


Broken

by MangoKat



Series: Team Red Family [2]
Category: Carmen Sandiego (Cartoon 2019)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-01-20 19:11:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 41
Words: 632,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21286760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MangoKat/pseuds/MangoKat
Summary: Part 2 of Team Red Family seriesV.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?
Series: Team Red Family [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1533365
Comments: 449
Kudos: 394





	1. Rock, Paper, and Crackle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> WARNING!  
READ THIS AUTHOR NOTE!
> 
> This is a two part series. Do not proceed with this story unless you have read Part 1: The Silence!
> 
> Hello everyone! Time for a new story arc! I won't make promises about how often I'll update this story, but I'm going to aim for at least once a week.
> 
> This is just a short introductory chapter, and the next chapter will be much longer. The normal length for my chapters are between 4000-6000 words.
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

** Broken **

**Chapter 1**

**Rock, Paper, and Crackle**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Crackle stood silently, hands held behind back, as he stared up at the leaders of V.I.L.E, waiting to be acknowledged. The five faculty members had been talking about him for several minutes like he couldn't hear them, and he found his attention starting to wander. He glanced around the room curiously, this being the first room outside of the lab he'd ever seen. The room was poorly lit and felt somewhat damp, and he assumed they were probably in a basement of some sort. Crackle's gaze settled on the tiny window at the far end of the room, and he felt a little rush of excitement come over him. He could see light coming through the dirty glass, and he wondered if the outside was always that bright. He wasn't used to a lot of light, and wasn't sure he liked the idea of it. He'd be leaving V.I.L.E shortly to go on his first mission, and then he'd soon find out for himself what the outdoors was like.

Dr. Bellum had told him he'd been outside before, but he couldn't remember. His mind always felt foggy, and it hurt if he tried too hard to remember. He was ordered by Dr. Bellum **not** to try, but he couldn't help it sometimes. It felt like memories danced just out of his reach, and it was frustrating.

Dr. Bellum worked with him a lot, and the machines she hooked him up to taught him all the most important things in life such as theft, strategy, electrical engineering, and self defense. Sometimes while she worked, Dr. Bellum would talk to him, and these were the moments he always looked forward to the most. Weeks and weeks of being alone made him crave the human interaction, and so if he was especially good, she would indulge him, and keep him company for a while.

Dr. Bellum described many things about the outside world to him, but he didn't really understand most of what she said. He didn't mind this, however, and asked endless questions about this mysterious outside world. Dr. Bellum praised his intelligence, and he always worked his hardest to prove himself to her. She was the only person he knew, and he wanted desperately to make her proud. She hadn't had to punish him in weeks, and Crackle winced at the memories of all the shocks he'd received for showing weakness. He still had the scars from the worst of the punishments, but he knew he deserved each and every one of them. He had a streak of kindness that was difficult to kill, but he was getting better at squashing it. He didn't really know what kindness was, but he knew it was bad, and he knew it was one of his biggest flaws. Any time he felt any sort of emotion, he suppressed it, knowing by doing this, he was slowly killing whatever kindness was. A good soldier did as he was told without question, and without any bothersome emotions.

From what was explained to him, he had once been a V.I.L.E operative, but had made some really big mistakes. Unforgivable mistakes. There had been something wrong with his brain, but Dr. Bellum had taken pity on him, and shown him mercy. She had worked hard to repair his flaws, and he was forever grateful for her hard work. He knew he was sometimes difficult, but she had never once given up on him. One of his earliest memories was of him arguing and sassing with Dr. Bellum and it made him shudder just to think about it. How could he have been so disrespectful? He definitely deserved those harsh punishments, and he knew he would never dare do such a thing now.

Crackle felt like he was now finally ready to leave Dr. Bellum's care. He would complete this mission, and he would come home victorious. He would make her proud and prove he was worth all her hard work.

Crackle's gaze shifted back to the faculty, and he studied each one in turn, these being the first people other than the doctor he had met. He had been taught all of their names of course, but this was the first time he had seen them in person.

Professor Gunnar Maelstrom was quite tall, far too pale, much too thin, and absolutely ancient. He was a bizarre looking person in Crackle's opinion, but he'd never say so. Saying so would be disrespectful, and would likely end with punishment. Despite this thought on his mind, he couldn't help but stare at the man's mullet, wondering why he left his hair like that. Crackle was quite proud of his own hair, that being one thing Dr. Bellum had allowed him to fuss over. She herself liked elaborate hairstyles, and so he was allowed to experiment on his hair all he wanted. He tended to use copious amounts of gel and so his hair was always perfection.

His gaze shifted to Coach Brunt. Her first name was unknown, but that was normal in V.I.L.E, most operatives keeping their identity a secret. She was a very large and heavy woman with pale green hair, and a friendly smile, but Crackle knew she was not someone to be trifled with. She was the strongest person in V.I.L.E, and probably the most feared. Dr. Bellum had told him she'd seen Coach Brunt rip a man's arm off during a fight, and when he stared up at her, he believed it. There was a frightening intensity about her, and he knew someone would be a fool to cross her.

Roundabout was probably the most mysterious of the group. He was Chinese British with round glasses with green lenses, and he seemed average in all regards. Nothing was really known about him, other than he was a genius when it came to investing, and he very rarely failed his missions. He was excellent at predicting outcomes, and he was the newest faculty member in V.I.L.E, only being with them a few months.

Countess Cleo on the other hand was beautiful and elegant in all ways. Tall and thin, with dark skin, and perfect hair, she seemed like the gem amongst the group. She was just as lethal as the others, but no one would expect it, therefore lowering their guard and likely getting themselves killed because of it. Crackle found himself staring at her longer than the others, simply admiring everything about her.

When he finally looked away, his gaze settled on Dr. Bellum. He smiled at the sight of her ignoring everyone else in the room, her attention solely on her computer screen. While everyone else was bickering back and forth, she simply kept typing away, clearly deeming the conversation unimportant. Dr. Saira Bellum was a very short, Indian woman with wild spikes of black and white hair, and large goggles that hid her eyes from sight. For months she was the only face he'd seen, and he had grown very attached to her.

Crackle glanced up at the ceiling which stretched off into darkness, and found himself simply staring upwards, lost in thought. The darkness reminded him of his earliest memories of when he was still locked inside the small metal room in the lab. Dr. Bellum didn't trust him at first, especially with his bad attitude, and so it wasn't until his behaviour improved that he was allowed out into the lab. The dark room had been cold, and lonely and he shuddered even thinking about it. It was only whenever he severely disappointed the doctor that she made him return to the dark room, and he did everything he could to avoid it.

"Crackle."

It had taken his eyes a long time to adjust to the light when he was first allowed out of the dark room, and he remembered how frightened he'd been at so many new things.

"Crackle?"

Dr. Bellum had been patient with him, and had explained what everything was in the lab, and had let him touch and explore to his heart's content. She was the one that fed him, that talked with him, that helped him, and he quickly came to depend on her for everything.

"What's wrong with him?" Coach Brunt demanded.

Dr. Bellum glanced up from her screen, and observed the way Crackle was staring upwards, and she looked up following his gaze. Not seeing anything that should have caught his attention, she frowned.

"CRACKLE." Coach Brunt yelled to no avail.

"He's thinking." Dr. Bellum explained. "Great minds tend to do this."

Professor Maelstrom frowned. "Are you sure he's not just brain-damaged? How many times did you put him in that machine of yours?"

"His mind is fine." Dr. Bellum snapped, instantly offended. She then glanced over at Crackle. "Crackle." she said in a calm voice.

At that one soft word from Dr. Bellum, Crackle's attention was instantly on the doctor. "Yes, doctor?"

"Did you hear what Coach Brunt said to you?"

Crackle hesitated, and then shook his head.

"Well, if I **now** have your attention..." Coach Brunt said, giving him a glare. "Do you know what your mission is?"

Crackle gave an immediate nod. "Yes."

"What is your mission?" she demanded.

"Find and kill Carmen Sandiego and her team."

"Do you have any memories of Carmen Sandiego?"

"No."

"Do you know who she is?"

"She is a traitor."

"What will you do when you find her?"

"Kill her."

"What will you do if she tries to talk to you?"

"Kill her."

"What will you do if she offers you to join her team?"

"Kill her."

"What will you do if she begs for her life?"

"Kill her."

"What will you do if she comes back to life as an undead zombie?" Coach Brunt demanded with humour in her tone.

Crackle hesitated, and furrowed his brow. "...kill her again...I guess? How do you kill a zombie?"

"Headshot." Dr. Bellum answered distractedly, glancing back at her screen.

"How do we know we can trust him?" Roundabout demanded.

"My boy follows orders." Dr. Bellum responded, offended. "The thought would never even cross his mind to disobey me."

"I'll admit I'm skeptical." Professor Maelstrom stated.

Dr. Bellum let out a deep sigh of irritation. "Fine, fine, I will prove it."

Everyone watched as she lifted her com from the table and pressed a few buttons. "Send her in." she said into the com.

Only moments later the door opened and a female operative hurried in, coming to stand beside Crackle. She was young, had her dark hair pulled back into a braid, and seemed a bit nervous.

"This is agent Black Fox." Dr. Bellum explained. "She was in Crackle's year at the academy. I'm sure she recognizes him."

Black Fox glanced at Crackle and gave a nod. "Yes, ma'am." she replied. "I was often paired with Crackle."

"Excellent, now Crackle, come here." Dr. Bellum ordered.

Crackle approached without hesitation.

"Hold out your hand." she ordered.

Crackle did as he was told and a gun was placed into his hand. The faculty watched in surprise, but none said a word.

"Kill agent Black Fox, Crackle."

Black Fox's eyes widened as Crackle turned to face her and there was no hesitation whatsoever as he pulled the trigger, shooting her straight in the temple. Black Fox had no time to protest or even cry out, dead before she registered what was happening. Crackle stared down at her, and once he was certain she was dead, he turned back around and returned the gun to the doctor.

"Any more questions?" Dr. Bellum demanded.

"No...I think that will do." Coach Brunt responded, surprised but impressed.

"I'm satisfied." Professor Maelstrom commented.

"Who's going to clean that up?" Countess Cleo demanded. "The Cleaners haven't returned from Poitiers yet."

"Make one of the lower level operatives do it." Professor Maelstrom suggested. "Maybe make one of the newest graduates come in to gain brownie points."

"Alright, Crackle, I trust you." Coach Brunt exclaimed, giving him a wide smile. "Are you ready to meet the rest of your team now?"

Crackle nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Coach Brunt nodded and reached for her own com. "Alright, bring 'em in." she said into it.

The door opened, and five people entered, approaching the staff table cautiously. They stared at the dead body in surprise, but none of them dared ask about it.

"I'm sure most of you haven't met each other since you all came from different graduating years." Coach Brunt said, addressing the group. "We wanted to diversify the group as much as possible to avoid any...problems."

The agents all glanced at one another, but none said a word.

"First up," Coach Brunt said, pointing to the tall and lanky man with very greasy hair standing beside Crackle. "This is Neal the Eel, his specialty is infiltration. He is a contortionist who, when wearing his 'slick suit', is nearly impossible to capture. He is an experienced agent who has successfully completed dozens of missions."

Neal shot the others a large smile, revealing his front teeth were not only bucked but also had a gap. "Hello, everyone." he greeted amiably.

Coach Brunt pointed to the next person in line. The girl was small, thin, with wildly coloured hair, and an odd mismatched outfit of spandex and white pleather.

"This is Paper Star." Coach Brunt said. "Although the youngest among you, she is also the best shot the academy has every seen. Her specialty is origami throwing stars sharp enough to slice skin. She is fast, ruthless, and is quickly proving herself within the ranks."

She said nothing, but Neal offered her a smile.

Coach Brunt then pointed to the next person in the line. The man was immaculately dressed, wore a designer hat, and had an expression on his face like he had just smelled something unpleasant.

"This is Dash Haber." Coach Brunt introduced. "Although he has never officially graduated from V.I.L.E, he has shown great promise as an agent. He has been training independently, and has created many wearable accessories which double as weapons. He has gone head to head with Carmen Sandiego, and was able to hold his own. His loyalty is unquestionable."

"You didn't graduate?" Neal asked, looking him up and down. "What, did you flunk out or something?"

Dash was instantly offended and gave him a look of death. "No, I did not 'flunk out'." he snapped. "I was offered an opportunity to work with the Countess Cleo, and I accepted the position."

"**After** you flunked out?"

"I didn't flunk out!" Dash defended, quickly getting angry. "I left after first term to work for the Countess Cleo! I got excellent marks!" 

Neal gave him a cheeky grin. "Sure, whatever you say, love."

Dash bristled. "I beg your pardon?"

"Enough." Coach Brunt interrupted. "Neal, stop antagonizing."

"Okay, okay, sorry."

Coach Brunt then motioned to the final two men. The men were identical twins and absolutely massive. They looked like they lived at the gym, and if it wasn't for the fact one of them had bleached their hair, it would have been impossible to tell them apart. Both looked mildly confused like they weren't quite sure what they were doing there.

"This is Double Trouble." Coach Brunt said. "They are brothers who specialize in brute strength and combat. They will be your muscle for this mission. Although not the swiftest pair, they make up for it with loyalty and determination. If there's something you need smashed, these are your men."

"Hi." the brunette one greeted, glancing at the others. "I'm Theodore, and this is my brother Roosevelt."

"Like the president!" Neal exclaimed, loving a good pun.

The brothers seemed confused. "What?"

"The president?" Neal repeated, raising an eyebrow.

He received identical blank stares.

"You know, Theodore Roosevelt, the 26th president of The United States?"

"We're from New Jersey."

Neal had no idea how to respond to that.

The twins looked even more confused, and the room descended into awkward silence.

"How much weight can you lift, Teddy?" Neal asked, clearly not used to silences.

Now this was a topic the brothers both knew about and they instantly perked up.

"Dunno, maybe 6 or 7 hundred pounds?" Theodore bragged. "The both of us can lift a car if we work together."

Neal let out a low whistle. He was not a very strong man, but with his specialty, he didn't need to be. He could still appreciate brute strength however.

"Enough socializing." Coach Brunt interrupted. "Now, the last among you is Crackle. He is an electrical genius who specializes in attacks involving electricity."

"It's good to meet you all." Crackle said, unused to being near so many people.

Neal's whole face lit up in delight. "An Aussie! I wasn't expecting **that**! Where ya from? I was born and raised in Auckland, neighbour."

Crackle had no idea what he was talking about and didn't answer.

Coach Brunt continued. "He has been specially trained by Dr. Bellum, and is going to lead this mission. You are to adhere to his authority, and not stray from the mission whatsoever."

Neal's expression instantly switched to indignant. "Wait, **he's** in charge?" he demanded. "He's just a kid! I'm like ten years older than him, and you expect me to take orders from him?"

"Yes." Coach Brunt said, her tone warning.

Neal crossed his arms. "No way. I am **not** taking orders from some snot-nosed little wombat! I'd rather-"

The words had barely left his mouth before Crackle had his hand around Neal's throat slamming him down hard into the ground. Neal gasped out in surprise and squirmed, but Crackle had a grip on his skin instead of the suit and he couldn't get away.

"Are you disobeying V.I.L.E orders?" Crackle demanded, hand tightening on the throat.

Neal's eyes widened. "N-no." he gasped out.

"Are you going to obey my command and follow the orders given to you?"

Neal couldn't breathe, and he clawed at the hand, unable to loosen Crackle's grip. "Y-yes!" Neal gasped out, using the last bit of air he had to answer. "I-I will!"

He was relieved when Crackle loosened his hold a bit, and took a gasping breath, staring up at the other man in disbelief.

"I am in charge, and if you question my authority again, we're going to have a problem, understood?"

Neal hurriedly nodded, and Crackle released him. Neal scrambled up, rubbing at his throat, and he caught Dash smirking at him, clearly holding back laughter. He shot a glare at him, but said nothing, not wanting to test his luck.

The faculty exchanged a look with one another, impressed at how efficiently Crackle handled the problem.

Professor Maelstrom stood up to address the team. "Crackle will explain to you the mission in detail, but from this point on, he is in charge, and you do **nothing** without his permission. Anyone who even **tries** to defect to Carmen Sandiego's team will be eliminated without question."

When no one seemed to have any questions about this, he gave Crackle a nod. "The team is now yours, and you are dismissed."

Crackle gave a glance to Dr. Bellum who gave him a smile and a thumb's up. He gave her a nod, and then turned to leave, motioning for the others to follow. He would not fail. Carmen Sandiego didn't stand a chance.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**NOTE: Double Trouble are canon characters from the old 90's show.**

**Don't forget to leave a comment if you liked the chapter! :D**

**The next chapter will be in a few days.**


	2. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Sorry this chapter is later than usual. I'm sick with the flu and I haven't felt like doing any writing. I've pretty much laid in bed like a giant blob for the last three days. I know this chapter isn't up to my usual standards, but at this point I'm just doing what I can. Please excuse any typos. I'll fix them later.
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

** Broken **

**Chapter 2**

**Recovery**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Team Red was bruised and full of stitches, but in good spirits as they stared at the television screen. They were watching the French news, and a reporter was explaining that the police had uncovered the biggest case of fraud and money laundering to ever take place on French soil. The Finnegan building was burning in the background behind her, and dozens of police cars, ambulances and firetrucks filled the streets around the building. People were being arrested by the dozens, and when Michael Finnegan Sr. was led out in cuffs, Team Red cheered long and hard, Zack pumping his fists into the air triumphantly.

"We got him!" Zack bellowed. "We got him!"

"Good riddance." Le Chèvre muttered to himself. "Fils de pute."

El Topo nodded his agreement, but didn't comment.

"Sois poli!" Chase scolded from the other couch. "Such foul language."

Le Chèvre rolled his eyes at him and said nothing more.

"I hope he gets life in prison." Ivy said, crossing her arms.

"He'll definitely receive a life sentence." Chase commented, wincing as the doctor applied another stitch to his face.

"Stay still!" the doctor scolded impatiently. "You're already lucky you didn't lose this eye, and unless you want a facial deformity, you need to let me work!"

Chase grumbled to himself, but did go still once again as she continued. Carmen offered him a smile from where she lay on the couch, tired but just as excited as the others. The doctor had successfully removed the bullet from her side, and stopped the bleeding, but she had lost a lot of blood, and needed time to recover. The whole team needed time to recover in fact, and she was looking forward to having a few weeks off from missions.

"Player, did you already wipe all the security footage from the Finnegan building?"

"Sure did, Red." Player confirmed. "No one will ever know we were there."

Carmen gave a satisfied nod. "Good."

She glanced over to the far end of the plane where Shadowsan had pulled Mime Bomb aside for a brutal lecture. She couldn't hear what was being said, but by Mime Bomb's expression, Shadowsan was really letting him have it. Mime Bomb was staring at the floor, shoulders hunched, and eyes suspiciously bright, and she felt pity for the thief. Shadowsan was so furious with the mime that he hadn't even received medical attention yet, instead choosing to immediately grab Mime Bomb by the elbow the moment they boarded the plane, and yanking him aside to have a serious discussion. They were two hours into the flight and Shadowsan didn't look like he was planning on ending the lecture any time soon.

Carmen had only ever been on the receiving end of one of Shadowsan's long lectures **once**, and it was not a pleasant experience. She had been eight years old and she'd stolen one of Dr. Bellum's experimental weapons from her classroom. Dr. Bellum had created a bright pink gun that emitted beautiful rainbow rays, and she had instantly wanted it the second she saw Dr. Bellum demonstrating it to her class. If Carmen had paid better attention, she would have seen what those rays actually did, but she was too excited over the thought of having a rainbow gun. She had snuck into the classroom when no one was looking, and snatched it from the desk without hesitation. She had then run through the halls pretending to shoot cops and defending the school from monsters, and was having a great time until she accidentally hit a student with the rays. It hadn't ended well of course and his screams still haunted her even a decade later. The rays melted his 'lower' organs, and caused severe burns across his legs and stomach, but Dr. Bellum and the V.I.L.E surgeon Dr. Vess were at least able to save his life.

The student disappeared from the academy once he was stable enough to be moved, and Carmen never saw him again. The resulting lecture from Shadowsan had been brutal and she had cried throughout the whole thing, feeling worse and worse the more he talked. When he was finally done, she had been grounded to her bedroom for a whole month with no dessert and extra homework. To her surprise, Shadowsan had then turned his anger on Dr. Bellum, scolding her for making a weapon that looked like a children's toy. She had seemed surprised by his anger, but she had reluctantly agreed with his point, and changed the design of the weapon to something more traditional.

Shadowsan had a talent for making someone feel guilty, and Carmen felt bad for Mime Bomb but knew it was necessary. He had disobeyed a direct order and put himself and others in danger with his actions. He needed to learn that he couldn't just go off on his own, and they needed to work as a team. Speaking with him hadn't worked, but perhaps after getting a lecture from Shadowsan it would finally sink in.

Carmen frowned as she stared at Mime Bomb, worried that he didn't seem to be getting any better after his trauma. He had almost killed a man because of it, and his nightmares were only getting worse. Perhaps Chase was right, and it was time to get Mime Bomb some professional help? Where could they possibly take a mute mime with PTSD? She would have to do some research with Player and see what they could find out. Perhaps there was a counselor for the deaf they could use? Would Mime Bomb even be willing to sign with a stranger?

"All finished." the doctor told Chase as she finished tying the bandages across his head. "Those stitches will dissolve in a week or so, but be careful not to rip them."

"And my eye?" he asked worriedly.

"Once the swelling goes down, you shouldn't have any problems with your vision." she assured him. "Keep your wounds clean, and don't get the stitches wet for at least 48 hours."

Chase gave her a nod as she turned away to clean her hands. "Aright, who's next?" she demanded.

Carmen glanced back over to Mime Bomb and decided to finally rescue him from Shadowsan's wrath. "Shadowsan!" she called over.

Shadowsan paused his lecture, and glanced over to her.

"It's your turn to be looked at." she told him. "Your shoulder is pretty bad, and you shouldn't wait any longer."

Shadowsan gave her a nod and then turned a glare at Mime Bomb. "Don't think this conversation is over!" he warned loudly as he crossed the plane. "We will be discussing this more in just a few minutes."

As Shadowsan approached the doctor to get his shoulder seen to, Mime Bomb cautiously followed him. When he was in front of Carmen, he hesitated a moment and then placed a fist on his chest and moved it in a slow circle, carefully not meeting her eyes. Carmen recognized the sign for 'I'm sorry' and she gave him a smile. Reaching out, she took his hand and pulled him down onto the couch beside her.

"I understand why you did it." she said, not letting go of the hand. "But that doesn't make it okay. We're a team and we have to work **together** on these missions. You can't keep going off on your own, and disobeying orders; it puts **you** at risk, and it puts the whole team at risk."

Mime Bomb still wasn't looking at her, and she gave him a frown.

"Mime Bomb, do you want to be part of this team?"

This caused him to look over at her, expression worried.

"We never actually asked you, and maybe it was wrong for us to assume, but I'm asking you now. Do you want to be a part of this team?"

Mime Bomb stared at her with wide eyes, wondering if she was going to kick him out because of this. He responded with a very slow nod, and repeated the 'I'm sorry' sign. Carmen actually seemed relieved at his response, and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"I'm glad." she told him with a smile. "But you're going to have to follow some rules."

Mime Bomb gave her a nod, looking miserable. It was clear Shadowsan had already lectured him on this and so Carmen moved on.

"And we're going to look for a doctor to help you." she told him.

This caused Mime Bomb to frown at her.

"This is non-negotiable." she told him firmly. "You nearly killed a man tonight, and you need someone to help you through the trauma you endured. None of us are equipped to deal with something like this, and so as soon as we land, I'm finding someone for you to talk to."

Mime Bomb gave her a look and motioned with his hands as if to say 'How?!'.

"I'm going to look for someone who knows sign language." she explained. "A doctor who works with the deaf, perhaps."

Mime Bomb furrowed his brow, but didn't argue, Shadowsan's lecture beating any fight out of him.

"You mean he's known sign language this **whole** time?!" Le Chèvre demanded, clearly eavesdropping.

"Yeah, he just doesn't like using it." Zack responded with a shrug.

Le Chèvre gave Mime Bomb a look of loathing, before turning his glare on Carmen. He hadn't said more than a handful of words to her this whole time, and Carmen knew they needed to have a conversation to clear the air.

"Look, Le Chèvre..." she began. "I'm sorry I hurt you when I betrayed V.I.L.E, but-"

Le Chèvre held up a hand to stop her. "I don't care what you have to say." he responded icily. "As long as El Topo chooses to stay with you, then I will stay as well, but we are not friends. My loyalty is only to El Topo, and although I don't agree with his choice, I will support it."

"Mi amigo..." El Topo protested.

"Non, mon ami." Le Chèvre responded firmly. "Black Sheep died the moment she betrayed us."

Carmen felt hurt by the cold words, but knew that Le Chèvre was incredibly stubborn, and it took time to win him over. It had taken him over a whole week at the academy to have a real conversation with her, a month before he started warming up to her, and a month after that to finally become friends. Le Chèvre did not give his trust easily and it would probably be a long time before he was willing to forgive her. Although his rejection hurt now, she knew she just had to be patient.

"I understand." she told him. "No matter what your opinion of me is, I've always thought of you as my friend, and I will continue to do so. You can hate me all you want, but I'll always be here for you."

Le Chèvre gave her a long and hard look, but said nothing, simply turning away back towards the television. Carmen stared at him for a few seconds and then let out a deep sigh. She kept a hold of Mime Bomb's hand, content with his quiet company beside her, and they continued watching the arrests taking place on the television. She felt him tense up when Michael Jr. was carried out of the building on a stretcher and gave his hand a squeeze of reassurance.

"He's going to jail." she told him. "For a very, **very** long time."

Mime Bomb glared at the screen, and Carmen wondered what he was thinking. Did he regret almost killing Michael Jr. or did he regret the gun was empty? She really hoped it was the former...

"What charities are we going to use this money for?" Player asked. "We should get rid of it as soon as possible before V.I.L.E tracks it down. I still think there's some connection with that Volkov company in Russia, but I can't prove it. We need to lose these funds fast before we catch attention."

"Orphans." Chase spoke up, surprising everyone. "Give the money to poor children. Open schools for them, set up scholarships, get them out of poverty."

Carmen gave him a nod, liking the idea. "That sounds perfect. Player, can you set it up?"

"Sure thing, Red. I'll disperse the money among several countries so it'll be harder to trace. This money will help a lot of people."

Shadowsan's shoulder had now been stitched up, and his other injuries tended to, and his gaze immediately settled on Mime Bomb.

"Right, you next!" the doctor said to Mime Bomb before Shadowsan could say a word. "Over here now!"

Mime Bomb shook his head, but she narrowed her eyes at him. "I've seen the way you've been moving and I know you have an injury on your stomach. Now come over here and show me."

"It wouldn't hurt to have her look over your stitches." Carmen told him. "Just to make sure they're healing correctly."

Mime Bomb eyed Shadowsan and knew every delay from the impending lecture was a welcome one, and so he gave a nod. He slunk past Shadowsan meekly and came to stand in front of the doctor.

"Show me." she ordered.

Mime Bomb lifted his shirt a bit so she could see the stitches and she frowned at him impatiently. "Shirt off." she ordered. "How do you expect me to take a proper look like that?"

Looking incredibly uncomfortable, Mime Bomb slipped his shirt off revealing the hundreds of stitches across his stomach and chest.

"Oh god..." Tigress commented from where she was laying. "It looks like someone tried to saw you in half!"

El Topo and Le Chèvre stared at the wounds covering him, and they exchanged a look, both not realizing just how badly the mime had been hurt. They knew he'd needed a surgery of some kind, but now that they actually saw him, they understood his hatred for the Finnegans.

"That could have been me." El Topo said quietly. "I was supposed to go on that mission."

Le Chèvre's expression became pained, and he stared at Mime Bomb without saying a word, simply thinking about the situation. If it had been El Topo the Finnegans captured, would he have been sent to kill him like he was Mime Bomb? Would V.I.L.E have sent him to kill his own partner or would they have sent someone else? The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he gave Mime Bomb a frown. It was just plain bad luck that landed Mime Bomb in the position he was in. He didn't like the other man, but he couldn't blame him for what happened. Mime Bomb had no choice but to leave V.I.L.E.

Mime Bomb stood awkwardly in front of the doctor as she looked over his stitches, and she gently touched a large patch of yellowed bruises on his ribs causing him to flinch.

"His ribs were broken recently." she stated. "And he's underweight."

"He had to get surgery because one of his broken ribs punctured a lung." Shadowsan explained.

The doctor frowned. "Lay down." she ordered. "I want to take a closer look at these wounds."

El Topo and Le Chèvre moved off the nearby couch to give them room, and Mime Bomb layed down on the couch, looking a bit nervous. The doctor looked over his stitches and then began gently pressing on various spots on his chest and stomach and he squirmed in discomfort, still too sore to be manhandled.

"Hmm." she said after a moment. "He seems to be healing alright, but I recommend he be rechecked at the hospital. These stitches are ready to come out though, and I can take care of that for you."

Mime Bomb stared at her with wide eyes and frantically shook his head.

"Don't be a baby." she scolded. "It won't hurt very much. You don't even need any freezing for this."

She pulled what looked like a small pair of wire cutters out of her medical bag, and everyone in the room could see the impending panic attack starting.

"Er, doc, maybe he should be sedated?" Ivy suggested.

Zack was quick to agree with his sister. "Yeah, he's been through a lot and I think this is bringing up some bad memories..."

The doctor glanced down at Mime Bomb, saw the sheer panic in his eyes, and gave him a frown. She was used to dealing with injured criminals, and she'd seen her fair share of torture victims. Without a word, she reached into her bag and pulled out a small black pouch with a zipper. Opening it, she revealed a syringe and a bottle of clear liquid.

"How much do you weigh?" she demanded.

Mime Bomb gave her a shrug, and she sighed, looking him up and down as she made a guess. Filling the syringe to a certain mark, she reached for his arm and quickly stabbed him with it before he had time to flinch away from her. Mime Bomb gave her an alarmed look, but within seconds he became drowsy and all fight left him.

"He should be out for about 20 minutes." she told the others. "More than enough time to get these stitches out."

As the doctor began working, Tigress looked up at Le Chèvre with a tired smile. "How you holding up, goat?"

Le Chèvre smirked down at her. "Better than you it seems."

Tigress let out a laugh, hand going down to her new stitches. "You had us worried there for a while."

Le Chèvre took a seat beside her. "And you two have me worried right **now**." he responded. "What were you thinking, joining Carmen Sandiego?"

Tigress let out a deep sigh. "I had no choice." she responded. "**V.I.L.E** left us with no choice. They're so quick to dispose of us that they don't even bother to hear our side of things. They would have killed me or erased my memories if I returned to them. As much as Black Sheep irritates me, her company is preferable to death."

Le Chèvre glared in Carmen's direction. "She betrayed us once and she will do it again." he told her. "We mean nothing to her."

El Topo reached out and took his hand as he sat down beside him. "That's not true and you know it." he scolded. "Black Sheep never chose that life, and it wasn't fair to force it on her. She left V.I.L.E because she did not agree with it, not because she was trying to abandon her friends."

Le Chèvre's expression was angry, and he shook his head. "She will hurt you, mon ami. I won't let her do that again."

El Topo shook his head. "She won't." he assured him. "It's good here, better than I expected. It's just like it used to be."

Le Chèvre turned a glare at him. "I am a **thief**, not a Robin Hood." he responded. "I have no desire to be the hero, and I thought you were the same."

El Topo gave him a pained look. "I don't know what I want." he admitted. "Stealing for profit is exciting, but stealing from V.I.L.E is somehow more satisfying. They betrayed us, and I will never forgive them."

"But yet you forgive **her**?" Le Chèvre responded, turning his glare on Carmen.

"Yes." El Topo answered.

"You are too soft." Le Chèvre said with a frown. "This is why you keep getting hurt."

El Topo let out a huff. "And you are too stubborn." he replied.

"Just take a few days to heal and relax." Tigress suggested. "When's the last time we all just hung out without having to worry about V.I.L.E hanging over our shoulders?"

"Not since training." Le Chèvre stated thoughtfully. "I suppose a break **would** be welcome..."

El Topo saw this was at least progress and gave him a nod. "We can finally get caught up on our tv shows."

Le Chèvre gave him a tired nod. "Oui. We're two years behind."

"Ivy **no**!" Zack suddenly bellowed, drawing everyone's attention to him.

Ivy had a candy bar in her hands, and was fighting off her brother who was desperately trying to snatch it from her.

"That's my only one!"

Ivy glared at him, and swung out a fist in his direction. "Then maybe you shouldn't have stolen my snickers last week!"

"That wasn't me, it was Mime Bomb!" Zack insisted, kicking at her shin. "I swear I didn't take it."

Ivy eyed him skeptically. "Mime Bomb ate my snickers?"

"Well, no, I was the one who ate it, but he's the one who stole it..."

"Then you're **both** guilty!" Ivy said triumphantly as she opened the wrapper. "Is he the one who's been swiping all my stuff?"

"I'm no snitch!" Zack responded, lunging for his sister.

Ivy side-stepped the attack, and took a bite of the candy. "Thieving jerks."

"**IVY**!" Zack cried.

Shadowsan rubbed at his forehead in frustration, and without a word he snatched the candy from Ivy and dropped it into the nearby wastebasket.

"Hey!" both Zack and Ivy protested at the same time.

"There, problem solved." Shadowsan said. "Now, if you're done acting like children, it would be nice to have a little quiet time."

He received angry glares, but neither of them said anything. Zack craned his neck so he could look in the waste basket, and Ivy elbowed him hard.

"Don't even think about it." she hissed. "That's gross."

"I wasn't going to!" Zack defended.

Ivy gave him a skeptical look.

"Is it always like this?" Le Chèvre demanded, motioning towards the siblings.

El Topo grinned at him. "Always."

"Ugh, this is going to be a long flight." Le Chèvre muttered, leaning over and resting his head on El Topo's shoulder. "Where are we even going?"

"California." Tigress replied.

Le Chèvre closed his eyes in resignation. "Well, at least it will be warm there."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

**4 Days later**

It had been several days since they arrived back in San Diego and everything was starting to settle down as everyone got used to each other. No one really felt up to doing much, and so they spent the majority of their time in the rec room watching tv or simply talking. Tensions seemed to ease during these times, and Carmen almost felt like it was old times again. Tigress was still her nasty self, but Carmen didn't take any comments to heart, knowing that's just how the other girl was. They'd been receiving intel on upcoming V.I.L.E heists, but they were still healing and knew they'd have to sit the next few missions out. It had been Chase's idea to tip off A.C.M.E about one of the bigger heists involving the theft of a gemstone, and they'd watch to see what A.C.M.E accomplished.

Chase had been a little quiet since arriving back at base, and Carmen had a feeling he was second-guessing his choices to help them. Chase had been a law-abiding citizen his whole life and now he was wanted by both Interpol and A.C.M.E. This was clearly weighing on him, and he seemed to always have a troubled expression on his face. He wasn't used to this type of life, and Carmen was beginning to worry he was going to make a dumb decision if she didn't intervene.

"Chase?"

He looked up from the newspaper he was reading. "Oui?"

"Come here for a second, there's something I want to show you."

His curiosity piqued, Chase set the paper aside and got up to approach.

Carmen held out a tablet towards him. "Here, I want you to see this."

Chase accepted the tablet and glanced at the screen. There was a picture of a young boy smiling brightly for the camera.

"That is Anjeet." Carmen told him. "Because of the money we donated, he was able to go to school."

Using a finger, she swiped the screen and a picture of a little girl appeared. "This is Mary, and she is now able to get the operation to fix a defect of the heart."

Chase stared at Mary's face and a moment later the picture was replaced with that of a little boy around seven years old.

"This is Tomas, and he was provided with seeds and farm animals to help his family get out of extreme poverty. He will now be able to go to school with the other kids."

Chase didn't know what to say and simply stared at the screen.

"There are hundreds just like them." Carmen told him. "You did this. You helped save them."

Chase flipped through image after image after image, and he realized that until this moment, it hadn't felt like he'd done much. These children in the pictures would have a chance at a future, and Chase found a small smile coming to his face.

"May I?" he asked, holding up the tablet.

"Of course." Carmen told him, watching as he carried the tablet back to his armchair.

Chase then spent the next two hours going through pictures and reading the donation details, not paying anyone else any attention. Carmen let him be, having a feeling Chase needed to work through this conflict on his own.

"Carmen?" came Player's voice.

"Yes, Player?" she asked, flipping a page in her magazine.

"Can I speak to you alone for a moment?"

Furrowing her brow at the unusual request she nodded towards the camera. "Yes, of course. I'll go to my bedroom, just a moment."

She gained a few curious looks, but no one questioned her as she got up and left the room. Once she had her bedroom door closed, she took a seat on the bed. "What's up, Player?"

"I found Mime Bomb."

"What?" Carmen asked, furrowing her brow in confusion. "He's in the kitchen with Zack making lunch."

"No, I mean I found some information about his past."

Carmen's eyes widened. "You found out who he is?" she asked in surprise.

Carmen's computer monitor turned itself on and a moment later a few images popped up on her screen. Approaching, she stared at the pictures, seeing a young Mime Bomb about eleven or twelve years old in a school photo.

"You really did find him! Who is he?" she asked.

Player hesitated. "Well it looks like he was enrolled into the English private school Emeline's School for the Deaf in 2009 under the name of Jason Felix Smythe ."

"Jason? He does **not** look like a Jason."

"That's because he's not Jason." Player responded.

Carmen was confused. "What do you mean?"

"Jason Felix Smythe died in a car accident two weeks before Mime Bomb enrolled in the school. Mime Bomb spent the next six years in this school using Jason's identity until he graduated in 2016."

"Why would a kid steal someone's identity?" Carmen asked. "Who is he really?"

"I don't know yet, but I'm working on it. I haven't found any connection between Mime Bomb and the real Jason Smythe. Now that I have a few school pictures of him at various ages, I'm going to try re-running his face to see if I get a match anywhere. Something is **not** right here, and I think we need to investigate this."

"Mime Bomb's not deaf." Carmen said with a frown. "Why would he even **want** to go to a school for the deaf? Where were his parents during all this? How could they allow him to commit massive fraud at the age of **eleven**?!"

"Should we ask him about it?" Player asked.

Carmen immediately shook her head. "No, let's find out all the facts first and then we can have a chat with him. He might be hiding his identity for a reason. Perhaps he was part of some sort of witness protection program?"

"Okay, it shouldn't take long for me to run my software with the new images. If there's a picture of Mime Bomb anywhere on the internet, I'll find it."

"Okay, thanks Player."

"Oh, I also found a therapist who might be what we're looking for."

Carmen perked up. "Who is it?"

"Her name is Marin Brownswell. She is located in London, England and she specialized in therapy for the deaf. She's fluent in three forms of sign language, and has four degrees from Oxford. Because she deals primarily with the deaf, she offers videochat therapy sessions. Mime Bomb could speak with the doctor in the privacy of his bedroom or even while away on missions."

Carmen had to admit it sounded perfect. "I'll have to speak with this doctor first to make sure she seems like a good fit. Can you set up an appointment for me to speak with her?"

"Already done, Red. I set one up just in case you wanted to speak with her. You can call her anytime within the next half hour."

Carmen was always amazed at Player's dependability. "Perfect. Can you connect the call over my computer?"

"Sure thing, Red, just a second."

Carmen waited nervously as the chat window popped up, and it only took a few moments for the call to be answered. The face of a middle-aged woman appeared on the screen, and she smiled brightly at Carmen.

"Good afternoon." the woman said, signing what she was saying. "You must be my 12:30 appointment."

Carmen gave her a nod. "Yes, but I'm not deaf."

The woman paused in confusion, and so Carmen continued.

"I'm calling on behalf of my...brother. I wanted to meet you to see if you would be a good fit for him."

Dr. Brownswell nodded in understanding, smile returning to her face. "I see. What is it you would like to know?"

"Do you have any experience helping people with severe trauma?"

Concern entered the doctor's eyes. "Yes, I've had a few patients over the years. What kind of trauma are we talking about?"

Carmen hesitated as she tried to find the right words. "My brother was kidnapped and held captive for three days. He was starved, beaten and tortured. He was rescued, but he's been having a hard time adjusting. Every time he sleeps, he has terrible nightmares, and they're only getting worse. He's been lashing out, and the other day he nearly hurt someone. We're all really worried about him."

The doctor looked even more concerned, but she gave her a nod. "Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is a serious condition, and not an easy one to treat. He needs support from everyone around him, and should **not** be left by himself for any reason. Is it just you and your brother?"

"No, we're a large family." Carmen replied. "There's nine of us here."

"Oh, wow, that **is** a big family!" the doctor said. "That's good, really good. Just make sure he's **always** with someone. People with PTSD can have suicidal thoughts, and he needs to be watched extremely closely. Does everyone in your family know sign language?"

"My brother isn't deaf, but he won't speak. We've had a really hard time finding him a doctor because of this."

"He's gone mute since the incident?"

Carmen shook his head. "No, I've **never** heard him speak. There's nothing physically stopping him from speaking, and we don't know why he's mute. He fluent in British Sign Language, but he doesn't like to use it."

"Then how does he communicate?" she asked in concern.

Again Carmen hesitated. "...er, he's a mime."

Dr. Brownswell cocked her head. "A mime?"

Carmen nodded. "He dresses as a mime, and he absolutely refuses to remove the costume. He wears full facial make-up 24/7."

"I see...and when did this start?"

"As far as I know about three years ago."

"Was anything happening in his life during that time? Anything that may have caused him to do this?"

"Well, we were in school at the time, and I guess he was being bullied."

The doctor nodded. "This will have to be something we explore. I recommend you make an appointment for him as soon as possible. Book a double appointment for him because first sessions tend to take a lot longer, and I want to get to know him a bit."

"Here's the thing, I have no idea if he'll be willing to sign with you." Carmen said. "I told him he was going to speak with a doctor, but he didn't seem very thrilled with the idea."

Dr. Brownswell gave her a reassuring smile. "I'll win him over." she promised. "Just get him to at least listen to me, and I'll take it from there."

Carmen liked the doctor's attitude and she returned the smile. "He has a broken arm, and so hopefully you're good at figuring out what he's trying to say."

The concern was back in the doctor's eyes. "Just how badly was he hurt?" she asked.

"He nearly died." Carmen replied. "He only **just** got his stitches taken out a few days ago, and he still has another three weeks for the cast."

"I'll manage." the doctor assured her. "I'll tell my secretary to clear my afternoon schedule tomorrow to give him as much time as he needs. I have his name down as Martin Bombosa, is that correct?"

"Er...that's another thing...he goes by Mime Bomb..."

The doctor must have had unusual patients before because this didn't phase her in the least. "Mime Bomb, huh? Cute pun." she commented. "And what is your name?"

"Carmen, I'm his younger sister."

"Well, Carmen, it was lovely meeting you, and I hope to be hearing from your brother soon. I'm late for my next appointment and so I really have to let you go."

"No problem, doctor, thank you so much for your help."

As soon as the call disconnected, Carmen let out a deep breath of relief.

"She seems perfect, Player."

"Want me to set up the appointment?"

Carmen nodded. "Yes, but the real challenge will be seeing if I can get Mime Bomb to cooperate..."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**Are you guys actually interested in Team Red's home life, or would you rather me gloss over it to get to more action-related things?**

**Don't forget to leave a comment if you liked the chapter! :D**

**The next chapter will be in a few days.**


	3. First Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Blarg flu complain complain whine whine.
> 
> Now that that's out of my system, here is the next chapter.
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 3**

**First Mission**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Crackle opened the front doors of the building and then immediately stopped walking, causing the others following behind to crash into him. He stared at the sight before him, this being unlike anything he had ever seen before. The V.I.L.E headquarters was a large factory on an island, and the front doors opened right next to the beach.

"Hey!" Dash protested indignantly, making a big show of dusting himself off.

Crackle stared at the wide open ocean before them, the sight absolutely breathtaking. The water stretched as far as the eye could see, the sun shining on its surface, causing the water to shimmer and appear vivid blue. He took a cautious step forward, the feeling of the warm wind on his face foreign and strange. He had seen pictures of the ocean of course, but it was completely different to see it in person. He took a deep breath and could taste the salt on the air, the air fresh and clean unlike the stale air in Dr. Bellum's lab.

Neal slipped past the others and came to stand beside Crackle, throwing an arm around his shoulders, clearly already past his animosity.

"Whatcha looking at, wombat?"

"The ocean." Crackle answered, not turning his eyes away from it.

Neal squinted out at the ocean. "Why? You afraid of water?"

Crackle shook his head. "No, not especially."

Neal stared out at the ocean as if trying to figure out what was so interesting about it, but quickly lost interest, and edged his way past him to get outside.

"Look, are you going to let us out, or should we just stand here and hope Carmen Sandiego finds **us**?" Dash snapped rudely.

Crackle turned around and narrowed his eyes at the other man. Taking a tone like that with Dr. Bellum would have been grounds for punishment, and he debated on what his reaction should be. Dash caught sight of his expression, remembered what had happened with Neal, and quickly amended his tone and added.

"But you're in charge, and you can take all the time you want."

Crackle gave him a long, hard look, but decided to let it slide and didn't comment. Turning away and stepping all the way outside, he allowed the others to pass him, keeping an eye on them as they approached the waiting plane. He glanced up at the sky and like with the ocean, the blue was endless and perfect. He had never considered it before, but Crackle decided right then and there that blue was his favourite colour. Blue was the colour of fresh air and freedom. Giving the ocean one last look, he turned and headed for the plane, knowing this mission was going to be interesting for sure.

Climbing into the plane, he took a seat beside Paper Star and buckled himself in as the pilot turned on the engine. Paper Star was humming tunelessly to herself as she slowly folded a piece of paper, and he watched her for a few minutes fascinated. A moment later she set an origami sheep on his knee, and he stared down at it, getting an odd feeling about it. Reaching down, he picked up the sheep and turned it over in his hand, something feeling very, **very** wrong. Paper Star was pretending to be completely focused on folding another piece of paper, but he noted she was carefully watching him out of the corner of her eye. Why would she make something like this? Was this supposed to mean something? Was this a test?

Crushing the sheep in his hand, he dropped it to the floor and gave Paper Star a warning look.

"Keep your mind on the mission." he scolded.

"And what **is** the mission? It can't only be going after Carmen Sandiego." Dash asked. "Where are we headed?"

"We are being sent on a test mission in The United Arab Emirates." Crackle explained. "Before we can be trusted to confront Carmen Sandiego, they want to see how well we work as a team."

"Oooo, what are we stealing?" Neal asked eagerly.

"It's a ruby called the Fires of Hades." Crackle explained. "It's the largest cut ruby of its kind at 430 carats, and is valued at over two hundred and thirty million dollars."

He now had everyone's undivided attention.

"The ruby is being kept in a secure bunker within a military compound in Dubai until it can be safely transported to a secret vault belonging to the royal family. We have a twenty-four hour window in which to infiltrate the bunker and steal the ruby."

Dash looked surprisingly excited over this. "Dubai, I **love** Dubai." he commented. "Such a wonderful city. They have some of the best clothing shops in the world there."

The twins nodded their agreement. "Good food there." Roosevelt commented. "We did a few jobs there over the years."

Paper Star gave a shrug. "It's okay, but I prefer Seoul."

"Where's that?" Theodore asked in confusion.

Paper Star raised an eyebrow. "South Korea."

"It's your favourite place because you're Korean?" Theodore asked.

She glared over at him. "I'm Japanese."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

Roosevelt elbowed his brother hard. "Stupid! Korea is a city in China, **not** Japan! Japan's the country with the dirty cartoons!"

Theodore nodded in realization. "Oh, right, sorry. I'm always getting things mixed up."

Paper Star looked somewhat pained for a moment, before she went back to folding paper without another word. Crackle felt mildly annoyed that his team seemed so easily distracted, and knew this would be something he'd have to work on.

"Focus." he ordered. "We arrive in Dubai in five hours."

"How are we supposed to infiltrate a military base?" Dash demanded. "I'm assuming it's extremely well guarded."

"Neal the Eel has successfully broken into a Russian military base, and so he is experienced in matters like this." Crackle responded. "Neal, would you care to explain what you did?"

Neal gave him a shrug. "The air-ducts were completely unguarded and without motion sensors. I crawled in through the vents and left the same way."

Crackle nodded. "And you will do the same thing this time."

Neal gave him a thumb's up. "Sweet as, eh? Piece of piss."

Crackle nodded, understanding perfectly.

Dash however gave Neal a bewildered look. "Are you having a stroke or something? You're just stringing random words together..."

Neal blinked at him, and then rolled his eyes. "Right, you're an American...How's this then? I understand the mission and it will be easy peasy." he translated.

Dash looked affronted. "**That's** what you said?! None of that sentence made any grammatical sense whatsoever!"

Neal pointed at himself. "Kiwi, love."

Dash crossed his arms. "Isn't it normally 'piece of cake'?"

"Leave it to Americans to make everything about food." Neal replied, giving him a smirk.

Dash gave him a glare, but decided it wasn't worth it. It was clear that Neal enjoyed stirring things up, and he wasn't going to sink to his level and react.

"Everyone gather around." Crackle ordered, removing a planner tube from his duffel bag.

He pulled a rolled up paper from the tube and spread it out on the table in front of them.

"Neal will be jumping from the plane to reach the roof of the facility, and he'll be entering through here." he pointed to a vent on the roof. "The vent is normally too small for a human to crawl through, but Neal should be able to manage it if he's as flexible as he claims."

Neal flashed him a grin and bent over backwards until his head rested on the floor, his whole body nearly bent in half. "Won't be a problem." he assured them.

"Ew." Dash muttered, turning his attention back to the blueprints. "And what will the rest of us be doing?"

"We willing be entering through one of three possible entrances. Neal will be scouting out the security systems, the guards positions, and where the ruby is located. He will determine which entrance is safest for us to use and direct us inside. Once we are inside, we will separate down these hallways." Crackle pointed to the hallways in question. "Once you reach the room containing the ruby, I will cut the power in the building, and you'll have three minutes to get it before the emergency generators kick in and the alarms sound."

"Won't they find it a bit suspicious when their power suddenly cuts out?" Dash demanded.

"Not at all." Crackle replied.

"Why is that?" Theodore asked, certain this couldn't be right.

"Because we'll be doing this during the worst lightening storm of the year." Crackle responded with a wide grin.

Everyone aboard the plane stared at him with wide eyes, realizing he was going to fly the plane straight into a storm.

"Er...we're in a tin box, wombat." Neal pointed out.

Crackle held out a long rod made of metal and pressed a button. A flash of electricity lit up the room, and everyone took a step back from him.

"This is called the Crackle Rod." he explained. "I will be redirecting any lightening that strikes us, and we'll be able to pass through the storm harmlessly."

"And how many times have you done this before?" Dash asked skeptically.

"Zero." Crackle responded, putting the rod away. "Now, moving on. We will each have disguises in case we're seen while inside, except for Neal who will need his slick suit to get through the vents."

"I'm sorry, but did you say you've **never** done this before?" Dash demanded. "You are going to risk our lives on something that may not even work?!"

Crackle narrowed his eyes. "I don't make mistakes." he said firmly. "I have checked everything personally, and it will work. There is no danger to us."

The twins exchanged a long look between them, but were smart enough not to comment. Dash, however, let his mouth get the better of him.

"This is ridiculous! We're going to all get killed!" Dash snapped. "Flying into a lightening storm? Some electrical genius **you** are! You're crazy!"

Crackle stared at Dash for a moment and then reached for his Crackle Rod. Without a single word to anyone, he lashed out with it and gave a powerful shock to Dash's stomach. Dash let out a shriek as he was tased, and he fell to the floor, convulsing as the current of electricity ran its course.

"Any more comments?" Crackle demanded, holding up the rod and glaring around at everyone.

Neal eyed Dash on the floor for a moment and then hesitantly raised a hand. Crackle turned towards him, brandishing the weapon, but Neal held up his hands in surrender. "Just a question about the mission, I swear."

"Go ahead." Crackle answered, keeping the weapon ready.

"When I jump from the plane, do I have any sort of protection from the lightening? I won't have your mighty lightening dong to protect me."

This was a fair question, and so Crackle lowered the rod. "Your parachute has special fibers sewn into the lining that acts similar to how my Crackle Rod works. If lightening strikes you, it will be absorbed before it can reach you."

"Oh my god." Dash moaned from the floor.

"Welcome back." Neal said with a grin, as the other man rolled over.

Dash rubbed at his stomach for a moment, and then sat up, expression outraged. "You tased me!"

"In case you have forgotten, Dash Haber, I am in charge of this mission. If you challenge my authority, you get punished. You can consider that small shock a warning. I have been authorized to use any means necessary to keep you in line."

"I didn't even do anything!" Dash snarled.

Crackle held up the rod, and Dash quickly scooted away from him.

"Okay, fine, I get it! No more arguing!"

"No more warnings." Crackle told him, putting the rod away.

Dash's expression was thunderous, but he kept his mouth closed, and got back to his feet still rubbing his stomach. When he saw Neal grinning at him, his expression became even more foul, wishing he'd never been sent on this mission. He stood arms crossed, as Crackle explained the surrounding area outside of the military base, and the possible dangers they might encounter, and didn't say another word.

He stared at Crackle and wondered what had happened to him. Being the Countess Cleo's assistant meant he had met a lot of different operatives, and he knew very well who Crackle was. Crackle was Black Sheep's best friend, the one who had screwed up and gotten himself caught. He knew his memories had been erased and he was returned to his old life in Sydney, but he wasn't sure how he'd ended up back at V.I.L.E. The old Crackle was carefree and friendly, but the man that stood before him now had little resemblance. Coach Brunt said that Crackle had been specially trained, but what did that mean? Did she do something to his mind? Did she turn him into this odd shell of a man?

Dash shuddered at the thought. He couldn't imagine losing who he was as a person. If all his memories of V.I.L.E were erased, he'd lose six years of his life and end up back in the Bronx. He'd wake up in the hospital and not know any better, and he'd probably wear a baseball cap or something. He gave another shudder. Or worse, sweat pants. Dash decided that would be a fate worse than death, and he vowed to never end up in such a situation.

Crackle made them spend the entire five hours of the flight studying the plan, and they had rehearsed it so many times, they had it memorized, and they were sick of hearing about it.

They were in the thick of the storm by the time they reached Dubai, and Crackle had the Crackle Rod pressed to the floor of the plane as they were struck by lightening over and over again. The metal all around them sparkled, and Dash noticeably held his breath as he watched the electricity shimmer all around them. The Crackle Rod absorbed every strike, and they finally began to relax, realizing they weren't going to be blown out of the sky.

"We're approaching the military base." Crackle informed them. "Everyone put in your coms."

Slipping the tiny coms into their ears, they exchanged a look, knowing this was going to be an extremely dangerous mission.

"Get ready, Neal." Crackle ordered. "Less than a minute before you jump."

Neal put the hood of his suit up and reached for his parachute. As he was buckling it, Crackle circled him, making sure everything was perfect.

"Any last questions before you jump?" he demanded.

"She'll be right." Neal assured him.

"Ugh." Dash complained. "Your English makes my ears bleed."

Neal gave him his most charming smile as he got ready to jump. "Aw, you know you love me."

"Ten seconds." Crackle informed him.

Dash stared at Neal's teeth as he smiled, and crinkled his nose in disgust. "You **do** of course realize that V.I.L.E offers free dental care, right? There's no reason to be walking around with teeth like that."

"It looks like they offer free plastic surgery too." Neal responded, flashing Dash a cheeky grin.

"Wait, what's **that** supposed to mean?!" Dash demanded, reaching up a hand to touch his face.

Neal's grin only widened as he jumped from the plane without answering.

"My beauty is **natural**!" Dash bellowed after him.

There was no answer as Neal was already long gone, and Dash scowled after him. He had known Neal for less than a day, and he already despised him with every fiber of his being.

"Uncouth wretch." he muttered, turning away from the open hatch.

"Haber, get ready." Crackle ordered, tossing a uniform at him. "The plane lands in twenty minutes."

As Dash slipped the uniform on over his existing clothes, he glanced over and saw Paper Star had stripped to get changed without a care in the world. Theodore and Roosevelt were staring at her slack-jawed and even Crackle had paused what he was doing. She was humming tunelessly to herself, seemingly unaware of the people around her. Dash rolled his eyes and promptly ignored her, having no interest in what she was doing. Crackle quickly got over his surprise and looked away, trying not to think about what he had seen. Those were the type of thoughts that would distract him from the mission, and that was unacceptable.

Clearing his throat noisily, he said. "A military jeep is waiting for us at the airport, and from there it will be an hour drive. Neal should be able to give us all the information we need by then." he pressed a button on his com. "Neal, have you landed?"

"The Kiwi is in the nest." came Neal's reply through their coms. "Heading for the vent now."

"Excellent. Tell me everything you see and hear. We'll be there in a little more than an hour."

"Chur mate."

Crackle gave a satisfied nod. So far all was good. Turning back around, he was glad to see everyone was dressed and ready to go. "Take your seats and buckle in. We land in just a few minutes."

Everyone did as they were told, and Crackle waited impatiently as they approached the airfield. They had to get everything perfect for this mission or V.I.L.E would likely cancel this team without ever giving him a chance to go after Carmen Sandiego. His team had some decent talents, but he didn't have a lot of confidence in them. They didn't seem serious enough, and two of them wouldn't stop fighting with each other. He would have to work hard to get them in proper shape before they could go on their main mission.

The moment they touched down, Crackle was to his feet and grabbing his duffel bag. "Get your stuff together." he ordered. "One of you needs to grab Neal's bag."

Theodore grabbed it without question, slinging it over his shoulder with his own.

By the time the plane came to a full stop they were all ready to go, and Crackle led the way, hopping out of the cargo plane without waiting for the steps to be put down. The others followed suit and minutes later, they were speeding down the highway in an army jeep.

"What's going on, Neal?" Crackle demanded, pressing his com.

"There are security cameras and two guards with AK-47s stationed in every hallway." he replied. "I'm just looking for the control room right now."

"Check in once you find it."

"Will do." Neal replied, once again going radio silent.

Roosevelt drove the jeep, and they sped down the highway, the rain and lightening only seeming to get worse the longer they drove. Crackle glanced behind him at Paper Star who still hadn't said more than a few words since he met her.

"Paper Star, you will be with me for this mission. You will take out the cameras as we move throughout the building. Theodore, Roosevelt and Dash will stay together, defending if we're found out. Does anyone have any questions about this before we arrive?"

"If we're seen?" Paper Star questioned.

"No witnesses who can identify our faces." Crackle responded. "As long as we get the ruby, it **might** be forgivable, but it's to be avoided at all costs."

Paper Star nodded, glancing down at the throwing star in her hand. This was nothing new for her, and she was actually looking forward to the challenge. It had been a while since her last mission, and she was eager to cause a little bit of destruction. She had never been a team player, and she honestly despised the idea of being on this team. All she had to do was play nice for a little while, and when Carmen Sandiego was dead, she would be on her own once again. Her entire team seemed to made up of morons, and she honestly didn't know what V.I.L.E were thinking. Double Trouble seemed to share a brain cell between them, Neal the Eel and Dash Haber were simply pathetic, and their leader was quite possibly brain damaged. If she didn't pay close attention to everything, there was no way they'd stand a chance against Carmen Sandiego.

"Neal the Eel reporting in." came a voice on their coms.

"Have you found the control room?"

"It's in the basement level 2B located between the laundry and the boiler room. Access requires a keycard and a pin code. I've seen a few people go in and it looks like the pin code is 1984."

"Good job." Crackle praised. "What are you doing right now?"

"Right now I'm trying to see if I can pickpocket a keycard from someone."

"Do **not** let yourself be seen." Crackle warned. "Stay in the vents at all costs."

"This isn't my first rodeo, wombat. I'll let you know when I have a card."

"Very well." Crackle replied, frowning. "Just be careful. We're about 50 minutes away."

"I should be done by then." Neal assured him. "I'm going to check out the entrances next."

"Keep in contact." Crackle ordered.

"Sure thing."

Crackle let out a breath of relief, things going exactly as planned. As long as Neal didn't get caught before they got there, they shouldn't have any problems. Glancing at his team mates, he frowned when he saw Dash was thumbing through a magazine, ignoring everyone else in the car.

"What are you doing?" Crackle demanded.

Dash didn't look up. "It's still nearly an hour before we're there."

"Keep your mind on the mission!" Crackle ordered, feeling fed up with Dash for that day.

"It's...research." Dash replied, turning a page.

Crackle gave him a skeptical look, and stared at the Vogue magazine with a frown. "Research?" he repeated.

"Of course. If I'm not up to date on the latest fashions, how can I be expected to accurately disguise myself? Just imagine the embarrassment if I wore last months colours! I'd be a laughing stock!"

Crackle squinted at him for a moment and then grabbed the magazine. Without a word, he rolled down the window and tossed it out, ignoring the indignant look Dash was shooting him.

"Mind on the mission." Crackle said. "Maybe we should go over the plan again?"

Dash sighed. "We already know the plan! We've gone over it 500 times, and at this point, it's probably coded into my DNA!"

"One more time." Crackle ordered.

Everyone in the car let out a loud groan.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The storm was at it's height when they finally arrived at the military base, and the jeep rocked from the force of the wind and rain. They parked the jeep in a nearby field and then eyed the tall fence surrounding the compound.

"This is the East side of the compound." Crackle informed his team. "The entrance Neal suggested we take is about 100 yards past this fence."

Dash knew it was his turn first, and so he put his hat on, hit a button and a lense came down in front of his eyes. Scanning the area on the other side of the fence, he could see hundreds of buried land mines. Looking up and down the field for the best place to breech, he finally saw the best spot.

"Over there." Dash said, pointing. "There are only a few landmines there."

"You lead the way, Dash Haber." Crackle said, opening the car door.

The second they left the jeep, they were instantly soaked from the heavy rains, and Dash grumbled to himself as he led them to the right spot. Crackle pressed his Crackle Rod against the fence, and there was a giant spark as the electricity in the fence was shorted out. Roosevelt had a giant pair of bolt-cutters, and he snipped a section of the fence down big enough for them to step through.

"Step exactly where I step." Dash informed them as he began slowly and carefully making his way across the field. Everyone followed him nervously, and to their relief, they made it safely across.

"The door for the kitchen staff should be just up ahead." Crackle told them, as he glanced around to make sure no one could see them.

Luckily, because of the weather, no one was being too vigilant, and as they snuck across the grounds, they didn't see a single person. They came to a metal door on the side of the building and without a single word, Paper Star approached to pick the lock. Within seconds the lock clicked open, and Crackle reached for the handle.

"Neal, we're about to enter the building. How do things look on the other side of this door?"

"Just a sec." came Neal's reply. "I'm almost to you."

A few seconds passed and then Neal's voice was back. "There's two guards standing right on the other side of the door. A camera is right above the door, but the rest of the hallway is clear."

Crackle turned to look at Double Trouble. "When I open the door, take out the two guards before they can radio for help."

The twins nodded and cracked their knuckles, ready for a fight. Crackle whipped the door open and the two guards turned around only to be punched in the face with such force, they were knocked backwards a good several yards down the hallway.

"Paper Star, camera." Crackle ordered.

With a lazy flick of her wrist, the camera fell to the floor shattered with a paper throwing star stabbed deeply into the back of it.

"I am going for the control room with Paper Star, and Haber you are going for the ruby with Double Trouble. Do **not** take it until you get the signal from me. Follow Neal's directions to get there."

Dash gave him a nod and pressed his com as Crackle headed for the nearby stairwell. "We're in." he told Neal. "Where is the ruby?"

"Heya, Haberdashery." Neal greeted. "The ruby is on the same floor you're currently on. You need to head towards section 1-D. You'll see a split in the hallway up ahead with a sign. Hopefully you've brushed up on your Arabic."

"Of course I know Arabic." Dash snapped, insulted.

The Countess Cleo was Egyptian and her native language was Arabic, and Dash had to study hard and fast to learn the language when she recruited him. She tended to switch back and forth between Arabic and English without even realizing it, and it made his life difficult until he became fluent. Although he spoke it better than he could write it, he could read well enough to get by.

"There are four armed guards at the split and if you can take them out quietly, it shouldn't alert the others up ahead."

Dash gave a nod at Double Trouble who stepped forward. They slowly crept up the hallway and when they came to the split, they peered around the corner seeing the four guards were gathered in a group chatting. Dash removed his hat, activated the hidden sawblades, and then threw it at the nearby camera. He then gave Double Trouble another nod, and they charged out into the hallway and lunged towards the group of men just as the camera was destroyed. Two men were seized by each brother and before they had time to react, the men's heads were knocked together hard, the cracks causing Dash to grimace. As Double Trouble pulled the unconscious men into the side hallway out of sight, Dash caught his hat as it returned, and studied the sign in front of him.

Motioning for the others to follow him, he headed for section D at a run, hoping things would keep going smoothly. He destroyed every camera they came to while the twins took out the guards.

"Neal, where is the keycard you stole?" Crackle demanded through the coms.

"Sticking out of the vent beside the door." Neal answered. "You need my help, wombat?"

"No, go help Haber get the ruby." Crackle ordered. "We're doing fine down here. All cameras have been disabled, and now I'm almost to the control room."

"I'm doing fine." Dash replied, not wanting Neal's help. "The snake can stay in the vents."

"No, you can use all the help you can get." Crackle responded. "Neal **will** help."

Dash scowled but said nothing more as he ran up the hallway, the twins at his heals.

"The room you're looking for has a blue painted door and two guards are stationed in front of it." Neal told him. "I'll be there in just a few minutes."

Dash had no intention of waiting for him, and didn't bother answering. He normally preferred to work alone, but he had to admit Double Trouble were incredibly useful. The twins smashed their way through any guards without hesitation, and Dash only had to concentrate on taking out the cameras.

"Are you ready, Haber?" Crackle demanded.

"Not yet." Dash replied. "I'm almost there."

"You're behind schedule, hurry up." Crackle ordered. "I'm at the control panel."

Dash quickened his pace, and a few moments later the blue door came into view. Tossing his hat at the camera, he stepped aside as Double Trouble lunged for the two guards.

"I'm at the door." Dash informed Crackle.

"I don't know what's inside the room." Neal admitted. "The view from the vent was limited, but I definitely know the ruby is in there."

"Be prepared for a fight." Crackle warned. "Wait for Neal before you go in."

Dash rolled his eyes and approached the door. Kneeling down, he peered through the keyhole and could see several shadows moving around inside. He turned to Double Trouble and motioned for them to come over. He picked the lock as quietly as he could and once he had the door unlocked, he pressed his com.

"**Now**, Crackle, we're going for the ruby."

"We'll meet at the jeep when you're done." Crackle said.

"Wait, I'm not-" Neal was cut off as Crackle cut all power to the building and blocked all incoming and outgoing signals.

The second the power went out, Dash threw open the door and then stepped aside as Double Trouble barreled in. It went dark for about four seconds and then the battery lighting came on illuminating the room. Dash ran in after the twins and saw over a dozen A.C.M.E agents were waiting for them. Letting out a curse, Dash ducked and dodged around the agents, his only goal the ruby. The ruby was in a glass case in the center of the room, and Dash ran for it, trusting Double Trouble to take care of A.C.M.E. Pressing a button on his hat, a small laser shot out, and he neatly sliced a hole in the glass. Dash was then grabbed from behind and yanked away from the ruby before he could reach for it. Looking up, he saw an enormous A.C.M.E agent had a hold of him and no matter how hard he struggled he couldn't break the hold.

"You're under arrest!" the man said. "Anything you say or do will be held against you!"

Dash spared a glance in the Twins direction and saw they were busy fighting off ten of the agents. Just as he was debating on what he should do, the man holding him let out a loud grunt and fell forward unconscious. Looking up, he saw Neal standing there metal pipe in hand. Neal was positively filthy, covered in dirt and cobwebs and Dash hurriedly stepped away from him. Neal flashed Dash a grin, and then ran to help Double Trouble. Dash watched him for a moment as the other man used his slick suit to avoid anyone catching him, and Neal swept several agent's feet out from under them with practiced ease.

Dash reached out and plucked the ruby from it's resting place, and just as he straightened up, another dozen agents swarmed into the room. A woman with short dark hair was leading them, and when her eyes fell on Dash, she held out her gun towards him.

"Freeze!" she yelled out.

Dash was not much of a fighter and knew he didn't stand a chance against so many agents. Knowing the priority was the ruby, his eyes fell on Neal and he knew what he needed to do.

"Neal!" he yelled out, flinging the ruby across the room as hard as he could.

Neal looked up, saw the ruby sailing towards him and caught it, knowing exactly what Dash was thinking. They needed to get the ruby out of the building, even if that meant some of them being captured. Neal slid and dodged every attempt to grab him, running for the vent as fast as he could. Popping the ruby into his mouth so he'd have his hands free to climb, he jumped and grabbed onto the edge of the vent. Just as he was pulling himself up, he felt his ankle grabbed and he was yanked down to the floor hard. The impact caused him to reflexively swallow and his eyes widened in horror when he suddenly couldn't breathe. Grasping at his throat, he gagged, and he looked up into the face of the short-haired agent.

"Oh my, are you choking?!" she asked in alarm.

Neal didn't answer, too busy clawing at his throat and coughing in an attempt to dislodge it. The agent wasted no time and she knelt down beside him and gave him a firm hit between the shoulder blades. This only caused the ruby to slip down further, and Neal panicked, hoping this wouldn't be the way he died. What an embarrassing way to go! The agent suddenly grabbed him from behind and began the Heimlich on him, having a hard time keeping a grip on him because of the suit. Just as Neal's vision was starting to go blurry, he felt the ruby dislodge and it slid all the way down. Taking in a massive breath, Neal coughed a few times, rubbing at his throat in relief.

"Are you alright?" the agent asked, actually looking concerned.

"No..." Neal replied, realizing he had just swallowed 230 million dollars.

"Did...did you **swallow** the ruby?" she asked.

Neal took another deep breath and then lashed out with a foot, knocking the agent off her feet. As he scrambled up, the agent fumbled with her gun and to his horror she pressed the trigger. Instead of the bullet he was expecting, a cloud of gas came out and hit him in the face. Letting out a startled yelp as the gas burned his lungs, he suddenly found himself completely exhausted. He fell to the floor unconscious and the agent let out a breath of relief. That was a close one, he'd almost escaped!

Double Trouble stepped up their game and smashed through the agents like two hulks on a mission, and the gas shot at them barely slowed them down.

"We have to get out of here." Dash said, shooting a glance to the unconscious Neal and letting out a curse. So much for their first mission...

"Grab Neal and let's go!" Dash bellowed, running for the door.

Theodore bulldozed his way through the agents, swatted the short haired agent aside and grabbed Neal up like he weighed nothing at all. Having a hard time keeping a hold of him because of the slick suit, Theodore carried him out of the room with both his arms wrapped around him as his brother defended his back. They ran back the same way they had come as fast as they could, with the remaining A.C.M.E agents at their heals. The power suddenly came back on, and they heard a rustle in their ears as the coms came back online.

"Dash, did you get it?" Crackle demanded.

"Someone tipped A.C.M.E off." Dash responded. "They were waiting for us. The mission's a bust."

Crackle went silent for a moment before answering. "Just get back to the jeep and we'll deal with this later." His tone was anything but happy.

Dash scowled. This was not going to go over well with V.I.L.E. It looked pretty bad to fail their first ever mission. As they ran up the hallway, Roosevelt paused to grab one of the unconscious guards from earlier and he threw him as hard as he could back at the following agents. His aim was perfect, and they were all knocked off their feet from the force, giving them a comfortable lead. They burst out of the building, and saw Crackle and Paper Star waiting for them at the edge of the mine-field.

"What happened to **him**?" Crackle asked, indicating Neal.

"Knock-out gas." Theodore replied.

"Dash, lead the way." Crackle ordered. "We need to get out of here before the military realizes what we did."

Crackle pressed a button on his hat and the lense came down so he could safely lead them across. As they crossed the field, they heard a loud explosion right behind them, and they saw A.C.M.E agents had attempted to follow them. There were another two explosions as mines were activated and A.C.M.E retreated, knowing it was too dangerous to follow.

The short haired A.C.M.E agent frowned after them from where she stood at the edge of the mine field, and she pulled out her com.

"This is agent Argent, V.I.L.E is getting away. They are on the East side of the building on foot."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dash led them across the field, and Crackle took the lead as they ran as fast as they could towards the jeep.

They made it safely to the jeep and everyone jumped in, Theodore holding Neal on his lap like a child. As they sped off into the night, A.C.M.E had no chance of catching up to them. After a few minutes of driving, they finally relaxed and Dash let out a deep breath of relief.

"That was a close one." he commented. "I thought for sure they were going to capture us."

"We failed our mission." Crackle said, his tone furious.

"Nothing we could have done about it." Dash replied. "There were over two dozen A.C.M.E agents waiting for us. Someone tipped them off we were going to be there."

Crackle scowled. "Carmen Sandiego."

Paper Star rolled her eyes, not surprised they had failed.

"I will have to report this to V.I.L.E once we're safely in the air." Crackle said, knowing Dr. Bellum was going to be incredibly disappointed with him. He wouldn't be surprised if the team was immediately disbanded and he was returned to the lab for further training.

The ride to the airport was done in silence, everyone upset and tired. A new plane was waiting for them when they got there, and Theodore carried Neal aboard while his brother carried their bags. Everyone was cold and soaking wet, and as they toweled off, Theodore knelt down beside Neal to help dry him off a bit.

"That's probably the closest he's gotten to a shower in decades." Dash muttered as he wrung out his hat.

"Naw, I had one with your mum last night." Neal mumbled in reply, eyes still closed.

Dash scowled and threw a towel at him.

Neal let out a low groan, and raised a hand to his face. "Ugh, what hit me?" he demanded.

"A towel." Theodore responded.

"Not what I meant, love, but okay."

When Neal opened his eyes, he saw his team standing over him and he could feel movement below him. "Are we back on the plane?" he asked.

Crackle's expression was upset as he nodded. "We failed our mission, and I'm about to report to V.I.L.E. Are you injured?"

Neal shook his head as he slowly sat up, clutching at his head from the pain the movement caused. "Failed?" he repeated.

"Yeah, genius, you let A.C.M.E get the ruby!" Dash snarled.

Slowly Neal's hand went down to his stomach. "Er...I have the ruby."

"You do?" Roosevelt asked in awe.

Neal gave a nod.

Crackle was kneeling beside him in an instant, patting him down. "Where?" he demanded.

Neal winced. "Um, about that...I may have accidentally swallowed it during the fight..."

Everyone stared at him with wide eyes, and then Dash hit a button on his hat. Kneeling down, he scanned Neal using his lense, and then gave a nod to Crackle. "It's in his stomach." he confirmed.

Crackle had never felt more relieved. "We succeeded." he said. "We did it."

Dash curled up his lip in disgust at Neal. "How did you manage to swallow something the size of a golfball?" he demanded.

"Talent." Neal replied, rubbing at his eyes tiredly.

"No, it's genius!" Crackle praised, clapped him hard on the back. "Everyone did fantastic tonight!"

Crackle got to his feet and pulled a tablet out of his duffel-bag. Dialing Dr. Bellum's number, he only had to wait a few seconds before she answered.

"Crackle." she greeted. "How did your mission go?"

"Someone tipped off A.C.M.E about the heist, but we were still successful. We have the ruby."

Dr. Bellum gave him a pleased smile. "I knew you could handle it. I will inform the others of your success, and you should feel proud of your accomplishment. You will hand off the ruby to another agent in three day's time in Dallas, Texas. I will be in touch with more details."

The screen went black, and Crackle swelled with pride, this being the most praise he'd ever received from the doctor. He had made her proud and that was all the reward he needed.

"We're headed to Texas." he informed his team. "We'll hand off the ruby in three days to another agent."

Dash looked Neal up and down and then crossed his arms with a frown. "Not to rain on everyone's parade, but how are we going to get the ruby?"

"I have a few ideas." Crackle responded with a shrug. "Don't worry, we'll get it."

Neal's expression faltered, having a feeling he wasn't going to like this...

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**I'm going to be posting one-shots about each and every character as this story goes on. The one-shots will be posted as chapters in a separate story, and so make sure to keep an eye out. I'll likely title it something unoriginal like 'Carmen Sandiego One-shots' or something similar.**

**Don't forget to leave a comment if you liked the chapter! :D**

**The next chapter will be in a few days.**


	4. Doctor Brownswell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone, not too much to say about this chapter. I'm already working on chapter 5 and so it should be out in a few days.
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 4**

**Doctor Brownswell (aka the chapter in which Mime Bomb is a sulky little diva)**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Le Chèvre stood in the training room and eyed the equipment critically. It wasn't a bad set-up per se, just not really what he needed for parkour. He glanced up at the rafters above and gave a nod, satisfied with what he saw. Dragging several pommel horses across the room, he arranged things to his liking and then began to stretch, preparing for a good work-out. He heard the door behind him bang open and when he turned around, El Topo smiled at him, clearly just there to watch. El Topo settled himself down on the floor out of the way, and Le Chèvre returned to his stretches without a word.

"Are you sure you feel up to this, Jean Paul?" El Topo asked worriedly.

"Oui." Le Chèvre replied impatiently. He'd already been through this with both Shadowsan and Carmen not five minutes before. "I can't miss any more training time or my skills will begin to slip."

"Just be careful, mi amigo."

Le Chèvre rolled his eyes and didn't answer. He stretched for a few more minutes, and then sprinted for the first pummel horse. He vaulted over it easily, and leapt for the second one which was higher up. He flipped over it, and grabbed the nearby climbing wall, expertly scaling it as easily as someone would a staircase. There was a burning heaviness in his chest, and Le Chèvre ignored it, knowing he was probably just a bit out of shape from his week off from working out. When he reached the top of the climbing wall, he jumped and grabbed a hold of one of the support beams next to the ceiling, pulling himself up. The burning sensation increased, but Le Chèvre was stubborn and he pushed himself on, leaping and climbing along the roof with practiced ease. He then ran along one of the narrow support beams, preparing to leap across to the next one. Just as he took the jump, he felt his chest seize up and he couldn't breathe. He nearly missed the jump but caught the support beam with his fingers, dangling dangerously.

"Jean Paul!" El Topo cried out in concern.

Le Chèvre struggled to breathe, but couldn't get any air, and he felt his fingers begin to slip in his panic. Grabbing the beam with his second hand, he struggled to pull himself up as El Topo yelled in distress from below him. He chest burned with agony, but he managed to roll himself up onto the beam out of danger. As he laid there gasping for air, he suddenly felt hands on him. Looking up, he saw Carmen hovering over him worriedly.

"Jean Paul, what's the matter?" she asked him.

Le Chèvre pointed to his chest, still fighting to breathe.

Carmen pressed her com. "Player, call an ambulance, Le Chèvre can't breathe."

"On the phone with them now, Red."

Carmen reached out and wrapped her arms around Le Chèvre and then used her grapple on the support beam. "Okay, hold on Le Chèvre, I'm going to get you down."

Le Chèvre was barely conscious at this point, but nodded as he tightened his grip on her shirt. Carmen swung them down to the ground, and El Topo scooped Le Chèvre out of her arms in an instant.

"Jean Paul?" he cried out. "What's wrong? Jean Paul!"

"An ambulance is on the way, Antonio. We need to get him outside to meet the paramedics."

The last thing Le Chèvre saw was El Topo's panicked expression, and then everything went dark. As El Topo ran through the warehouse to get outside, the others quickly followed having no idea what was happening. Shadowsan reached out a hand and stopped Mime Bomb as he went to follow them outside.

"No." he said firmly. "You are still grounded and you're not leaving this base."

Mime Bomb's ears turned red in embarrassment, still unable to believe Shadowsan had grounded him like an unruly teenager. He motioned towards Le Chèvre, and Shadowsan shook his head.

"Absolutely not. You've proven you can't be trusted to do as you're told, and if we run into trouble, I don't want to have to worry about you. Stay put, or we'll be having another discussion about respect and obedience."

Mime Bomb grimaced at the thought of another three hour lecture, and he crossed his arms, petulant but not arguing.

"Player will be keeping an eye on you and if you step a single toe outside I'll know about it."

Shadowsan gave him one last warning look and then left without another word. Mime Bomb plunked himself down on the couch, expression furious, and Carmen gave him a apologetic look.

"Zack, you stay with Mime Bomb." Carmen ordered on her way past. "He needs to call Dr. Brownswell at 1pm. Make sure he talks with her."

She didn't wait to hear the reply, disappearing out the door after El Topo and the others. Zack exchanged a worried look with Mime Bomb, and then took a seat on the couch beside him. Mime Bomb motioned towards the door, knowing it was obvious the other boy wanted to go with the others, but Zack shook his head.

"Naw, man, I'm not leaving you here by yourself."

Mime Bomb pointed at himself and then the door.

Again Zack shook his head. "No, you can't go either. This doctor's appointment is too important to skip and Shadowsan would ring your neck."

Mime Bomb frowned and then pointed to the nearby laptop and then pointed to the door.

Zack raised an eyebrow. "Well, you **could** do that." he admitted. "But do you really want to have a therapy session in the middle of a hospital waiting room? Or the very public lecture Shadowsan will give you?"

Mime Bomb crossed his arms with a sigh. Okay, maybe not then...

Zack reached for the television remote and glanced over at him. "You wanna watch the new Avengers movie?"

Letting out a deep and grumpy sigh, Mime Bomb gave him a nod.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Le Chèvre slowly opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was El Topo leaning over him worriedly. El Topo had a firm grip on his hand, and Le Chèvre became aware there was an oxygen mask on his face.

"How are you feeling, mi alma?"

Le Chèvre didn't answer right away, his gaze slowly travelling around the empty hospital room.

"The others are here, but they would only let one person in at a time. Everyone is waiting in the lobby." El Topo explained.

"I couldn't breathe." Le Chèvre stated, his voice tired. "My chest hurt."

"I know." El Topo said, face etched in worry. "The doctors did some x-rays and an MRI, and they're still trying to figure out what happened."

Le Chèvre let out a low groan and glanced down at the I.V in his arm. "I can't stay here." he told him. "V.I.L.E could be monitoring the hospitals."

"Let them." El Topo said fiercely. "You are going to stay until we find out what's wrong."

Le Chèvre looked like he wanted to argue, but instead let out a deep sigh. "Sorry I scared you, mon amour."

El Topo smiled at him. "It wasn't your fault. I'm just glad Carmen was able to get to you as fast as she did! I don't think I could have climbed up there!"

Le Chèvre averted his gaze, remembering how Carmen had rescued him. He knew it was probably because of her that he was even still alive. That's twice now he owed her his life.

A soft knock came at the door and they both looked up to see someone in a white coat entering with a clipboard.

"Mr. John Molshev?"

Le Chèvre glanced over at El Topo who flushed.

"That would be me." Le Chèvre replied.

"I'm glad to see you're finally awake. How do you feel? Is your breathing any better?"

Le Chèvre gave him a nod. "Yes, my breathing seems to be fine now."

The doctor nodded and then took a seat on the chair beside the bed. "And you are?" he asked, glancing at El Topo who still held tightly onto Le Chèvre's hand.

"I'm his partner." El Topo responded.

The doctor gave a nod. "Is it alright if I discuss your results in front of your partner, Mr. Molshev?"

"Yes, of course."

The doctor nodded again. "Alright then, I'll start off by being blunt. Mr. Molshev, are you going to tell me why there's a recent bullet wound on your left lung?"

Le Chèvre immediately went tight-lipped and the doctor let out a sigh.

"That's what I thought. Whoever did your surgery did not do a very neat job, and the cause of your shortness of breath is due to the scarring that's taking place. If you hadn't come to us when you did, you could have died."

El Topo stared at the doctor with wide eyes. "Is there anything we can do?"

The doctor reached into the pocket of his coat and placed a blue asthma inhaler on the bedside table. "Anytime you feel any shortness of breath, take a few puffs from this and wait a few minutes and then repeat. If your breathing still does not improve, you need to go to the emergency room right away."

"And when will it get better?" Le Chèvre demanded. "I need to return to training. I'm an...athlete."

The doctor let out a sigh. "It won't improve, the scarring is permanent."

Le Chèvre felt like his entire world just came crashing down and he heard El Topo gasp beside him. He stared at the doctor in shock, unable to say anything, and it was El Topo who spoke up first.

"Isn't there anything that can be done? He can't spend the rest of his life like this!"

"We can possibly attempt surgery to reduce the scarring, but it's not guaranteed to work. This is something we would have to investigate."

El Topo glanced over to Le Chèvre, but the other man said nothing at all, simply looking devastated.

"Of course, we want to try everything we can. Do whatever tests you need."

The doctor gave a nod. "We're going to keep Mr. Molshev here overnight to run some tests, but he'll be able to go home in the morning. In the meantime, I recommend getting him a home oxygen kit for when he has bad breathing days. If he's the slightest bit wheezy, keep him on oxygen until it improves. If it gets worse even with the oxygen, he needs to be taken to the hospital."

El Topo gave the doctor a nod. "Yes, of course."

"I understand the rest of your...family is waiting in the lobby?"

El Topo gave another nod since Le Chèvre still remained silent.

"They can come in to see him now, but keep in mind visiting hours are over at 8pm."

"I understand, thank you doctor."

"I'll be back to check on you in a while." the doctor said, making a few notes on his clipboard. "Try not to over-excite yourself."

Once the doctor was gone from the room, El Topo gave Le Chèvre's hand a hard squeeze. When his partner still did not react, El Topo pulled him into a tight hug.

"It'll be alright, Jean Paul." El Topo assured him. "You'll see, everything will be fine."

"What good am to anyone like this?" Le Chèvre asked, tone bitter.

"You are important to me no matter what." El Topo assured him. "Whether you can scale a skyscraper or whether you're in a hospital doesn't change the way I feel about you. Your value does not change because to me you're priceless."

Le Chèvre couldn't stop the snort from escaping him and he pushed El Topo away. "You are the sappiest Latino who ever lived, Antonio."

El Topo gave him a wide smile. "Perhaps, but since you're the grumpiest Frenchman in existence, we balance each other out."

Le Chèvre smirked. "I suppose we should allow the crew in soon."

El Topo gave an eager nod. "I'll go get them!"

"Tell them I don't want to talk about this." Le Chèvre said.

"You want me to tell them what's going on out in the waiting room?" El Topo asked uncertainly.

Le Chèvre nodded.

"Very well, Jean Paul, but try not to be too angry with them if they don't listen." El Topo said, getting up and approaching the door. "They really do care about you, you know."

The moment Le Chèvre was alone, he removed his oxygen mask and turned his gaze to the asthma inhaler. With an angry curse he threw it against the wall as hard as he could, shattering the plastic and sending the canister rolling away under the radiator. Raising a hand up to his face, he took a deep breath, having no idea what he was going to do.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Zack glanced down at his watch and saw it was almost time for Mime Bomb's appointment. Pausing the movie, he turned to look over at him, seeing Mime Bomb was still looking sulky.

"Carmen said you can borrow her laptop until we can get you one of your own."

Mime Bomb nodded, but didn't move.

"You only have five minutes until your appointment." Zack informed him, getting up and stretching. "We should get you set up so you're not late."

Mime Bomb slid down further on the couch until he was half laying down.

"Oh come on." Zack said in annoyance. "Don't be like this. Everyone will blame me if you miss this appointment!"

Mime Bomb crossed his arms, and Zack let out a groan. "Are you going to move?" he demanded.

Mime Bomb shook his head.

Zack sighed heavily. "Okay, you know what, that's fine. I'll just set up the laptop right here. No one else is home anyway."

Mime Bomb watched as Zack crossed the room and grabbed Carmen's laptop. He carried it over and set it on the coffee table in front of Mime Bomb and opened it. Sitting down beside him, he typed in Carmen's password and then clicked on Skype. He gave another glance to Mime Bomb and then let out a sigh when he saw the stubborn look on his face.

"Dude, just do it. I know therapy sucks, but you still need to do it."

Mime Bomb remained arms crossed, and didn't move and Zack felt himself getting frustrated.

"Fine, you know what? I'm going to connect the call and then sit here with you."

Zack clicked on the saved contact on Skype and then waited as the video call rang through. A few moment's later, Dr. Brownswell answered. Her gaze went to Mime Bomb first who glared at her balefully and then to Zack who gave her a friendly smile.

"Good afternoon." she greeted the two of them. "My name is Dr. Marin Brownswell, and you must be Mime Bomb?"

Mime Bomb didn't react and so Zack spoke up.

"Yes." he answered. "And I'm Mime Bomb's emotional support Zack, kinda like an emotional support dog but not as furry."

"You're his brother?" she guessed, noting that both boys had the same shade of red hair. She wasn't expecting the thick Boston accent however.

"Sure am." Zack answered. "I'm his two years younger brother. He's my best bud, and we hang out together."

Mime Bomb glanced over at Zack, his expression mellowing a bit.

"Are you staying during today's session?" she asked him.

Zack turned to look at Mime Bomb. "I think for today's session I will because Mime Bomb doesn't really seem very keen on it."

"I completely understand." she answered, giving Mime Bomb a gentle smile. "Is that alright with you? Do you want Zack to stay?"

Mime Bomb still didn't move.

The doctor could see Carmen was right and Mime Bomb was not going to be easy. He was younger than she expected and looked to be around twenty-one or so, although it was difficult to tell for sure with the make-up.

"How about if I start off by telling you a little about myself?" she suggested.

Mime Bomb stared at her for a moment and then shrugged.

Dr. Brownswell gave him a smile in return. Well, at least it was something.

"I was born in Leeds, and I currently work in London." she began. "I have a daughter named Mary who is about your age, a wife of 18 years named Eloise, and three Springer Spaniels named Frankie, Mortimer and Lucy. I have my own practice and have been helping people for nearly 25 years. I'm fluent in American sign Language, British Sign Language and French Sign Language. Do you prefer me to speak or to sign?" she asked.

She received another shrug. The doctor studied him for a moment, noting that he looked very stressed and wondered if he'd had a bad day.

"How have you been sleeping?" she asked him.

Mime Bomb averted his gaze and Zack elbowed him. "You gotta talk to her!" he whispered a bit too loudly.

When Mime Bomb continued looking away, Zack frowned and turned towards the laptop. "He hasn't been sleeping well at all. Every time he falls asleep, he has nightmares and sometimes it's hard to wake him from them. Last night was so bad, he ended up in bed with me for the rest of the night. He was so terrified, he wouldn't let me go until he fell back asleep."

Mime Bomb turned towards him looking completely outraged, but Zack was unapologetic.

"She's a doctor, she needs to know this stuff!" he defended.

"Mime Bomb, are all your nightmares about what happened to you while you were kidnapped?" Dr. Brownswell asked gently.

Mime Bomb turned his glare on her.

"I know you went through a terrible experience, and even now you're still hurting from it, but if you keep it all to yourself it will just keep getting worse and worse. Talking about it seems painful right now, but it will get easier the more we address it. My goal is to get you to where you can sleep a full night without a single nightmare."

Mime Bomb was staring at her, clearly listening to what she was saying and so she continued. "Once that finally happens, I'm hoping we can then address the reason for your silence. I'm sure with enough work, we can get you speaking in no time."

Mime Bomb's eyes widened in a terror that she didn't understand and he reached out and slammed the laptop shut, ending the call.

"Mime Bomb!" Zack yelled out in surprise. "Call her back! That was really rude!"

Mime Bomb got up and dodged around Zack as he tried to grab him, and fled to their bedroom. Zack followed right after him, and to his annoyance, he discovered Mime Bomb had locked the bedroom door. He pounded on it angrily and demanded to be let in, but was ignored. Glaring at the door in frustration, Zack headed back into the living room and opened the laptop. He called the doctor back, and a moment later the call was answered.

"Hello again, Zack." she said, taking note that Mime Bomb was no longer in the room. "I guess I pressed him a bit too hard for a first meeting. How is he?"

Zack scowled. "He locked himself in our bedroom and won't come out. I don't know why he's acting like this today! He's not normally like this!"

"It's stress." she assured him. "He hasn't been getting enough sleep, he's been having nightmares, and now he has to talk to a stranger about all of his worst memories. It's very understandable that he's upset."

"What can I do?" Zack asked helplessly.

The doctor thought for a few seconds and then said. "I think he really needs a whole day that's all about him." she said. "He needs to make some good memories to replace the bad. I think tomorrow you and he should go out and spend the whole day just having fun without worrying about anything else. Do anything he wants and keep him distracted until he's so exhausted he doesn't have the energy to think about anything else. Go to a movie, go to an amusement park, go to the zoo, anything at all. Just be a good friend and a good brother, and have fun with him."

"I'd really love to." Zack told her earnestly. "But we can't."

The doctor frowned at him. "And why is that?" she asked.

"Mime Bomb is grounded right now. He's not allowed to leave the base-er...house."

"Grounded?" the doctor repeated. "If you don't mind me asking, what did he do?"

"Disobedience and reckless behaviour." Zack replied with a shrug. "The same I usually get grounded for, but he got Shadowsan **really** mad. I mean, really **really** mad!"

"Who?" Dr, Brownswell asked in confusion.

"Oh, he's our...dad." Zack answered, not quite sure how to classify Shadowsan.

"And he won't make an exception?"

Zack immediately shook his head. "There's no way."

"How long has Mime Bomb been grounded for? A week? Two weeks?"

"Until he's 35." Zack answered, distinctly remembering how Shadowsan had shouted that at Mime Bomb during the second half of his lecture on the plane. "He said he wasn't stepping foot outside until his hair was graying and he'd finally outgrown his childishness."

Dr. Brownswell seriously doubted Shadowsan really meant that, and she gave Zack a nod. "Do you suppose your father would be willing to speak to me about it?"

"I can ask him when he gets home." Zack promised her. "But he never changes his mind about anything."

"I can be a very persuasive person." she assured him. "I'll give you my mobile number that he can reach me at when he gets home."

The number appeared in the skype window and Zack gave her a nod.

"Since it doesn't look like Mime Bomb is going to be returning, I suppose this is where we should end things for today. I am going to schedule him a new appointment tomorrow for the evening, and hopefully he'll be in a better mood."

"Okay, thank you, doc." Zack said. "Mime Bomb's a good guy, he's just having a hard time."

"And you're a good friend and a good brother. He's lucky to have you."

Zack blushed and gave her a smile. "Goodbye Dr. Brownswell."

"Goodbye Zack."

Once the call had ended, Zack closed the laptop and then headed back for the bedroom. He knocked on the door and then waited.

"Okay, you win." Zack called in through the door. "No more therapy for today. Now will you unlock the door and let me in?"

There were no sounds from within and Zack frowned. He knocked a little louder. "Mime Bomb?" he questioned. "Please open the door."

When the door still remained locked, he shifted a bit getting worried. "Come on man, you aren't doing something stupid in there, are you? If you don't let me in, I'm going to have to knock this door down in case you're hurting yourself. Come on, just let me in."

There was silence inside the room and just as he was debating on kicking the door down, the lock clicked open. Zack opened the door just in time to see Mime Bomb crawl into bed and cover himself with every blanket in the room. He had stripped both beds of their blankets and had completely cocooned himself. Zack cautiously approached and then took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"You're really upset over this." he stated. "Was it what she said about speaking?"

The pile of blankets shifted, but Mime Bomb didn't otherwise move.

"Listen buddy, I don't know why you don't speak, but if you don't want to then I'm fine with that. I like you just fine the way you are. I don't always know what you're trying to tell me, but I'm getting better. Maybe you can teach me a little sign language to make it easier for the both of us? I know I'm dumb, but I should be able to at least learn a **few** signs."

There was another shift, but still no sign that Mime Bomb planned on coming out of his cocoon.

"I know that we're pretending to be a family for the doctor, but to be honest I like the idea of having you as my brother. I always wanted a brother and I've always wanted a large family. I have that now with all you guys, and maybe, just maybe you want that too?"

Mime Bomb pulled a few of the blankets aside and looked up at Zack, expression uncertain.

"What do you say? Brothers? You already look like Ivy and me anyway. You might as well accept your fate and become family."

Slowly Mime Bomb reached out and took both of Zack's hands and Zack allowed it, looking on in confusion. Mime Bomb folded Zack's hands into fists, placed them both together and then slid them away from each other, one up and the other down.

"Er...what?" Zack asked.

Mime Bomb pointed to himself and then to Zack, and then repeated the gesture using Zack's hands. He then made Zack's hands into the fists again and slid them away from each other. Zack's eyes widened in realization.

"Brothers?" he asked. "Is this the sign for brothers?"

Mime Bomb gave him a tentative smile and nodded. Zack repeated the sign and then grinned widely.

"Awesome, my first sign. We'll have to celebrate somehow!"

Zack glanced around for inspiration and then he remembered something. "Oh! I think your doctor is trying to get Shadowsan to end your grounding."

Mime Bomb gave him a skeptical look.

"I know, I know, but she said she was going to try. She didn't mean to upset you so bad and she seems really nice. I think you should give her another chance. I mean, if she can get you un-grounded, that **alone** is worth giving her another chance!"

Mime Bomb let out a sigh of resignation and then nodded.

"Now, I'm going to point out the obvious here. We're in California and you're wearing long pants and a sweater, and you've wrapped yourself in like twelve blankets. There's no way you're not roasting in there. You should probably come out of there before you end up in the hospital with Le Chèvre."

Mime Bomb slowly sat up and kicked aside the blankets.

"We really need to find you some clothes better suited for the weather." Zack stated. "Maybe if the doctor manages to sweet-talk Shadowsan we can go shopping tomorrow?"

Mime Bomb wasn't going to hold his breath on that one, but he nodded all the same.

"Wanna go steal Ivy's candy stash and finish the movie?"

Mime Bomb nodded again, and got to his feet. She had moved her candy stash without Zack knowing, but he knew where it was. If there was one thing he enjoyed, it was stealing Ivy's things.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Le Chèvre looked up as his hospital door opened, and all his teammates spilled into the room sporting smiles. Ivy was holding a smiley face balloon she'd obviously gotten from the hospital giftshop and El Topo held a stuffed mole he'd likely found in the shop as well.

"For you, mi amor!" El Topo said proudly, setting the mole on his lap. "To keep you company whenever I'm not by your side."

Le Chèvre sneered down at the toy in disdain, but was actually secretly pleased with the adorable mole. He would have accepted **any** present El Topo brought for him. Ivy tied the balloon to the end of his bed, and everyone gathered around him.

"How are you feeling, Jean Paul?" Carmen asked him.

He turned a glare on her. "Fine." he said shortly.

"You look a lot better." she said, offering him a smile. "You'll be out of here in no time."

"Tomorrow." he replied.

"That's great!" Ivy exclaimed. "I'll have to bake you a welcome home cake...once I learn how to make one!"

Chase rolled his eyes. "That's what cake mixes are for." he said.

Shadowsan stared down at Le Chèvre for a few moments and then said. "Things may seem difficult right now, Le Chèvre, but you need to give your body the time it needs to heal. Don't try to push yourself beyond your limits because it will only hurt you. Take things slow and easy for a while."

Le Chèvre said nothing, simply staring down at the toy instead. El Topo noticed the pieces of blue plastic on the floor and he shot Le Chèvre a hard look, realizing it was the inhaler. Kneeling down, he picked up the shards, and then began looking for the canister. It took him a moment to find it under the radiator, but he grabbed it and then approached the bed, setting everything down on the table.

"Perhaps, you need some time to rest." El Topo said, tone angry. "I will find a doctor to get you a new inhaler and return in a few minutes to talk with you. I think everyone should return after supper when you've had time to think everything through."

Carmen took the hint that trouble was brewing in paradise and she motioned for everyone to leave. She gave Le Chèvre a gentle smile and said. "We were worried about you, and we're all glad you're going to be okay. We'll take a quick run home to get you an overnight bag and then be back around suppertime, okay?"

Le Chèvre gave her a nod.

"See ya later, Jean Paul!" Ivy said brightly.

"Soigne-toi bien." Chase said to him with a nod.

Shadowsan gave him a pat on the shoulder, and a nod and then followed after the others out of the room.

"Where's Tigress and the others?" Le Chèvre asked, finally noticing her absence.

Carmen hesitated. "Er...Tigress got thrown out of the hospital for fighting your doctor..."

"She didn't like what he had to say about your condition..." El Topo said with a wince. "The good news is you're getting a new doctor, but the bad news is Tigress is not allowed to return."

"We'll try to smuggle her in later." Carmen stage-whispered with a smile. "Mime Bomb is still grounded to base, and Zack stayed with him to keep him company."

Le Chèvre gave a nod, and so Carmen waved goodbye and turned towards the door.

Le Chèvre reached out and caught her by the wrist. Carmen was startled and glanced back at him with wide eyes.

"Carmen?"

"Yes?" she answered.

Le Chèvre looked away from her. "Thank you."

"No worries, Tigress would probably find her own way back in any way."

Le Chèvre shook his head. "No, not about that. Thank you for saving my life...twice now."

Carmen was even more surprised. "We're friends, of course I would help you."

Le Chèvre did not answer and did not look at her.

"I'll be back soon, and so rest up." Carmen told him.

"I'll walk you out." El Topo told her. "I need to find a doctor anyway."

As they left the room and shut the door, Le Chèvre picked up the stuffed mole and stared down at its smiling face. He had a feeling his other mole wasn't going to be smiling when he returned, and let out a sigh. Maybe he could claim he broke the inhaler by accident? Dismissing the idea as soon as he'd thought of it, Le Chèvre knew he deserved to be yelled at.

To his annoyance, his chest was beginning to feel tight again and so he reattached the oxygen mask to his face, and leaned back in bed, hoping his new doctor might have a brighter prognosis.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**Don't forget to leave a comment if you liked the chapter! :D**

**The next chapter will be in a few days.**


	5. Texas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone, I accidentally got carried away on this chapter. lol I keep doing this...Oh well, Here you go though, have a super-long chapter that's entirely villain filler. lol
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 5**

**Texas**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Neal clutched the garbage can as he retched into it, Crackle hovering over him expectantly. He coughed and retched until his ribs hurt, but there was still no sign of the ruby. When his heaves started to lessen, Crackle shoved a small bottle into Neal's hands.

"Try again."

"Ugh." Neal complained miserably. "Can I get a time out from the Ipecac? We've been doing this for two hours."

"Try **again**." Crackle ordered firmly.

Letting out a groan, Neal took another dose of the foul medicine, his stomach instantly lurching in response. Neal's stomach and chest were in agony from being forced to vomit for over two hours straight, and he was pretty sure this was one of the worst days of his life. When he had finally stopped lurching after twenty minutes or so, he slumped to the floor with a moan of complaint.

"It's bloody beached as, wombat. No use."

Crackle was not looking happy and he glanced to the bottle of Ipecac knowing that Neal had already taken way more than the recommended dose. Not wanting to poison him, he knew he'd have to think of a different solution.

"When we land, you're going to try castor oil." he told him.

Neal looked up at him in complete despair.

"This isn't going to work." Dash pointed out from where he stood as far away from the vomiting as he could get. "The ruby is the size of a golfball. It's not going up, it's not going down. How he even managed to swallow it is beyond me."

"It's worth a shot." Crackle replied.

"Well, if it's all the same to you, I'd rather **not** have volcano butt." Neal put in.

"It's not up to **you**." Crackle responded, expression frustrated.

Paper Star gave Crackle a sweet looking smile and slowly approached. "I know a way we can get it." she suggested, a paper knife forming in her hands. "I'll have it for you in just a few seconds."

Neal stared over at her with nervous eyes. "Er...no thanks, love. Crackle's got it covered, right mate?"

Crackle stared at the paper knife and seemed a bit too thoughtful for Neal's liking and so he reached up and gave a tug to Crackle's sleeve to get his attention.

"On second thought...the castor oil isn't sounding too bad..."

Crackle didn't answer him and seemed to be thinking intently about something, and Neal began to seriously hope Crackle wouldn't take Paper Star up on her offer. Brushing his hair out of his eyes, he had to concede defeat that he wasn't able to throw the ruby up. That left very few other options, and he flopped down next to the garbage can, wondering what Crackle's next move would be. Crackle frowned down at him and then let out a sigh, knowing the villain needed a break.

"I'll be right back. I have to speak with the pilot and make a few calls."

Crackle left the cabin, and Neal wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, glad it looked like he was done with the disgusting Ipecac. Seeing he was covered in his own vomit, he reached over and grabbed his dufflebag to look for a change of clothes. Unzipping his slick suit, he pulled it off, leaving him in just his underwear and an undershirt.

"No one wants to see that, Neal." Dash informed him in disgust.

Neal stuck his tongue out at him and began digging around in the bag, looking for something he could wear. Popping a piece of gum in his mouth to get rid of the foul taste in his mouth, he pulled a shirt out of the bag. He definitely wasn't expecting to suddenly be pounced on and pinned to the floor by his throat. Looking up in shock, he saw Paper Star was sitting on top of him, paper knife at the ready.

"What are you doing?!" Neal demanded in surprise.

She pulled his shirt up revealing his bare stomach and then laid her hand there, her expression innocent and serene. "The ruby is located about here, right?" she asked.

Neal struggled against her. "Oh, ha ha Paper Star, very funny." he said sarcastically. "Now get off me before you make me puke again!"

The paper knife was suddenly against his skin and Neal went very, very still. "Er, love? Joke's over. It's really not funny."

"We need the ruby to complete our mission and the only thing stopping us is a few inches of skin." she replied as if it were obvious. "I am not failing because of you. You are wasting our time."

"You can't just cut him open!" Theodore said angrily.

"Don't get involved." Roosevelt whispered, nudging him. "She's crazy."

Theodore glared at his brother and shook his head. "It's not right!"

Dash said nothing at all. As much as he hated Neal, he didn't really want to see him sliced open in front of him, but he certainly wasn't challenging Paper Star. She had a reputation, and knew she would have no qualms about turning on him as well.

"I'm just doing what **you're** all too cowardly to do." Paper Star answered with a shrug. "You were all thinking it, don't even try to deny it."

Neal winced as he felt the sharp edge of the knife press down on his skin. "Look, let's just have a talk about this, yes?" he suggested, trying his luck and smiling up at her. "No one wants anyone to get hurt, right?"

Paper Star smiled in return, but it chilled him to his very bone and he gulped in terror. That was not a nice smile at all. She really **was** going to kill him.

"Crackle didn't say to cut him open." Dash pointed out hesitantly.

"He's probably getting authorization from V.I.L.E right now." she replied with a shrug. "I'm just saving us a bit of time."

"Oy, wombat!" Neal bellowed out. "Help!"

Paper Star tightened her hold on his throat, cutting off any other attempts to speak. Just as she began to press down on the knife Theodore charged at her swinging one of his massive fists straight at her head. Paper Star leapt back away from him, and Neal scrambled away from her, hand going to his bleeding stomach. Theodore stepped in front of him protectively, and Paper Star cocked her head at him for a moment before her hands created a few throwing stars. Theodore ran at her and she reacted swiftly by throwing a star straight at his face. He punched it aside and then grunted in pain as his hand was badly cut. Not letting that slow him down, he continued straight at her like a charging bull. Paper Star was incredibly fast and she easily dodged his attack and retaliated by throwing two more stars. Theodore managed to side-step the first one, but the second stabbed deeply into his shoulder, causing him to let out a roar of pain.

Paper Star smirked at him and then raised her hand to throw another star, knowing this would be the one that would get his throat. Just as she raised her hand, she let out a shriek as she was tased from behind. She fell to the floor of the plane and Crackle stared down at her in fury and then tased her a second time. He glanced around the cabin and saw the wound on Neal's stomach and had a pretty good idea what had happened. Face contorting in fury, he turned the setting of his Crackle rod up and then gave Paper Star such a powerful shock she let out a scream of pain and then fell unconscious. Crackle stared down at her for a few seconds and then turned his attention to the rest of his team.

"Neal, put some pants on." he ordered. "And Theodore, get those wounds seen to. There's a first aid kit under one of the seats."

Crackle then turned his gaze to Dash. "What happened?"

"Paper Star tried to slice Neal open and Theodore stopped her." Dash replied. "I was just about to help when you showed up."

"You were not, you coward!" Neal protested. "You were too busy pissing yourself!"

"Shut up, Neal." Crackle ordered, turning his gaze to Roosevelt. "Is all this true?"

Roosevelt nodded silently, his eyes on his brother in concern.

Crackle's expression was furious, but he reined in his fury and then said. "There will be **no** fighting among team members. Ever. If I decide someone has to be punished or sliced open, then it is my decision to make and not yours. The next person who tries to go against orders will be getting **severely** punished."

"What about her?" Neal demanded. "She tried to kill me!"

"I will deal with her once she wakes up." Crackle promised. "Now put on some pants."

Neal glanced down at his stomach and wiped some of the blood away, still shook up. He turned to Theodore who was fumbling to open the first aid kit and took it from him. He clicked it open and then ushered Theodore to sit down.

"Thanks, big guy." he said. "I really owe you one."

"It's okay." Theodore answered. "We're a team and I couldn't let her hurt you. You're such a scrawny little thing that it wasn't fair she attacked you!"

Neal wasn't sure whether to feel insulted or not, and gave him a nod. "Well, thanks, Teddy, I appreciate it."

Neal carefully cleaned the wound on Theodore's shoulder, and when he removed the throwing star, the other man barely flinched. Luckily there was no need for stitches and so he simply bandaged the wound and then began cleaning the cuts on Theodore's hand. After he had patched Theodore up, he lifted his shirt to see what the damage from Paper Star was. The skin was barely broken and so he simply disinfected the area and then packed the first aid kit back up. Crackle was busy moving Paper Star to one of the seats, and Neal noted that her hands were bound. Crackle glanced up at him and then narrowed his eyes.

"Neal."

"What?"

"Pants."

"Yeah, yeah." Neal replied, putting the first aid kit away. "What if Paper Star tries to kill me again once she wakes up? That girl has a screw loose."

"She nearly killed Le Chèvre when she was paired up with him on a mission." Dash commented. "She's well known to be unstable."

Neal turned to him in surprise. "Straight up?"

Crackle let out a sigh of irritation. "NEAL!"

"What?"

**"Pants. NOW**."

"Okay, okay, geez."

Neal grabbed a change of clothes out of his bag and then dressed, wondering what Paper Star's reaction was going to be when she woke. He doubted it was going to be pretty. If she was willing to murder one of her own teammates when she **wasn't** mad, there was no saying what she'd do when she was. Neal laid a hand on his stomach and then shot a nervous glance at Crackle. How was their leader planning on getting the ruby?

"Er, Crackle?" he called over.

Crackle looked up from tying Paper Star to the chair. "Yes?"

"What did you need to call V.I.L.E for?" he asked.

"I didn't call V.I.L.E." Crackle replied, going back to what he was doing.

Neal frowned. "Then who did you call?"

"A back alley doctor that works with V.I.L.E." he replied. "Luckily there was already a trusted one in the United States."

Neal's eyes widened. "So you **are** going to cut it out of me?!"

"That will be for the doctor to decide." he replied. "She's going to meet us in Dallas in five hours."

Neal didn't like the idea of some illegal doctor slicing him open and placed a hand on his stomach protectively. "Er...you're not going to let her kill me, are you?"

"No." Crackle answered earnestly. "You are part of my team and you have my loyalty the same way I expect yours. I won't let anything happen to you."

That actually made Neal feel a little better and he gave him a nod. "Chur, captain."

Dash frowned at him. "You've used that word before. What does it mean?"

Neal gave him a smile. "It means 'I indubitably believe what you are saying, my good Sir, and the feeling is mutual.'"

Dash scowled at him. "It does **not** mean that."

Neal shrugged. "Whatever you say, love."

Dash narrowed his eyes and turned to Crackle. "What does 'chur' mean?" he demanded.

"More or less what Neal said." Crackle said distractedly. "But with fewer words."

Dash let out a sigh, still skeptical but letting the issue drop.

Neal approached his dufflebag and a moment later pulled out a bag of Doritos and a deck of cards. "Teddy, you fancy a game of cards?"

Theodore seemed surprised by the offer but nodded. "Yeah, okay."

Neal settled himself on the seat beside Theodore and then opened the Doritos, catching Crackle's attention.

"What's that?" he demanded.

"Doritos." Neal responded, holding out the bag. "Want one?"

Crackle frowned at him. "You can't eat anything in case you're getting surgery when we arrive. Your stomach needs to be empty."

Neal simply stared at him. "Oh, come on, I've been puking for hours and I'm starving."

"Sorry, Neal, no food." Crackle responded. "Drink water instead."

Neal let out an over-dramatic sigh and then held the bag out towards Theodore. "You want my bag of crisps, Teddy?"

Theodore squinted at the bag with a frown. "Those are chips." he pointed out.

"We call them crisps in New Zealand." Neal explained, shuffling the cards. "Same thing though."

"Yeah, okay." Theodore said, taking the bag. "What game are we playing?"

"Do you know how to play War?"

"No."

"Rummy?"

"No."

"Double Solitaire?"

"No."

"Spit?"

"No."

"...Old Maid?"

"No."

"Okay, well, what card games **do** you know?"

"Poker."

"Just poker?" Neal asked with a frown.

"Yeah, Roosevelt and I play it all the time. I like making matches."

Neal squinted at him. "Matches?" he repeated.

Theodore nodded. "Yeah, don't you know how to play? Someone calls out a card and if you have it, you have to give it to them. If you don't have it, you say Poker and then have to fight. I **always** win."

Neal stared at him for a long moment and then said. "How about if I just show you how to play Rummy. I think it would be safer for everyone that way..."

"Okay." Theodore said with a shrug. "I'm good at card games."

Neal glanced over at Dash. "Hey Fancy-pants, you want to join in?" he asked.

Dash let out a disdainful snort. "Not on your life." he said, opening a magazine.

"I'll play." Roosevelt said, sitting opposite them.

To Neal's surprise, Crackle took a seat as well. "We have a few hours for leisure before we reach Dallas, and so I'll join you as well."

"Alright then." Neal said, shuffling the cards. "The more the merrier."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Paper Star let out a low groan, her head absolutely throbbing. Slowly opening her eyes, she saw Crackle sitting in front of her, Crackle Rod in hand. She immediately went to jerk away from him, but quickly realized she was tied to the seat. Fingers going for her paper stash, she found the pouch empty.

"We need to talk." Crackle said, eyes narrowed to slits.

Paper Star glanced all around and saw her teammates watching warily from the other side of the plane. Turning her attention back to Crackle, she remembered what had knocked her out, and glanced down at the Crackle Rod.

"You attacked me." she stated accusingly.

"I did." Crackle confirmed. "After **you** tried to kill your teammates."

"Only **one** teammate." she responded with a shrug. "I was only going to kill the other one in self-defense."

Crackle furrowed his brow, surprised she wasn't even trying to deny it. "What makes you think you have the right to kill one of **my** crew without permission?" Crackle demanded. "I didn't authorize it, therefore you challenged my authority. V.I.L.E sees this as treason, and I have every right to kill you for it. Give me one good reason I shouldn't end you right now."

This honestly surprised Paper Star but she felt certain he was bluffing, and she rolled her eyes. Scoffing, she looked up and met his gaze directly. His eyes were hard and devoid of any hint of emotion, and she instantly knew he meant it. His eyes were identical to the ones that met her every time she looked in the mirror. They were the eyes of a monster. Paper Star stiffened as she suddenly realized how much trouble she was in. She subtly tested the tightness of the ropes, and knew she wouldn't be able to escape. If Crackle wanted to kill her, there was nothing she could do about it.

Crackle stared at her in silence for a moment and noted the fear that flashed across her face as she realized he was serious. He held up the Crackle Rod and her eyes followed it as he pressed it against her temple.

"Do I have your attention?" he asked.

Paper Star silently nodded.

"Good. I am only going to give you this **one** warning, because the next time you won't be waking up after I shock you. **Never** act out on your own and **never** betray your teammates. In fact, you kill **no one** without my permission, is this clear?"

Paper Star stared up at him with wide eyes, not used to being subjugated to anyone else's will. Crackle narrowed his eyes and then turned on the Crackle Rod just enough for her to feel a shock, but not enough to hurt.

"**Is**. **This**. **Clear**?" he repeated, finger hovering over the rod's dial.

Paper Star gave a mute nod.

Crackle removed the rod from her temple, and leaned back in his chair. "Good." he said. "Perhaps you're thinking of getting revenge against me, but you can just go ahead and forget that idea. Maybe you could win against me in a fight, perhaps you could kill me in my sleep, but it would be suicide to do so. V.I.L.E would label you a traitor and they would come for you. How forgiving do you think they'll be to a traitor after what the others did? What do you think they'll do to you once they catch you?"

Paper Star glared at him, but knew he had a point. As much as she would love to stab something through Crackle's eyes, she couldn't risk V.I.L.E turning on her. She didn't want to die, and she didn't want to leave V.I.L.E. That meant she had no choice but to bite her pride and accept defeat.

"I won't make this mistake again." she promised him. "You are in charge, and I will obey your orders."

Crackle eyed her for a moment, and then nodded. "Alright, I believe you, and I'll untie you now."

Paper Star watched him warily as he untied her and then the moment she was free, she rubbed at her wrists, wondering how long she'd been bound for. When she looked over at the others, she saw the wary looks they were shooting her, and felt a bit pleased. At least they knew who they were dealing with and probably wouldn't try to get in her way. Getting up and moving to a seat far from everyone else, she grabbed the nearby magazine and began carefully removing the pages. Dash frowned in her direction but didn't comment, knowing a $5 magazine wasn't worth causing problems with her.

"We land in two hours." Crackle informed everyone. "We meet with the doctor as soon as she contacts us, and hopefully we'll have the ruby by tonight."

"Yay." Neal muttered to himself.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The hot Texas heat hit them the second they stepped off the plane, and Neal smiled brightly.

"Feels good." he commented. "I hate being cold."

Even though it was after 9pm, it was still boiling hot and sunny outside.

"You mostly work out of New Zealand, right?" Dash asked.

"Yeah."

"New Zealand is a pretty hot country, right?"

Neal nodded. "Well, in some places, why?"

"I'm just trying to figure out how someone who lives and works in a hot country can possibly be as pasty as you. Your skin is practically transparent."

Neal glanced down at his bare arm and then gave a shrug. "Don't really get outside much during the day." he replied. "Life of a thief and all that."

Dash glanced up at the cloudless sky. "You are going to burn." he commented, walking away. "It's going to be glorious."

Neal rolled his eyes and followed after him. Giving another glance to his arms, he wondered if he should have worn long sleeves...

V.I.L.E had rented a large black van for them, and as they all piled inside, Crackle got into the passenger seat to allow Roosevelt to drive. "A room has been booked for us at the Starshine Motel." he informed him. "I'll input the address into the GPS."

Dash leaned forward so he was in Crackle's field of vision. "Sorry, but did you say '**room**'."

Crackle nodded. "Yes."

"Room, as in we have to all share **one** room?"

Crackle raised an eyebrow, "Yes."

"You expect all six of us to stay in **one** hotel room?"

"Motel, love." Neal corrected. "Hotels are fancier."

"We only need somewhere to sleep and one room is sufficient." Crackle replied.

"There's six of us!"

"I am keeping this team within my sight at all times." Crackle said, turning to look back at them. "If we have to move out fast, I don't want to have to go hunting for you."

"Then book us adjoining rooms!" Dash protested.

"One room is all we need." Crackle said firmly. "We're to keep a low profile and booking six adjoining rooms would draw too much attention. I'm not taking any chances."

"And you don't think piling six people in ONE room won't draw any attention?!"

Crackle narrowed his eyes. "I suggest you stop arguing before you get yourself in trouble." he warned.

Dash looked mutinous, but he wisely fell silent.

As they drove along the highway, Crackle tried making a few calls, frowning when they weren't answered. The motel was close to the airport and just a few minutes later, they were pulling into the parking lot of the most run-down looking motel they'd ever seen. The building looked like it was falling down, the paint old and chipped, and the neon motel sign simply said 'mo' as the other letters had burnt out long ago.

Neal stared at the dead pigeon floating in the nearby pool and then glanced over at Crackle. "Er...V.I.L.E having money issues?" he asked.

"This location was chosen by the doctor because it's out of sight of the main road, and the rooms are very private."

"This is definitely a murder motel." Neal stated with a nod. "No doubt, we're all going to die tonight."

"I am **not** staying here." Dash said, crossing his arms across his chest. "Who knows what I'd catch!"

"Do you think it's haunted?" Theodore asked his brother worriedly.

Roosevelt didn't answer, too busy frowning at the motel in horror.

"Enough complaining." Crackle said impatiently. "We're not going to be here for very long. As long as the room has beds, that's all we need."

"I bet a third of the mattresses' weight are bedbugs." Neal commented, opening the van door.

Dash looked ready to have an aneurysm, bedbugs not even crossing his mind until that moment. Everyone got out of the van, but he stubbornly remaining in his seat, shaking his head.

Crackle waited a moment and then leaned into the van, looking annoyed. "Come on." he ordered.

"I'll sleep in the van."

"No, you're staying with the rest of us." Crackle said, reaching over and unbuckling his seatbelt. "Get out of the van."

"These clothes are Gucci." he argued, pointing at his suit. "Just being in this parking lot is detracting from their value."

"Out of the van. Now." Crackle ordered, clearly starting to get annoyed.

"The only way you're getting me in that roach-motel is if you drag my corpse in, because I am **not** going in there."

Crackle let out a deep sigh and then pulled out the Crackle Rod. He turned it on and Dash's eyes widened, knowing he was about to be tased again. Without a word, Crackle went to jab Dash in the ribs with it, but at the last moment, Dash threw open the van door on the other side and scrambled out, narrowly avoiding the shock. Crackle rounded the side of the vehicle and Dash backed away from him, hands held up in a placating gesture. Crackle was clearly angry and he jabbed at him again, but Dash leapt back, once again avoiding the weapon.

"This is ridiculous! You can't just tase me every time I disagree with you!"

"I'm not punishing you for disagreeing with me, I'm punishing you for disrespecting my authority." Crackle replied, swinging out at him again.

Dash backed up another few steps. "I'm sorry, okay! I'm sorry! I just really **really** don't want to go in there!"

"Tough. You do as you're told, and you don't argue." Crackle said, once again jabbing at him. "You are going in that motel whether you walk or whether I have to drag you there."

"Fine! I'll go!" Dash cried, knowing it was only a matter of time before the weapon made contact with him. "Don't tase me again, I'll go! I'll go!"

Crackle pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at Dash, clearly debating on what to do. He deserved a shock for the disrespect, but he also knew they were making a spectacle of themselves in the middle of the parking lot. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw an overweight balding man watching them from the doorway of the reception office. Pocketing the Crackle Rod, he glared at Dash and then pointed towards reception.

"Inside now, and you'd better watch your tone. Any more arguing and you **will** be punished. Get your bag out of the van."

Dash looked like he wanted to say something, but he instead just bit his tongue and turned to do as he was told. The overweight man watching them stepped aside as they approached the reception office, and to no one's surprise he was the owner. He looked them up and down in vague curiosity and his gaze lingered on Paper Star for an uncomfortably long time before he finally spoke.

"Rooms are $5 an hour."

Dash looked like he was in physical pain, but still remained silent.

"I have a reservation under Graham." Crackle stated, glancing around the cluttered and dirty office.

The man seemed surprised. "Right. I saw it in the books and was wondering about that. We don't get very many overnight guests these days."

"I bet." Dash muttered.

"How many rooms did you want?"

"Just the one." Crackle replied. "We asked for the room on the far end of the motel."

Once again the man's eyes were on Paper Star, and she narrowed her eyes at him in return, and he glanced back at Crackle.

"Whatever floats your boat, pal." the man replied, reaching for a room key. "That's $17. Payment is due up front."

Crackle reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. Digging through it until he found some American money, he handed over a twenty.

"I don't have any change." the man told him with a shrug. "But you can feel free to grab a couple of those Pepsi over there."

Everyone glanced over and saw a crate of 2L Pepsi just sitting on the counter, and Roosevelt instantly reached out and grabbed four bottles. There was no paperwork and no I.D asked for and the man handed Crackle the key to their room.

"Enjoy. Check-out is at ten." he said. "And just to let you know, the A.C is broken."

"Of course it is." Dash grumbled.

As they left the reception office, Dash looked absolutely furious. "We're staying in a $17 a night motel."

Neal clapped him on the shoulder. "We sure are."

Dash glared at him and then let out a sigh of resignation and followed without further complaint. Neal was obviously in the mood to annoy, because he jumped up onto Theodore's back, the other man pausing in surprise.

"Hi, Teddy." Neal said, resting his chin on Theodore's shoulder.

"What are you doing?" Theodore demanded in confusion. "Get off!"

"Why?" Neal asked. "Am I too heavy for you?"

Theodore scowled. "Of course not! You barely weigh anything at all!"

Neal grinned at him and Theodore let out a sigh and continued walking, ignoring the villain clinging to his back. Their room was as remote as possible in the motel, and Crackle gave a glance around, satisfied that they would have complete privacy. Unlocking the door, he opened it and entered, everyone else making their way in more cautiously. It was actually better than expected, and seemed to be relatively clean.

"Wait!" Dash cried, pushing past the others. "No one touch anything yet!"

Pressing a button on his hat to lower a lens, he entered and began looking around. He carefully pulled aside the blankets on the beds and then looked at the bare mattress. Finally he looked at the carpets.

"Okay, we're safe." he replied, the lens disappearing back into his hat. "The room is bedbug free."

"So, when is the doctor going to meet us?" Neal asked, still clinging to Theodore. "I am absolutely starving."

"I can't seem to reach her phone." Crackle replied. "Her plane might still be in the air if it got delayed."

Neal let out a groan.

"Well, the rest of us don't have to starve, do we?" Roosevelt asked in a worried tone. "I'm hungry too."

"Yeah, me too." Theodore agreed.

There was a general murmuring of agreement from everyone, and Crackle gave them a nod. He glanced at his watch and frowned at it, wondering how long the doctor would be. Knowing he couldn't very well starve his whole crew while waiting for her, he sighed. "I'm going to go grab us supper at the nearest restaurant and check in with V.I.L.E." Crackle told them. "The only food allergy is strawberries, right?"

Dash stared at him in surprise, wondering how he knew that. "Yeah."

Crackle gave him a nod. "None of you are to leave this room for **any** reason. I am going to be monitoring your trackers and if a single one of you steps a toe outside of this motel, the whole lot of you will pay the price."

He received a few nods, and Crackle hesitantly turned towards the door. "Don't betray my trust."

Neal gave him a grin. "Don't worry so much, wombat. I'm sure we'll survive half an hour without you."

Crackle gave them one last warning look and then left the room without another word.

"Thank god." Neal said, letting out a deep breath.

Theodore glanced over his shoulder at Neal. "I was wondering something, Neal."

"Yeah?" Neal questioned.

"How can you fit inside such tiny places like vents and stuff? Haven't you ever gotten stuck before?"

"Yeah, once." Neal replied with a frown. "When I was in training, I nearly died inside one of the vents on campus. Wasn't exactly a fun time. I was a stupid eighteen year old kid and took a risk I shouldn't have. That was before I invented my slick suit. Haven't had a problem like that since. I'm pretty good at judging what spaces I can fit through."

Neal let go of Theodore's back and dropped down to the floor.

"How did you get out?" Theodore asked in curiosity.

"An itty bitty lamb helped me out." he replied, giving a lazy stretch.

A knock came at the door and everyone glanced over in surprise.

"Did he forget his key?" Neal asked, reaching out and opening the door.

It was the motel owner, and he gave Neal an uneasy smile. "Er, hi." he said.

Neal raised an eyebrow. "Hi."

The man tried to peer around him into the room, but Neal stepped in front of him, blocking his gaze.

"Can I help you?"

The man smoothed down his greasy mustache and then gave him what was probably supposed to be a charming smile. "Yes, I was wondering if I could please speak to the pretty little lady of your group?"

Neal gave him a nod.

"Dash, the door's for you!" Neal called back into the room.

"Very funny." Dash snapped, glaring over at him.

Paper Star approached the door and Neal gave the man a pitying look before he backed off and let the two of them talk.

"Um, I was just wondering if you'd like to come over to my room once you're done with all these gents? I have a crisp twenty dollar bill with your name on it."

Everyone stared with wide eyes, the room seeming to freeze. Neal took a seat on one of the beds, simply waiting for the shitstorm to start.

"A whole twenty dollars?" Paper Star asked with wide eyes. "All for me?"

"I'm quite wealthy in these parts, and I only offer the ladies the best." he replied proudly.

Paper Star cocked her head to one side. "It is a very tempting offer." she stated, nails digging into the door frame deeply. "Tell me, are you the only one here at the motel right now?"

"No, my wife is in the main office right now, but she'll be gone soon. Knock on the office door later tonight when you're done with these guys, and that twenty dollars is all yours."

Paper Star raised a finger to her chin as if considering it, and the man looked hopeful as he smiled at her. Paper Star twirled a throwing star in one hand out of his sight as if struggling with some internal battle. She then promptly slammed the door in his face and turned away, expression absolutely foul. Everyone stared at her in surprise, the lack of bloodshed completely unexpected. Maybe Crackle really did succeed in intimidating her?

"Missed opportunity, Dash, you could have earned twenty dollars."

Neal ducked as an alarm clock was promptly whipped at his head.

"I am sick of your comments!" Dash snapped. "Next time I won't miss."

Neal wasn't overly concerned and got down on his hands and knees to pull the clock out from under the bed.

"Hey, look Dash, something was left behind from the previous guests just for you."

Neal held up a single pink sock and Dash visibly recoiled at the sight of it. "You're touching it with your bare hands!" he cried out in horror. "Get rid of it!"

"Are you sure you don't want it?" Neal asked, reeling his arm back as if he was going to throw it.

Dash fled backwards. "Throw that at me and I swear I will slit your throat in your sleep!"

Neal grinned at him, but he had no opportunity to consider it, because Theodore snatched the sock out of his hand and tossed it out the door.

"Stop bullying Dash." Theodore scolded. "You're being mean."

"Et tu, Teddy? Et tu?" Neal answered with a sigh.

"I don't speak Chinese. Just knock it off."

"Ok, fine." Neal relented. "But only because you're my favourite twin."

Theodore seemed a little confused by this, but nodded.

Neal glanced around the small room and immediately saw a problem. "There's only two beds."

"I think this is a pull-out bed." Roosevelt said pointing to the couch.

"Okay, three beds then. Who's going to pair with who for the night?"

Neal and Dash glared at each other, both realizing at the same time one of them would have to share with Paper Star.

"Who sleeps with you?" Neal asked him.

"I don't know, but I'm not sharing with **you**, that's for sure." Dash replied. "Your grease would probably soak into the mattress."

Neal let out a snort. "I think Paper Star should choose who she wants to share with, since she's the only girl."

They shot Paper Star a nervous glance and she turned to glance over at them.

"I choose the gay one." she answered, not bothering to learn anyone's names.

Instantly everyone glanced over at Dash.

"She could have meant anyone!" Dash said defensively.

"Oh, sweetheart, no." Neal said with a shake of his head.

"I never told you I'm gay." Dash snapped. "You don't know for sure."

Neal smiled at him. "Helen Keller would know you were gay, love."

Dash had been a ball of anger and anxiety for the entire day, and finally he lost control of his tempter. Striding forward, he punched Neal as hard as he could in the face, taking him completely by surprise. Clutching his bloody nose, Neal stared up at Dash in shock and then his eyes narrowed. He kicked Dash's legs out from under him, and was on top of him in an instant, driving his fist into his face. Dash's inner ghetto was unleashed and he fought back just as hard, his well-practiced accent slipping back into his old New York one as he swore at the other man in an absolute rage. They pounded on each other with everything they had until they were suddenly yanked apart by the twins. They were dragged to opposite sides of the room, both still struggling and fighting to get away.

"Knock it off!" Theodore ordered, giving Neal a hard shake.

Neal took a deep breath as he stilled, and watched as Roosevelt did the same thing with Dash.

"No more fighting or I'll pound the both of ya!" Theodore threatened. "What do you think Crackle would say if he saw you two fighting?"

Dash averted his eyes, going sullen, and Neal crossed his arms. They were both dangling several inches above the carpet, the twins using their full seven feet of height to their advantage.

"Okay." Neal acknowledged. "Put me down."

"Apologize to Dash."

Neal gave him a look like he was crazy and Theodore gave him another hard shake. "Apologize."

Neal turned his gaze to Dash who was still glaring at him. "Sorry."

"For what?" Theodore prompted and Neal glared up at him.

"I'm sorry I teased you." Neal said with a frown. "I went too far."

Theodore nodded, and then Roosevelt gave Dash a shake. "Your turn." he ordered.

Dash crossed his arms. "I have nothing to apologize for. He deserved it for being a massive twit all day."

Roosevelt gave him another shake and Dash winced. "Okay **fine**." he snarled. "I'm sorry I hit you. There, happy now?"

The twins exchanged a look with one another and then tossed Dash on one bed, and Neal on the other. Neal and Dash exchanged a look with one another and then pointedly looked away, both reaching for a tissue to wipe the blood from their faces. They both remaining sulking on their beds until Crackle returned half an hour later, carrying a pizza.

Crackle took one look at his team and then frowned. Neal and Dash both had a black eye, Dash had a split lip and Neal had a scratch on his cheek. They were holding bloody tissues to their noses and were looking rather subdued. "Were you two fighting?" he demanded, angrily.

Neal and Dash exchanged another look with one another.

"No." they both answered at the same time.

Crackle narrowed his eyes at them, but whatever the problem was seemed to be resolved, and so he chose to ignore it. Placing the pizza box on the end of one of the beds, he handed Neal a styrofoam container.

"What's this?" Neal asked, accepting it in confusion.

"Chicken noodle soup minus the chicken and minus the noodles." he replied.

"So...broth?"

Crackle nodded. "You can have clear fluids, but no food."

Neal opened the container and gave a sniff to the broth. "Did you hear from the doctor yet?"

"Her plane got delayed and she isn't getting to Dallas until late. She's going to meet us tomorrow morning at six."

"So, I have to keep starving until tomorrow?" Neal asked with a sigh.

"One day of a liquid diet isn't going to hurt you." Crackle responded.

Neal knew he was right, but he didn't have to like it. As everyone grabbed a plate and went for the pizza, he let out a sigh, and took a sip of the broth. It was pretty generic tasting and far too salty, but he was hungry and so he downed the container in just a few moments. Dash wasn't pleased with the low quality meal, but he knew better than to complain, and so he took a slice of the questionable pizza and carried it back to his bed. Pulling hand sanitizer out of his jacket pocket, he disinfected his hands and then picked up the slice.

"You may have missed a germ." Neal pointed out.

Dash's response was to simply smile and take a big bite of the pizza. "Mmm." he commented. "So good."

Neal glared at him and then looked over at Crackle. "So, are we staying here until tomorrow?"

Crackle gave him a nod as he took a bite of his own slice of pizza.

"Okay, good, I'm going to go take a shower then, so I don't have to smell your food."

"Mark the occasion on a calendar." Dash muttered.

Pretending he didn't hear, Neal grabbed a change of clothes and his bag of toiletries and headed for the bathroom. He was in there for over an hour, and when he finally came out, he was dressed for bed, his hair still wet from the shower.

"Your hair is clean!" Dash exclaimed, genuinely surprised.

"It's the suit that makes my hair oily." Neal replied, setting something down on the bedside table. "Every time I wear it, my hair ends up plastered to my head."

Dash squinted at the tiny piece of plastic on the table. "What's that?" he demanded.

"My contacts case." Neal responded, slipping into his bed. "Why?"

"You wear contacts?!"

Neal simply stared at him. "Well, yeah, glasses would get in the way."

"How did you pass your physical examination with bad eyesight?!" Dash asked. "There's a reason you don't see anyone with glasses at V.I.L.E!"

"I slipped through the cracks." Neal responded with a shrug. "I'm good at doing that. Besides I think Otterman wears glasses."

"Only after his accident with one of Dr. Bellum's lasers." Crackle chipped in. "She told me about that. He nearly went blind."

"What about Lady Dokuso? I think she wears glasses." Paper Star said, glancing up from her origami.

Dash shook his head. "No, she only wears them to be stylish. Her eyesight is fine, it's just coloured glass. I'm the one who had to order those for her."

"Roundabout." Neal said. "He has glasses."

Dash crinkled his nose. "Yes, but he's old. That's different."

"I've been with V.I.L.E for 14 years, and I really doubt they're going to say anything now." Neal pointed out.

"Do you own glasses?" Dash asked curiously.

"Yes, why?"

"Do you have them with you?"

Neal raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

Dash sat up earnestly. "I want to see you in glasses. Put them on."

Neal let out a snort. "Not happening, love. I only keep them for emergencies, and for when I'm off mission."

"I bet they make you look even dorkier." Dash commented.

"Going to sleep now, Dash." Neal responded with a roll of his eyes. "Ignoring all further pokes at my appearance."

"It's only like 11." Dash pointed out.

"Tired from puking out my liver all afternoon." Neal responded.

"I'm tired as well." Crackle said. "We have to be awake and ready by six tomorrow, and so I'm setting the alarm for 4:30. I don't care if you stay awake, but keep the light dimmed and keep quiet."

Crackle saw everyone had already claimed their spots for the night, and so he dimmed the lights, undressed and then crawled into bed beside Neal. The others spoke quietly amongst themselves, but it was at an acceptable level, and so Crackle closed his eyes, simply enjoying the feeling of having a mattress under him. He didn't get a mattress when he was with Dr. Bellum, most of the time having to sleep on the floor or if he was lucky on a bench. Although the springs in the mattress poked him in the back, he quickly found himself drifting off, this being the most comfortable he could ever remember being.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

At 6:00am on the dot, a knock came at the door, and Crackle opened it, letting the doctor in. The doctor was a squat middle-aged woman with sharp eyes, grey hair cut in a bob, and an angry mouth that was frowning at him. She looked Crackle up and down and seemed to be assessing him.

"You are Crackle?" she demanded.

"Yes." Crackle answered.

"You're much younger than I was expecting." she stated glancing around the room at the other five occupants. "Who is my patient?"

Neal raised his hand, and she approached him, eyeing him him a frown. "Well, he's looking a bit pale, but I'm not seeing any blood. What seems to be the problem with him?"

"You weren't informed of the situation?" Crackle asked angrily.

"I was told that the patient was a male, and that he may require surgery. Other than that, the details were kept private."

Crackle gave her a nod. "He's swallowed a foreign object and it's too big to throw up or pass through the digestive tract. We need you to remove it."

"How big is this object?" she asked, giving Neal a considering look.

"About the size of a golfball." Neal answered.

"How in the world-" the doctor began, but then she shook her head, deciding it didn't matter. "Is the object dense or hollow?"

"Very dense." Crackle replied. "It's a rock."

"Why did you-" again she shook her head, and simply sighed. "Very well. Without being able to see where the rock is located, I'll have no choice but to perform surgery."

"Isn't there any other way?" Neal pleaded.

"If I could see an x-ray of the rock, I might be able to do an endoscopic removal, but I can't go in blind."

"Dash, show her the rock using your hat's lenses." Crackle ordered.

Dash nodded and then pressed a button on his hat. Removing his hat, held held it in front of Neal's stomach and it acted like an x-ray, clearly showing the ruby's location.

"Oh, this is an excellent piece of technology." the doctor praised. "I don't suppose you'd consider selling it to me, would you?"

"No." Dash answered. "It's my own invention and it's not for sale."

The doctor didn't press the matter and simply nodded. "I believe I can get the foreign body out without the need for surgery."

"What is the recovery time?" Crackle asked, hoping they wouldn't end up delayed from their mission.

"An hour or so." she answered with a shrug. "He'll have one heck of a sore throat though."

Crackle immediately nodded. "Do it." he ordered. "What do you need us to do?"

"I will need to borrow this hat for the procedure, and I'll need the patient to lay down on the bed."

Dash winced at the thought of someone else wearing his hat, but knew he'd have no choice in it. He'd just have to disinfect the hat once she was done with it.

"Weight?" the doctor demanded.

"Er, around hundred and thirty, I guess?" Neal answered.

She gave him a nod and then began removing equipment from her medical bag. "You'll be asleep for this procedure." she told him. "It will only take me seconds to remove the object, but you'll be asleep for around twenty minutes. Your throat will be sore when you wake, and this is normal."

Neal gave a nod, just glad he wasn't going to be cut open. The doctor disinfected a spot on his arm, and then removed a bottle and syringe from her bag. She carefully measured out the correct dose and then approached with the needle.

"Just relax and take a deep breath." she ordered. "You're in good hands."

Neal winced when the needle was injected and within seconds, he felt the fog of sleep overtaking him. The doctor watched him for a moment and when she was sure he was out, she pulled a tube out of her bag.

"I need to inset the orotracheal intubation to protect his airways while I work. I need someone to tilt his head back and keep it there while I insert it."

Crackle did as she asked, and watched as she put on Dash's hat on so she could see what she was doing. She inserted the plastic tube down Neal's throat and when it was in place, she reached over and grabbed a long and very thin device that looked like a pair of pliers. Everyone cringed when she shoved it down his throat, and then she began shifting it about, clearly trying to get a grip on the ruby.

"Ah ha." she said after a few moments. "Got it. Now I just have to do this very slowly and carefully to minimize the damage to his throat as I extract it."

Everyone watched intently as she very, very slowly began to pull the device out, and several times she stopped to readjust it, as it was a very tight fit. Finally she pulled the ruby out of Neal's mouth, looking relieved and proud of herself. She glanced at the ruby and then dropped it into Crackle's waiting hand.

"I probably would have wanted that rock back too." she commented, packing up her belongings. "He'll be wanting icecream for that throat of his when he wakes. It will be sore and swollen for a couple days."

"We're lucky you were here in the country." Crackle commented. "Aren't you normally stationed in Europe?"

She nodded. "Yes, but I was hired by a private party to leave with them from Poitiers last week. They were in pretty rough shape."

Crackle's eyes widened. "How many people were there in the private party?"

She gave him an odd look. "Nine." she replied. "Why?"

Crackle pulled out his phone and typed for a moment. A second later, he held out a picture of Carmen towards her. "Was she one of the people on the plane?" he demanded.

The doctor eyed the picture for a moment and then crossed her arms. "How much is it worth to you?" she demanded.

Crackle met her gaze directly. "Name your price."

He could see the greed in her eyes and she nodded. "Give me the rock."

"What?" Dash cried, completely outraged. "No way!"

To everyone's surprise, Crackle handed it over without question.

"Crackle, you can't!" Dash protested. "V.I.L.E will go ballistic!"

"Quiet, Dash." Crackle ordered without looking at him.

Everyone was watching on in complete fury, and even Paper Star was clenching her fists as she fought not to react.

"You have the ruby and now answer all of my questions." Crackle ordered.

The doctor pocketed the gem and then nodded. "Yes, she was there. I removed a bullet from her side."

"I'm going to show you some pictures, and I want you to confirm if these people were on the plane."

Again she nodded.

Crackle showed her pictures of all the known members of Carmen's crew and the doctor confirmed each one.

"There were also two redheaded siblings." the doctor informed him. "They were around twenty years old, a boy and girl, and they had thick Boston accents. I believe I overheard that they're the getaway driver and mechanic of the group."

This was new to Crackle and he recognized it as valuable information. "Can you describe these siblings in detail?" he asked, grabbing a notepad.

The doctor gave him a shrug. "I honestly didn't pay too much attention to them. The boy had short red hair, blue eyes, freckles and was about six foot, maybe a little under. His sister had short red hair as well, blue eyes, freckles, and was about five five. Other than that, I have no idea."

Crackle nodded. "Where did the plane go?"

"San Diego." she replied.

"Did you overhear where they might be going from there?"

She shook her head. "No, they just kept referring to San Diego as home. I don't think they were going anywhere else."

Crackle's eyes widened. "Their base is in San Diego!" he exclaimed. "We know where they are!"

"Is that all?" the doctor demanded.

"How injured was her team?"

"Severely." she replied. "It will take weeks for them to fully recover. Most of them have stitches they need to wait for to heal."

Crackle nodded. If Carmen and her team were injured, this would be the perfect time to launch an attack against them. He needed to contact V.I.L.E immediately with the news.

"Am I free to go now?" the doctor asked, impatiently.

"Yes, you can go now." Crackle told her. "Thank you very much for your assistance this morning. You were a great help."

"I will be contacting V.I.L.E with my invoice." she informed him, turning towards the door. "You will need to arrange a plane for me at the Dallas airport because my next job is in Germany."

"It will be taken care of for you." Crackle assured her, turning his gaze to Paper Star. He gave her a very slow nod of the head and she gave him a smile.

"Goodbye, doctor."

"Yes, goodbye." she said, reaching for the door.

It was then that a throwing star stabbed into the back of her neck. The doctor stumbled forward in shock, and reached back towards the star, blood flowing out of the wound and staining her clothes. Realizing what had happened, she turned betrayed eyes on Crackle, only to have a second throwing star stab into the front of her neck, severing her jugular vein. Eyes widening as she realized she was about to die, her mouth gaped for a moment, and then she fell face down on the carpet. The amount of blood that pooled on the carpet was staggering and Dash looked completely nauseated at the sight of it. Crackle knelt down next to the body, plucked the ruby out of her pocket and then straightened back up.

"Double Trouble, go bury this body in the woods." he ordered. "Paper Star?"

Paper Star practically skipped over to him. "Yes?" she asked eagerly.

"Go take out anyone who has seen us at the motel. Leave no witnesses. Double Trouble will bury them."

She smiled at him serenely, and nodded. As she left the room, she was humming happily to herself, finally having something fun to do. Dash stared between the body and Crackle, having no idea what to do.

"Dash, load everyone's bags in the van. We're leaving in just a few minutes."

"Thank god." Dash muttered to himself. "This hellhole needs to be burned to the ground."

"Good idea, Dash." Crackle said distractedly. "See if you can find any fuel around the property."

Twenty minutes later, they had piled back into the van and were speeding down the highway away from the inferno they'd left behind. As Neal started to come around, they pulled into a gas station, bought him a gallon of ice cream, and were on their way again. When Neal opened his eyes, the first thing he became aware of was the agony his throat was in. It felt like he had swallowed a razor blade, and he winced, reaching a hand to his throat.

"You doing okay, Neal?" Crackle asked, glancing back at him from the front seat.

His gaze focusing on Crackle, he went to answer, but then immediately stopped as unbearable agony shot through his throat. Gasping, he clutched his throat and kept silent.

Dash stared at him for a moment and then looked like Christmas had come early. "Oh, my god, he can't talk!" he exclaimed with a wide smile. "Hallelujah!"

Neal turned a withering look at him.

"Do you think it's permanent?" Dash asked hopefully. "Maybe the Ruby sliced his vocal cords?"

Neal's eyes widened, and he turned a desperate gaze to Crackle.

"No, the doctor would have mentioned if there was any damage." Crackle assured Neal. "She said to eat some ice cream and your throat would feel better soon. It will be sore and swollen for a couple days."

Theodore plunked the gallon of icecream down onto Neal's knee, and then handed him a spoon. Neal stared down at the massive bucket of icecream, and turned it so he could see the flavour. Vanilla. They couldn't have picked a more boring flavour.

"We got intel on where Carmen Sandiego's base is." Crackle informed him. "After we drop off the ruby in two days, we're headed to California."

Neal gave a silent nod as he pried open the lid of the container. Wincing as he ate the first mouthful of icecream, he noted that the twins were both covered in little speckles of blood. What exactly had he missed? As they drove along in complete silence, Dash let out a sigh of contentment.

"Too bad this silence couldn't last." he said wistfully.

Neal flung a spoonful of icecream at him.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**Yikes this was a long chapter. lol**

**So, for anyone interested in hearing about Neal's story when he was trapped in the vents at V.I.L.E academy, I posted it as a separate story. It's chapter 1 in 'The Intrepid Tales of Team Red'. Check it out if you want.**

**The next update will hopefully be within a week.**

**Don't forget to leave a comment if you liked the chapter! :D**


	6. A Mime's Day Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Anybody who didn't see my comment on the bottom of last chapter, there is a new companion story posted called 'The Intrepid Tales of Team Red'. Chapter 1 is a Neal story and chapter 2 is a Dash story. Check it out if you're interested.
> 
> We're getting closer to when the two teams finally meet! :D Only a couple chapters to go.
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 6**

**A Mime's Day Out**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Mime Bomb and Zack were sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast when Shadowsan entered the kitchen. He gave them a nod of greeting and then silently made himself a cup of tea. Taking a seat at the table with them, he sipped his tea serenely for a few minutes, and then let out a deep sigh of contentment. He watched the two young men for a moment and then cleared his throat.

"Mime Bomb."

Mime Bomb looked up from his cereal and gave him a questioning look, and so Shadowsan continued.

"I'm ending your grounding today."

Mime Bomb dropped his spoon into his cereal with a splat, not expecting this.

Shadowsan gave him a hard look. "This does **not** mean you can do anything you want, and you still have to follow the rules of the house. I'm allowing you to go out and see the city with Zack, but you are **not** to leave his side, is this clear?"

Mime Bomb gave him a nod.

"Your doctor suggested this was for the best, and she made some very valid points. I'm trusting you not to do anything foolish."

"Don't worry, we'll be fine." Zack assured him with an excited grin. "Do we get spending money?"

Shadowsan nodded. "You will have more than enough to buy some clothes and have a day of entertainment." he replied. "The rest of us are going to visit Jean Paul, and run some errands of our own. Don't be home later than 10pm."

"Sweet!" Zack said jumping to his feet. "Come on Mime Bomb, we only have twelve hours of fun left!"

He grabbed Mime Bomb by the elbow and pulled him away from the table, the other boy shooting a frown at his half-eaten breakfast.

"Don't worry about that!" Zack assured him, as he dragged him out of the kitchen. "We're gonna eat so much carnival food we'll puke!"

Shadowsan watched them go and then let out a sigh, hoping he wouldn't regret this.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Zack sat outside the clothing store and stared up at the sky, completely bored. While Mime Bomb had chosen one store, Zack had chosen a sporting goods store and they agreed to meet outside in thirty minutes. That was an hour ago and Zack was still waiting. When the door to the shop finally opened, Mime Bomb came out wearing a completely different outfit and looking very proud of it. Zack looked him up and down in amusement.

Mime Bomb was wearing a short-sleeved black and white striped t-shirt, black shorts with suspenders, white gloves, black and white striped socks, solid black sneakers, and a new black beret on his head.

"Now **that** looks like a mime dressed for summer." Zack teased. "What else did you get?"

Mime Bomb handed over the bag and Zack peered inside. He stared at the pile of clothing Mime Bomb had chosen and raised an eyebrow.

"Dude, it's all black, grey and white."

Mime Bomb nodded.

"Wouldn't you rather throw a bit of colour in there somewhere?"

Mime Bomb shook his head.

Zack help up a package. "Even the underwear is black and white stripes." he stated incredulously.

Again Mime Bomb nodded, looking very satisfied with himself.

Zack gave a shrug. "Whatever floats your boat, I guess."

He handed the bag back and then gave a stretch. "What do you want to do now?

Mime Bomb shrugged, looking a bit uncertain.

"Let's go check out the new exhibition they opened last week." Zack suggested. "Do you like amusement parks?"

Mime Bomb shrugged again and Zack stared at him. "You don't know? Have you ever been to one?"

Mime Bomb shook his head no, and Zack looked absolutely heartbroken. "No way! That's unforgivable! We're definitely getting you on a rollercoaster! Come on, let's go!"

He grabbed Mime Bomb by the wrist and dragged him off down the street, ignoring the mime's uncertain expression.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Le Chèvre stared at the clock on the wall, wondering when El Topo was going to return from grabbing lunch. Antonio had shown up first thing in the morning to visit him, and the other man was being so careful and gentle around him that it was starting to become infuriating. He was being treated like he was made of glass, and he **hated** feeling weak. He knew El Topo was just trying to cheer him up and keep his mind off everything that had happened, but it wasn't what he wanted right now. El Topo had sat with him for a couple hours and then the others had shown up to visit. It was extremely tiring to have that many people in the room at once, and he became surly and somewhat rude as the visit went on. By the time it was lunch, El Topo knew he needed a break and suggested to the rest of the team that they go grab some food and come back later in the afternoon.

His breathing was a lot better that morning, and Le Chèvre knew he was probably going to be discharged later that day. He stabbed at his bland food with a fork, having no interest in actually eating any of it. When he had essentially turned the food into mush, a knock came at the door. He glanced up as his doctor entered the room, and the man gave him a friendly smile.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Molshev." he greeted. "How are you feeling today?"

"Fine." Le Chèvre answered with a frown.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your lunch, but there were a few things I wanted to talk to you about."

Le Chèvre pushed aside his lunch tray, and then leaned back against his pillows, giving the doctor a expectant look. The doctor took a seat on the chair beside his bed, and then gave Le Chèvre a pitying smile which instantly had Le Chèvre bristling.

"Now, Mr. Molshev, I understand you don't want to tell me how you ended up in this condition, but I must know, were you treated in a hospital?"

Le Chèvre shook his head.

"Was it a doctor who removed the bullet?"

Le Chèvre wasn't entirely sure and he gave a shrug. "I think it was a doctor, I was unconscious at the time."

The doctor frowned. "I see..." he said thoughtfully. "Did they provide you with any medications to avoid infection?"

Le Chèvre shook his head. "No. I never saw the doctor who treated me."

"I want to start you on a course of antibiotics." the doctor said. "The scarring is quite bad and I'm worried there is an infection as well. The C-Reactive protein in your blood tests were elevated, and I don't want to take any chances."

Le Chèvre nodded, wondering what else could possibly go wrong. "What time am I going to be released? My partner should be back soon."

The doctor gave him an apologetic look. "I apologize, Mr. Molshev, but I'm keeping you in for a few days just in case. Your breathing wasn't the best last night, and now with the threat of infection, I want to keep a close eye on you. You'll be able to go home in three days if your condition improves."

Le Chèvre shook his head, eyes narrowing. "No, you **said** I would be released today!"

"I am sorry, Mr. Molshev, but I really can't release you until I'm certain you're past all danger."

"**No**." Le Chèvre said stubbornly. "I feel fine, and you'll release me **today**!"

Again the doctor shook his head. "In good conscience I cannot release you." he said firmly, getting to his feet. He gave Le Chèvre another pitying look. "I recommend keeping the oxygen mask on for the rest of today and I'll send a nurse with antibiotics in just a few minutes. I'll be back to check on you later this afternoon."

Le Chèvre glared at the doctor, but the man simply pretended he didn't notice and headed for the door. "Make sure not to get too excited." he warned. "Just try to relax and take it easy."

Once the doctor was gone, Le Chèvre clenched his jaw, and felt like throwing something. Grabbing a hold of the nearby vase of flowers, he whipped it at the wall, the sound of the shattering glass relieving a bit of his temper. Taking a deep breath, he slowly sat up, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was sick of having everyone fuss over him and he was sick of being trapped in a hospital bed. Slowly getting to his feet, he took a step forward only to be jerked back by his I.V. He stared at it for a moment, and then reached out a hand to the I.V stand, pulling it along with him as he approached the window, avoiding the glass on the floor. He stared down at the parking lot below, and let out an aggravated sigh. Leaning his forehead against the glass, he watched the people below for a few moments, wondering when El Topo would be back.

Le Chèvre closed his eyes with another sigh, knowing this was only going to make El Topo even more smothering. He knew El Topo meant well, but it really wasn't what he needed right now. He needed a bit of normalcy and a bit of time to think. He couldn't seem to get any privacy right now with doctors, nurses and visitors constantly streaming in and out of his room. He felt fine, and didn't want everyone constantly questioning him about it.

Opening his eyes, he stared out the window and then his expression became determined. Reaching out, he roughly yanked the I.V from his arm, ignoring the blood that splattered on the floor. Tossing the I.V aside, Le Chèvre reached for his clothes and then began dressing, knowing he was being stupid but doing it anyway. Dropping the bloody hospital gown to the floor, he turned his gaze to the inhaler sitting on his lunch tray. He scowled at it for a few moments and then reached out and stuffed it into his pocket.

He still remembered the terror from not being able to breathe and knew the inhaler could be the only thing that saved him from it happening again. Turning to the window, he turned the knob to open it, and the window opened about three inches and then stopped. It was a child safety window and one solid kick to the latch snapped it off and the window swung open all the way. Hopping up onto the ledge, he glanced down and then glanced back inside the hospital room. El Topo was going to be furious at him, but he'd deal with that later.

Le Chèvre leapt out of the window and easily climbed his way down to the parking lot. The moment his feet were on solid ground, he headed off down the street having no idea where he was going to go.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Mime Bomb wasn't sure he liked the loud and crowded carnival when they first arrived. He was feeling a bit self-conscious, and Zack threw an arm around his shoulders reassuringly.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

Mime Bomb pointed at himself, and Zack frowned as he tried to understand what he meant. "Something to do with you?" he guessed.

Mime Bomb nodded and then pointed to one of the carnival's clowns that was making balloon animals nearby. Zack's eyes widened in realization.

"Oh! You're worried because of your costume!"

Mime Bomb nodded, but Zack wasn't concerned. "Meh, it's a carnival. No one will even give you a second glance. I'll show you what I mean."

He took him by the wrist and hurried through the carnival, clearly looking for something. When he found the stall he was looking for, he pointed to it triumphantly. Mime Bomb read the sign and then stared at Zack with a frown.

'Madame Zila's Facepainting'

"I'm gonna get something cool on my face!" Zack announced hurrying over to the stall.

Mime Bomb watched as Zack took a seat on the stool and then began flipping through the example book excitedly. He wasn't really paying attention to his surroundings and that's why when he felt a tug on his shirt, it startled him. He glanced down to see a small child smiling up at him holding a balloon out towards him.

"Are you a clown?" she asked him in excitement.

Mime Bomb waved his hand in a so-so motion, having a feeling something like this would happen eventually.

"Can you re-tie my poodle?" she asked him, holding out the balloon. "It came undone and I can't figure out how to fix it."

Mime Bomb shook his head, and went to step away from her, but she kept her grip on his shirt.

"But you're a clown!" she insisted. "How come you don't know how to tie balloons? All clowns can tie balloons!"

Mime Bomb had no way to explain that he wasn't **that** kind of clown and settled for shaking his head again. The girl frowned up at him.

"Can't you talk?" she asked him.

Again Mime Bomb shook his head.

"Why can't you talk?" she asked him, her grip not loosening.

Mime Bomb glanced around for the girl's parents but didn't see anyone around.

"Are you deaf?" she asked him. "Deaf people have trouble talking."

Mime Bomb let out a sigh and shook his head. The little girl finally let go of his shirt but to his annoyance, she once again shoved the balloon at him. She then held her right hand flat against her chest and moved it in a circular motion. Mime Bomb stared at her in surprise. She had just signed 'please' to him.

"Do you know the 'Please, thank you, you're welcome' song?" she demanded. "They play it for us in daycare on tv. Sign language is for people who can't speak."

Mime Bomb really wanted to know where this kid's parents were and why she was wandering around a carnival by herself. He felt another tug at his shirt and when he looked down, the girl was repeating the 'please' sign over and over again, her wide blue eyes shining with tears. Mime Bomb heaved a great sigh, snatched the balloon out of her hands and dutifully tied it into a poodle for her. She gave him a blinding smile and signed 'thank you'.

"I knew you could do it!" she exclaimed happily.

Mime Bomb rolled his eyes. Mime's were **not** supposed to tie balloons, even if they did know how.

"You're supposed to reply with 'you're welcome' when someone says 'thank you'." she whispered to him.

Mime Bomb signed 'you're welcome' to appease her, and she seemed satisfied. Seeing a security guard walking nearby, he waved him over and then pointed down at the little girl.

"Is this girl with you?" the guard asked.

Mime Bomb shook his head.

"Do you know her?"

Again he shook his head.

"He can't talk." the little girl helpfully supplied him. "He made me a balloon poodle."

"Where are your parents?" the guard asked, kneeling down beside her.

It was like the little girl just now realized she was by herself and her eyes widened as she glanced all around her. "I...don't know." she admitted.

"Okay, honey, let's go find them, okay?" the guard suggested. "Do you remember where you saw them last?"

"Yeah, we were waiting in line for popcorn, but then I saw this weird black and white clown and followed him."

The security guard gave a nod to Mime Bomb, assuming he worked for the carnival. "Okay, you can return to work, I'll handle things from here."

As the guard walked off with the little girl, Mime Bomb let out yet another sigh. Zack then jogged back to him with his entire face painted with a giant Boston Bruins logo.

"**There**, no one will bother you now!" Zack announced with a grin. "They'll all be too busy looking at my awesome face!"

Mime Bomb had to admit, he doubted **anyone** would stare at him when Zack's facepaint was such an eyesore. Zack then grabbed his wrist again and they were off, heading for the rides. Mime Bomb had never been to a carnival before and he was a bit uncertain over the rides, but he quickly realized he loved it. He loved the speed, he loved the wind in his hair and he loved loved the fact he could feel every drop of the ride in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't long before he was smiling right along with Zack. The other boy introduced him to the wonders of greasy carnival food and they played a few of the rigged games while their food settled.

Zack was a lot better at the games than Mime Bomb, and he kept getting shot after shot in the basketball hoop much to the vendor's chagrin. After his fifteenth shot in a row, Zack pointed to the giant stuffed sloth and the vendor reluctantly handed it over.

"I'm gonna give this to Ivy." he said, slinging it over his shoulder. "She loves sloths."

Mime Bomb flubbed his last shot, like he had with the previous fourteen, but he didn't seem bothered by this. The vendor handed him a keychain more out of pity than anything, and he turned to Zack, smiling brightly.

"You want to try the rollercoaster now?" Zack asked him. "I think it's been long enough that we won't puke. I saved the best for last!"

Mime Bomb nodded, and Zack let out a 'whoop' and charged towards it, dragging Mime Bomb along behind him. After waiting in the line, Zack turned to him, his eyes shining in excitement.

"You're going to have to take off your hat or you'll lose it." he warned. "Man, this is gonna be awesome!"

Leaving their belongings with the ride operator, they climbed into their seats, and Zack was already cheering. Mime Bomb shot him an amused glance thinking to himself that Zack's reactions were far better than the rides themselves. Four minutes later, as they got out of the ride, Zack was clutching both hands to his mouth and seemed rather green.

"Didn't wait long enough." he said as he stumbled his way away from the ride.

Mime Bomb grabbed their stuff and then followed Zack who wandered a bit away, still looking rather sick.

"Just need a bit of air." Zack assured him, taking in a deep breath.

Immediately the overpowering scent of fish filled his nose, and Zack gagged. "Ugh, fish!" he cried out in horror. "Not fish!"

Zack then fell to his knees as he lost his lunch on the ground. "Why does it smell like fish?!" Zack cried out between retches. "Oh my god...the fish..."

Mime Bomb glanced up and saw Zack was directly beside a sushi stand.

"So gross..." Zack complained, holding his nose as he vomited. "Fish...no...ugh."

Zack let out such an over-dramatic moan that he was beginning to attract attention. A man approached with a hose to clean the mess and Zack fell over onto his side holding both hands over his mouth. Mime Bomb reached down, grabbed him by the ankles and then began dragging him away from the sushi stand. When they were several yards away from the stand, he released Zack's legs and then knelt down beside his friend. Zack looked up at him miserably and he saw Mime Bomb was biting his lower lip in an attempt to hold back laughter. Zack laughed in response, seeing the humour in it, and glared in the direction of the sushi stand.

"Sorry, I just can't stand seafood." he explained. "Just the smell is enough to turn my stomach. Oh, that was so nasty."

Mime Bomb still looked far too amused, and he held a hand down to help Zack back to his feet. Zack accepted the hand, and once he was back on his feet, he held a hand to his stomach and began walking farther away from the sushi stand.

"I don't think I can handle another ride right now... You want to try a couple more games instead?"

Mime Bomb was tempted to insist on the rollercoaster again just to see Zack's reaction, but he took pity on the other boy and simply nodded. As Zack led him back over to the games, Mime Bomb simply watched knowing it was a waste of money for him to even try. His aim was terrible and he probably would have better luck throwing with his eyes closed than to actually try. He couldn't even blame the broken arm for it.

Zack won several games in a row, and Mime Bomb had to admit the boy was talented at sports. He watched as Zack tossed a dart at the target and despite it being a weighted dart, he still hit the edge of the target. Zack selected his prize and then approached Mime Bomb with a small piece of red fabric. To his surprise, Zack reached out and tied a red bandanna around the mime's neck.

"There!" Zack announced proudly. "Now you finally have a bit of colour on you!"

Mime Bomb glanced down at the bandanna and then at Zack's happy face and decided he would leave it there. He didn't really understand why it made the other boy so happy, but disrupting his wardrobe a bit was worth that smile.

"You ready to try something else?" Zack asked. "We could go see a movie or go to the arcade if you want?"

Mime Bomb nodded and held up two fingers and Zack frowned at him. "In two minutes?" he guessed.

Mime Bomb shook his head no.

"You want option number two?"

Mime Bomb tapped his nose and pointed to Zack with a smile.

"Well, okay then! Arcade it is!"

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

When El Topo opened the door to the hospital room, he was definitely not expecting the sight that met him. Blood was splattered on the floor, on the bed and on a discarded hospital robe, and there was shattered glass absolutely everywhere. Le Chèvre was nowhere in sight, and the there was a bloody hand print on the open window.

"Le Chèvre?!" El Topo cried out in alarm. "Where is Le Chèvre?! What happened here?!"

Carmen pushed her way into the room, observed the destruction and turned grave eyes to the others. They entered the room, but found no signs of Le Chèvre. Carmen glanced out the open window, and saw blood on the bricks outside.

"Think this was V.I.L.E?" Ivy asked.

"That would be my first guess." Carmen said, glancing around for any sort of clue.

"We have to go after them!" El Topo cried. "They'll kill him! We need to go now!"

"We don't know where they are." Carmen pointed out to him. "Player, do you see any recent V.I.L.E activity?"

"No." Player said after a moment. "Nothing of any importance anyway. V.I.L.E is in Dallas right now for the ruby hand-off, but I've already tipped off A.C.M.E about that. I'm seeing no signs of V.I.L.E being in San Diego."

"We have to do something!" El Topo said, his tone bordering on hysteria. "What if he has an asthma attack? We need to find him!"

"I think they took his inhaler with them." Carmen pointed out. "It's not on his table and I didn't see it anywhere on the floor. Whatever reason they took him, they want him alive."

Chase scratched at his head as he thought about this. "Perhaps this is a hostage situation?" he suggested. "They want to trade Le Chèvre for Carmen?"

Shadowsan nodded his agreement. "That sounds like something V.I.L.E would do." he said with a frown. "We will have to find them before they realize what we're up to."

"Player, keep an eye out for anything suspicious." Carmen instructed. "Let's do a sweep of the city and see if we can find any clues. We'll split up and keep our communicators on at all times."

Everyone nodded their agreement.

"Someone see if they can reach Zack and Mime Bomb."

"Okay, on it." Ivy said, pulling out her phone.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"You're getting better at gaming." Zack said as they exited the arcade. "How's your arm feeling?"

Mime Bomb gave him a thumbs up as he glanced down at his broken arm. The arm no longer hurt at all, and he was anxious for the day the cast was finally removed. Only a couple more weeks and he'd have his left arm back.

"We should go see a movie." Zack suggested. "I haven't been a movie in forever! There's a theater across the street if you want to take a look at the posters with me?"

Mime Bomb nodded, and knew it would be nice to take a break for a while. He followed Zack across the street, and they stared at the movie posters, Zack seeming more excited by the moment.

"Let's see, we got some sorta girly movie starring Jennifer Aniston." Zack made a face and looked to the next poster. "Oh, sweet! Turbo Robot Wars 3! The action scenes are really awesome in this series! You wanna see that one?"

Mime Bomb gave a disinterested shrug.

"Okay, well we have Zombie Avalanche. A good horror movie is always fun. I read that they used 1400 gallons of blood in this movie. You interested?"

He got another shrug.

"How about Kung-Fu Moviestar? Everyone loves a good Jackie Chan movie!"

Mime Bomb glanced at one of the posters and once again shrugged.

Zack frowned and turned his attention to the next poster. "Sharknado 12? It's very silly and not too gory. The tornado of sharks somehow make it into outer space. How about that one?"

Mime Bomb glanced back at the same poster he'd been looking at before and shrugged.

"You gotta help me out here, bud." Zack scolded. "I don't know what you want to see. How about Attack of the Nazi Yeti? It's supposed to be a surprisingly dark film, and it got pretty good reviews."

Mime Bomb still gave him a shrug and Zack let out a sigh.

"Do **any** of these interest you?"

Mime Bomb's gaze flitted to one of the posters for a moment and then he turned his gaze to the ground. Zack glanced at the poster Mime Bomb kept glancing at, and then he frowned.

"...you want to see the chick flick...don't you?"

Mime Bomb kept his gaze on the ground. Zack clapped him on the back and began pulling him towards the door. "Okay, chick flick it is. This is **your** day and you can see what you want. We are going to see 'Rainbow of my Heart', and so come on."

Mime Bomb relaxed when it was clear Zack didn't care, and he allowed the other boy to pull him into the theater without protest.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"Zack's not answering his phone." Ivy said with a frown. "He must have turned his communicator on silent."

Carmen frowned. "He mentioned something about going to the movies, and he must have silenced it when the movie started."

Shadowsan sighed in irritation. "Did no one tell Zack that he should **never** turn off his communicator?"

"Guess not." Ivy replied with a shrug. "Should we be worried about them?"

Shadowsan frowned. "Player, can you trace where they are?"

"Sure thing, just a sec." Player was silent for a few moments as he typed away on his computer. "Okay, looks like you're right. He turned his com off at the Mega-Movie Plex downtown about 40 minutes ago."

Ivy relaxed and put away her com. "I'll keep trying him every half hour or so until he picks up. I'll take the downtown area just in case I run into them."

"Sounds good, Ivy." Carmen replied, turning her attention to the distraught El Topo. "We'll get him back, don't worry."

"But the blood..." El Topo said. "What did they do to him?"

"It's not a lot of blood." Carmen pointed out. "He probably got cut on a piece of the glass. V.I.L.E won't get away with this, and we're going to find him. I promise we'll get him back safe and sound."

El Topo nodded, and he glared at the blood, vowing to make V.I.L.E pay for this.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Zack wiped at his eyes as they left the theater, trying very hard to keep his expression firm. Mime Bomb shot him an amused glance and mimed offering him a tissue.

Zack's face coloured and he scowled. "I got something in my eye." he defended. "It wasn't at **all** because Princess Harriett got her pure and innocent heart shattered by that monster Dmitri. Or that her faithful steed gave his life to save her from her evil sister's plot. Not at all. It's completely unrelated."

Mime Bomb gave him a nod, but was still clearly amused.

"I swear you must have a heart of stone." Zack muttered. "You sat right through that dead horse scene without so much as a sniffle."

Mime Bomb rolled his eyes, and then reached out and took him by the sleeve.

"Where we going?" Zack asked in confusion.

Mime Bomb pointed ahead, and so Zack followed without question. He followed for a few minutes, and realized they were walking back in the direction of the base.

"It's almost suppertime and I'm starving." he announced. "I kinda lost my lunch earlier, and so I'm ready for a good old fashioned gorging. Just no fish..."

Mime Bomb shook his head and shot a grin back at him.

"It's not funny." Zack grumbled. "You have no idea how horrible that was...fish is something the devil created specifically to make my life miserable."

Mime Bomb's grin only widened and so Zack conceded defeat and laughed.

"Okay, maybe it was a **little** funny..."

To Zack's surprise, he was pulled into a Starbuck's, and Mime Bomb approached the counter confidently.

"Er...you want me to order for you, buddy?" Zack offered, hovering over his shoulder.

Mime Bomb shook his head and then turned a smile at the surly-looking cashier.

"Can I help you?" the man asked with a sigh as he recognized Mime Bomb.

Mime Bomb began a complicated pantomime and the barista watched in silence as Zack waited for the inevitable confusion. When Mime Bomb was done, he turned an expectant gaze to the barista who began pressing buttons on his screen.

"Grande caramel macchiato with coconut milk, two pumps cinnamon dolce syrup, two pumps vanilla syrup, no whip, hazelnut drizzle on top."

Mime Bomb gave him a thumb's up and Zack simply blinked in complete surprise. "You understood all that?" he asked.

"It's my job to take orders, Sir, of course I understood. He was very clear with what he wanted." the barista answered dryly. "Now are you two together or separate?"

"Together." Zack replied. "Um...I guess I'll get the same."

"And your name for the cup?"

"Zack."

"11.82."

Zack handed over a twenty and when he received his change, Mime Bomb nudged him and pointed to the tip jar. When Zack dropped a dollar in, Mime Bomb frowned at him and crossed his arms.

"Okay, okay." Zack said, dropping a five in. "Stop with the dirty look."

As they moved to the end of the counter to wait for their drinks, they didn't notice a group of three men watching them from where they sat nearby.

"So, where do you want to grab supper?" Zack asked. "I think there's a burger place somewhere around here?"

Mime Bomb gave him a shrug, not really interested.

"Okay, well, let's have our drinks and can figure it out later. We still have tons of time left before we have to be back and so we can take out time."

Mime Bomb felt like someone was looking at him, and when he turned to look, he noticed the strange men staring at them with ugly looks. Mime Bomb turned back around, but kept watch on them out of the corner of his eye, not liking this one bit. Zack of course was oblivious and was talking about some sort of famous drink he read about online, and Mime Bomb wasn't sure he should alert him or not. The men made no move to get up, and so Mime Bomb pretended not to notice them, instead watching the barista make their drinks.

"Drinks for Mime Bomb and Mack." the barista said a moment later, setting their drinks on the counter.

Zack stared at Mime Bomb in surprise. "How'd he know **your** name?"

Mime Bomb waved his fingers into the air and Zack rolled his eyes. "It was **not** magic." he replied.

"I always remember my more...special guests." the barista replied as he turned away. "Enjoy."

Zack frowned at his misspelled name, and then gave a shrug.

They grabbed their drinks and then headed for the door, only Mime Bomb noticing the men getting up from their seats. As soon as they were outside, Mime Bomb yanked on Zack's sleeve and then pointed behind them. Confused, Zack turned around just as the men exited the cafe. Zack furrowed his brow and stepped aside to give them room to pass, but the men instead approached them.

"Er...hi?" Zack greeted, taking a sip of his drink.

"What are a couple of freaks like you two doing in our neighbourhood?" one of them demanded.

"We live near here." Zack replied, taking a step back.

"I've never seen you before!" the man accused.

Zack tried giving him a disarming smile. "Well, I don't normally look like this." he said pointing to the facepaint. "We just came from the Exhibition."

The man pushed Zack up against the wall of the cafe, and Zack winced, a bit of coffee slopping down his shirt.

"Don't you know who we are?" the man demanded.

Zack frowned at them. "Uh...no. Sorry."

"We're the Iron Knuckle Gang, and no one, and I mean **no one** lives here without paying the tax."

Zack was thoroughly confused. "Tax? What tax?"

The man grabbed Zack by the shirt and hauled him away from the wall so hard, Zack almost lost his footing. "The tax that people here pay so I don't kill them." he replied.

Mime Bomb took Zack by the arm, and tried to coax him to just walk away, knowing this wasn't going to end well. He was immediately seized by the leader of the group whose hand gripped Mime Bomb by the throat so hard, he couldn't breathe. Zack could see the panic starting to grow in Mime Bomb's eyes and that was all it took for him to lose his temper. Tossing his coffee to the ground, he swung out a fist at the man as hard as he could, his fury unleashed.

"Get your hands off my brother!" he screamed.

The hit connected solidly with the man's cheek and he stumbled back, releasing Mime Bomb. Zack stepped in front of Mime Bomb protectively, fists raised, and the three men seemed surprised. The surprise only lasted a few seconds before the men surged towards Zack, furious and ready to fight. Zack got hit hard in the stomach and before he could recover, the leader of the group grabbed him by the front of the shirt and threw him to the ground.

"You're **dead**!" the man snarled.

Just as the leader went to stomp on Zack's throat, Mime Bomb suddenly sprung onto the man's back. He slammed his hot coffee down on the man's head and then clung to his neck with all his strength as the man screamed in pain from the burns. As the man thrashed to get him off, Mime Bomb clung on, digging his fingernails into the neck as hard as he could. Mime Bomb was not big, and he was not strong, but **this** was how he had passed Coach Brunt's self-defense class. He fought dirty and he dug his nails in deeper and deeper until one of the other men hit him off. Mime Bomb struck the pavement hard, but he'd been hit enough times during training to just brush it off.

Zack was already to his feet and he swung out a fist as one of the men went for Mime Bomb. He took a hit to the face and Mime Bomb's arm was grabbed by the third man. He immediately sunk his teeth into the man's arm, and he was released with a pained howl. Mime Bomb was then hit to the ground by another one of the goons, and he glanced over at Zack just in time to see him kicked to the ground. They were sorely outmatched, and as they exchanged a look, they knew this was not going to be a fight they'd win.

Suddenly one of the men was kicked so hard in the side of the face, he was slammed into the wall, and he collapsed to the ground unconscious. Looking up, they saw Le Chèvre standing there, fists raised and ready to fight. He glared down at them for a moment and then attacked the two men remaining with everything he had. He released all of his pent-up stress on the unsuspecting men and he kicked another in the throat without any warning. Not even waiting for the man to hit the ground, Le Chèvre leapt off the man's stomach and then landed with both feet into the leader's chest. The leader of the men hit the ground hard, and Le Chèvre was on top of him in an instant hitting him over and over and over again.

"Er...I think ya got him." Zack told him, approaching.

Le Chèvre took a ragged breath and felt his chest beginning to tighten from the exertion. Stepping back away from everyone, he gave another glare at Zack and Mime Bomb, and wiped the blood from his knuckles. Reaching into his pocket for the inhaler, he pulled it out and took two puffs as he struggled to control his breathing. The inhaler seemed to do the trick and after a few seconds, his breathing had normalized.

"Thanks man, you were just in time!" Zack told him with a wide smile.

"Mon Dieu, you two were pathetic." Le Chèvre commented, crossing his arms. "You would have been beaten to a pulp if I hadn't shown up!"

Zack rubbed the back of his head looking embarrassed. "Yeah...maybe." he admitted. "I see they let you out of the hospital. You're looking good, Le Chèvre."

Le Chèvre then turned his glare to Mime Bomb who was getting up from the sidewalk. "And you should be ashamed of yourself! You're a V.I.L.E graduate and a couple of random street thugs just wiped the floor with you!"

Mime Bomb crossed his arms and rolled his eyes at Le Chèvre. Le Chèvre scowled at him and then threw his hands up in defeat. "I give up, you're hopeless. Any villain who dresses like a mime is beyond all help. I don't know why I even bother. You wouldn't listen to me during training, and I don't know why I expected you to now."

Mime Bomb rolled his eyes again and then patted Le Chèvre on the back.

Le Chèvre gave Mime Bomb one last glare and then let out a sigh. "Are either of you hurt?" he asked.

Both boys shook their heads no.

This seemed to satisfy Le Chèvre and he nodded. "Where is the base?" he demanded. "I've gotten myself turned around. I know it's close by."

"I think we've had just about enough adventure for the day, right Mime Bomb?" Zack said, glancing at the mime who nodded as he picked up their dropped belongings. "We'll walk you home."

Le Chèvre looked decidedly grumpy, but he nodded his agreement. As they walked away, leaving the thugs unconscious behind them, Zack threw his arm around Mime Bomb's shoulders.

"Sorry your fun day out ended like this." he said.

Mime Bomb didn't actually look very upset about it, and to Zack's surprise he smiled. Zack was rather sore, but he had to admit it was an interesting end to their day, and so he let out a low chuckle.

"Nice move with the coffee, I bet that really burned the stupid jerk."

Mime Bomb then mimed punching someone and Zack laughed. "Yeah, I think we did okay too."

Le Chèvre rolled his eyes. "Con comme une valise sans poignèe." he muttered under his breath.

"What's that you got there?" Zack asked, seeing Mime Bomb pulling something out of his pocket.

Mime Bomb smirked at him and held up three wallets.

Zack laughed. "No way! How'd you manage to pickpocket them?!"

Le Chèvre glanced at the wallets out of the corner of his eye, not sure he could have pulled that off while fighting against three men. He'd never admit that of course, and he shot Mime Bomb a thoughtful look. He supposed there was a reason Mime Bomb got top marks in Shadowsan's class. He ignored Zack and Mime Bomb the rest of the walk back to base and the moment Zack unlocked the door, Le Chèvre fled to his bedroom.

Zack plopped himself down on the couch tiredly, and Mime Bomb joined him, dropping their stuff to the floor carelessly. It was early evening and they were both completely exhausted. Zack stared at Mime Bomb for a moment and then gave him a nudge with his elbow.

"If we're the only ones home right now, then we can order take-out for supper. Shadowsan **hates** take-out, and so this is a golden opportunity."

That piqued Mime Bomb's interest and he gave a nod.

"Great! I think I saw a phone book kicking around here somewhere. Just a sec and I'll hunt for it."

Zack crossed to the other side of the living room and began digging through a pile of junk sitting in the corner as Mime Bomb simply watched. A moment later Zack plunked a giant phone book onto the coffee table in front of him and resumed his seat. Flipping to the back of the book where the local menus were, he turned to look at his friend. He was about to say something when his communicator rang.

Pulling it out out of his pocket, he noticed the screen was cracked. Hoping it still worked, he answered the call. "Hello?"

"Finally, you turnip-head!" Ivy scolded. "I've been trying to reach you for hours!"

"Oh, hey Ivy." Zack greeted. "We were at the movies. What's up?"

"Le Chèvre has been kidnapped by V.I.L.E and we need you two to meet us on the streets to help look for signs of where they may have taken him. I'm texting you the location to meet me now."

"Wait...what?" Zack said, not sure he'd heard correctly. "Did you say Le Chèvre was kidnapped?"

"Yes!" Ivy snapped.

"Um...Le Chèvre is with **us**!"

Ivy went silent for a moment. "What?"

"Le Chèvre is with us right now. We're at the base. He's his normal, grouchy self and there's no sign of V.I.L.E anywhere."

"You're sure?" Ivy demanded, sounding uncertain.

"Yeah, he's in his bedroom brooding right this second."

"We'll be home right away." Ivy said. "Don't let him go anywhere."

Before Zack had a chance to respond, the call went dead. "Well, that was rude." he commented, setting the com aside. "And weird."

Zack then turned his attention back to the phone book with a shrug. "So what are you in the mood for? Pizza?"

Mime Bomb studied the pages in front of him and then pointed.

"Indian?" Zack said uncertainly. "I dunno, man, isn't that spicy? I can't do spicy. How about a burger joint?"

Mime Bomb shook his head and pointed to something else.

"Thai? What's Thai food? Is that like Chinese food? What if I don't like it? How about something a little more traditionally American like a good old sandwich?"

Mime Bomb crinkled his nose, tired of sandwiches since they'd been eating them for three days straight.

"Okay, how about we split a bucket of fried chicken? I'll even let you call dibs on the first piece."

Mime Bomb shook his head, not wanting anything greasy. Zack could see they probably weren't going to agree on a place and then had an idea. Grabbing a sheet of paper off the coffee table, he ripped it up into ten pieces and then handed them over to Mime Bomb who stared at him in confusion.

"Okay, here's what we're going to do. I'm going to name five places, and you name five places and then we draw one from a hat. Whatever place is drawn is final and no one can complain. Deal?"

This seemed to be over-complicating things, and Mime Bomb simply stared at him.

"Oh, but we need a hat!" Zack glanced around and then his gaze settled on Mime Bomb's hat. He snatched it from his head and plopped it down on the phone book. "There, perfect!"

Mime Bomb's over-grown hair instantly fell into his face the moment his hat was removed, and he gave Zack an unimpressed look.

"You can have it back in a second." Zack assured him, shoving a pen at him. "Okay, now write down my choices and then write yours!"

Mime Bomb heaved a sigh and then clicked the pen.

"Ok, first choice is burgers."

Mime Bomb scribbled on the first piece of paper, folded it over and then dropped it into the hat.

"Sandwiches."

"Pizza."

"Steak."

"Chinese."

Mime Bomb dropped the fifth piece of paper into the hat and then quickly wrote down his own choices. When the last piece was folded and dropped into the hat, Zack eagerly picked it up, gave it a good shake and then closed his eyes. He reached his hand in, made a big show of rustling the papers and then pulled one out.

"Ok, here we go." he said, unfolding the paper. His face immediately dropped. "...sushi."

Mime Bomb gave him an innocent smile and Zack scowled and crumpled the paper up. "You have the girliest handwriting I've seen in my life." he commented. "You even dotted your 'i' with a heart!"

Zack looked mournful for a moment and then he turned pleading eyes to Mime Bomb. "Can I please pick again? You know how I feel about fish! **Please**?"

Mime Bomb seemed to think long and hard for a moment and then he gave him a nod. Zack shot him a grin and grabbed a second paper and unfolded it.

"Sushi..." This time the 'i' was dotted with a star.

Zack frowned over at his friend. "Did you make all five of yours sushi?" he demanded. He grabbed another one only to reveal sushi dotted with a smiley face.

Zack emptied the hat onto his lap and opened the rest of the papers revealing Mime Bomb had written the same thing on all of them. When he turned accusing eyes on Mime Bomb, he saw the mime had dissolved into silent laughter, grinning at him mischievously. Zack was surprised for a moment, and then he knew the game was on. He feigned offense and tossed the handful of papers at him, only making Mime Bomb laugh even harder. Zack had never seen Mime Bomb laugh like this before, and he wondered how far he could push this.

Zack pretended to be furious and he picked up a cushion and whipped it at Mime Bomb as hard as he could. Mime Bomb caught the pillow and retaliated, knocking Zack off the couch and onto his backside. Seeing Zack's outraged face at the attack, Mime Bomb suddenly snorted loudly in his laughter and then covered his mouth with both hands as he laughed hysterically, nearly falling off the couch. This was the closest Zack had ever heard him to using his voice and it had Zack smiling like a loon and joining in the laughter.

"You are a troll." Zack exclaimed between laughs and throwing the cushion at him again. "Geez, man, what's up with you today? You trying to start something?"

Mime Bomb simply tossed the cushion back at him, still smiling brightly.

"Would you really have let me order sushi?" Zack demanded.

Mime Bomb grinned at him and then shrugged.

"What are you two weirdos doing?"

They both looked up and Tigress stood in the doorway staring at them with a bewildered expression.

"Nothing." Zack replied with another laugh.

"God, you two are so lame." she muttered, entering the room with a roll of the eyes. "Where is Le Chèvre? He took off from the hospital earlier today."

"But he's going to be okay, right?" Zack demanded, sobering up. "He's in his bedroom."

Without another word, Tigress charged for Le Chèvre's bedroom and a moment later, they heard her bang on the door. "Unlock the door, Jean Paul." she ordered. "I want to talk to you."

Le Chèvre must have responded with something, because Tigress was suddenly angry. "Unlock the door **now**." she ordered, banging on it. "Don't you **dare** tell me to leave you alone! I swear I will kick your ass if you don't open the door and let me in!"

There was another beat of silence.

"What do you mean you'll only talk to Antonio?! I'm your friend and you **are** going to let me in!"

A few seconds of silence passed and then Tigress stormed back into the living room, looking furious.

"Is he okay?" Zack asked worriedly. "What did the doctors say?"

"Yeah, he's going to be okay." Tigress snapped. "Maybe not by the time I'm done with him, but for now he's okay. The doctors just wanted him to remain a couple more days for observation."

"Good, at least they know what the problem is." Zack said. "I thought he'd been released, otherwise I would have told you guys sooner. Where's everyone else?"

"I was the closest person to base, but they'll be here soon."

Tigress glanced around at the mess they'd created in the living room, and then at the open phone book. "What are you two doing?" she demanded.

"Ordering take-out. You want any?"

Tigress frowned and glanced down at the phone book. "What are you getting?"

"Not sushi." Zack replied in an overly serious voice.

There was another snort from Mime Bob who once again clapped his hands over his mouth. Tigress stared at him for a moment and then rolled her eyes and took a seat across from them.

"Oh! I have an idea!" Zack said in excitement. "Sheena can decide for us! Whatever she picks, we get. How about that?"

Mime Bomb nodded his agreement.

Tigress gave them an odd look but dragged the phone book over so she could take a look. After studying her options for a few moments, she made her choice. "Here." she said, pointing to the menu.

Zack squinted at it. "Lebanese?"

"Get me the falafel combo, extra rice." she said, getting up to head towards her room. "Call me when it's here."

"Feel awful, extra rice." Zack repeated in confusion. "Seems about right for Sheena. What do you want?"

Mime Bomb leaned over and pointed at something.

"Kaf-ta Ka-bob with hummus...I don't know what that is, but okay." Zack frowned at the menu and then scratched his head. "Er...what should I get? I don't know what any of this is."

Mime Bomb pointed to something.

"Shish Ta-ooo-uk wrap." Zack read out loud. "You think I would like that?"

Mime Bomb nodded.

"What is it?"

Mime Bomb made a motion like a bird flapping it's wings.

"Chicken?"

Mime Bomb nodded.

"Is it like a sandwich?"

Again Mime Bomb nodded.

"Okay, I'm sold. I'll text the order in so I don't have to try to pronounce these words...Should I order for everyone else too, you think?"

Mime Bomb shrugged, and then nodded.

"Okey dokey..." Zack said, looking uncertainly at the menu. "Maybe I'll order everyone the same as me just to be safe..."

Only ten minutes later, all hell broke loose in the base once the others returned. There was a lot of yelling and banging on Le Chèvre's door, and finally he unlocked the door to allow El Topo in. The yelling didn't stop however, and no one had ever seen or heard El Topo that angry before. He was so angry, he was screaming at Le Chèvre in Spanish for a good fifteen minutes before he realized and switched over to English. They didn't hear a single word from Le Chèvre, and after El Topo had ranted for a good while, the room fell silent.

Everyone else was just waiting in the living room awkwardly, and when it was finally quiet, Carmen turned her gaze to Mime Bomb.

"Cute outfit." she told him, trying to break the awkward silence. "Looks good."

Mime Bomb gave her a smile and nod.

"I got you a sloth, Ivy." Zack said a bit too loudly. "I had to get 400 basketball shots to win it for you!"

Ivy let out a skeptical snort but she smiled when she saw the giant sloth. "Thanks, bro." she said, picking it up. "It's really soft."

"I ordered us supper too." Zack announced. "It should be here in a few minutes."

"What's that all over your face?" Ivy demanded. "You look like a loon."

"It's the Bruin's, Ivy, where's your sense of Boston pride?"

"Ugh." Ivy commented. "I can't believe you walked around in public like that!"

"Well, we had a fantastic day, didn't we Mime Bomb?"

Mime Bomb nodded, and gave a thumb's up.

Chase was squinting at Mime Bomb thoughtfully and then he frowned. "You were in a fight." he commented. "Your eye is swollen."

Carmen gave him a concerned look. "What happened?" she demanded.

"Oh, it was no big deal." Zack said with a shrug. "Just a couple creeps trying to rob us. We're all good, and Mime Bomb stole their wallets in revenge."

Mime Bomb dropped the three wallets onto the table and Carmen gave him a disapproving look. "Just be careful, alright? That arm still isn't fully healed yet."

Mime Bomb gave her a salute.

The doorbell rang and Zack jumped to his feet in an instant. "Food's here!"

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Later that night**

"Red!" Player called loudly. "Wake up!** Red!**"

Carmen jerked awake and then let out a deep groan. "What time is it?" she demanded.

"Three-thirty in the morning." Player responded, sounding much too chipper.

"What is it? Is something the matter?" she asked, yawning widely.

"Well, it's not an emergency or anything, but I thought I should tell you right away."

"Tell me what?" Carmen asked, rubbing at her eyes.

"I found him." Player announced.

"What?" Carmen asked in confusion. "Found who?"

"I found out who Mime Bomb is."

Carmen was instantly wide awake.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**The next chapter will hopefully be within a week.**

**Don't forget to leave a comment if you liked the chapter! :D**

**A huge thank you to the super-talented artists who did artwork for this chapter!**

**Un-Awesome-Me did the first pic with Mime Bomb wearing his new summer outfit**

****Coulrosaurus**** did the second pic with Mime Bomb getting the red **bandanna**

**You two are awesome, and thank you so much!**


	7. A.C.M.E vs. Team Crackle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> For those who have been asking me, here is a list of character ages from my story. This story is around two years after Carmen left V.I.L.E. According to the Carmen Sandiego novel, students at the academy ranged in age from 18-30. I figured everyone would probably range in age, even if they attended the same graduating class.
> 
> Carmen-19  
Zack -20  
Ivy-21  
Player-13  
Shadowsan-58  
Mime Bomb-22  
El Topo-24  
Le Chevre-26  
Tigress-21  
Chase-43  
Neal-32  
Dash-25  
Paper Star-20  
Crackle-23  
Double Trouble-30  
Julia-24
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 7**

**A.C.M.E vs. Team Crackle**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Crackle stared at the television screen intently, narrowing his eyes in disapproval. Another V.I.L.E mission had failed in Istanbul last night and the operatives had almost been captured. The operatives had messed it up so spectacularly, that it even made the international news. Somehow when trying to steal a valuable artifact out of the museum, they had lit a tapestry on fire, and nearly burned the whole building down. The police and firetrucks had shown up faster than expected, and the operatives had no choice but to flee without the artifact. The police had chased their motorcycle through downtown, and one of the operatives had been shot in the back. The police lost them during the chase, and it was unknown whether anyone had been killed.

"Who was it?" Dash asked, his gaze also on the screen.

"I bet it was Moose Boy and Otterman." Neal said, his voice sounding strained and raw. "They always mess up."

"Neal, don't talk." Crackle scolded him. "You'll make your throat worse. I don't know who it was, but they are likely in very big trouble with V.I.L.E right now. The powder-horn they were sent to steal was extremely valuable and now V.I.L.E won't be able to get it until security winds down. It could take years before V.I.L.E has another chance."

"I wonder if the operative died?" Dash said thoughtfully. "Shot by a cop. What an embarrassing way to get killed."

"Alright!" a chipper voice suddenly interrupted. They looked up as their waitress held out a plate. "Who had the mega-breakfast platter?"

"Me." Roosevelt said eagerly.

She set it in front of him and picked up the next plate from her tray. "And who had the fruit tower?"

Paper Star waved at her and she was passed a tall pile of fresh fruit.

"Egg whites with spinach, lima beans and roasted mushrooms?"

"That's mine." Dash told her as she passed the plate over.

"I'll be right back with everyone else's breakfast." the waitress told them, disappearing back into the kitchen.

Neal stared at Dash's breakfast with a wrinkled nose, not one thing on that plate he'd willingly eat.

"That breakfast looks like something a prisoner would be given as a punishment." Neal commented.

"You just have the palate of a five year old." Dash responded in a snooty tone of voice.

"I'd rather have the palate of a five year old then eat any of that crap." Neal responded.

"Neal, stop talking." Crackle scolded with a sigh. "You're going to lose your voice again."

Neal rolled his eyes and took a sip of his orange juice, wincing as it burned his sore throat.

"Alright, now who had the standard breakfast?" the waitress asked as she approached.

Crackle raised a hand and was passed a plate.

"Tall stack of blueberry pancakes?"

"That's me." Theordore said.

"And you must be the plate of toast." the waitress said, putting the last plate in front of Neal.

Neal frowned down at the single piece of toast on his plate. "Alright, who ordered my breakfast?" he demanded. "I said I wanted a standard breakfast like Crackle!"

"Oops, I must have misheard you." Dash replied with a shrug. "Your voice is still a bit scratchy."

"You heard me fine." Neal accused.

"Your fault for going to the bathroom before the waitress took your order." Dash replied, spearing one of the mushrooms with his fork.

Neal stretched out under the table with his foot and kicked Dash's chair backwards. Dash flailed for a moment but managed to catch himself before the chair tipped over, and he turned murderous eyes on Neal.

"Oops." Neal said, picking up his toast. "Sorry about that."

"Both of you knock it off." Crackle threatened. "I don't want to listen to you two bickering all morning. Neal, stop straining your voice."

Neal rolled his eyes and waved their waitress over.

"Anything I can get for you, sugar?" she asked.

"I think I'd like the standard breakfast." he told her.

The waitress winced and gave him an apologetic look. "It's the breakfast rush right now, and so it'll be at least forty minutes."

"That's too long." Crackle informed Neal. "Make due with the toast, we're not waiting forty minutes."

The waitress gave Neal one last look of apology and then hurried off to her next table.

Neal let out a sigh and reached down to where his dufflebag rested by his feet. He dug around for a moment and then pulled out a tiny glass jar of something. He opened it and spread a thin layer of the black spread on his toast and then took a bite without a word. After a few bites, he glanced over at Crackle.

"Hey, wombat, you want a little taste from home?"

Crackle gave him a questioning look and Neal slid the jar over to him. Crackle stared down at the jar, and couldn't help but feel like it was somehow familiar. He frowned down at it for a moment and then dipped a knife into it and spread a bit across his own toast.

"What is **that**?" Dash demanded, staring at the thick black goo with a disgusted look.

"Vegemite." Neal answered. "An Australian staple."

Crackle took a bite of his toast and the flavour was instantly familiar to him. He had a vague memory of himself sitting at a kitchen table eating toast as a child with a loud and chaotic family around him, but that was as far as the memory went. He couldn't remember any faces, and he couldn't remember who the people were. Were they his family or someone else's? He took another bite with a frown, and Neal gave him a questioning look.

"Everything alright, love?"

Crackle glanced down at the toast. "It tastes like home." he acknowledged, the memory feeling foggy in his mind.

Dash picked up the jar and gave it a sniff and then wrinkled his nose. "It smells disgusting." he commented. "What is it made of?"

"Dingo meat and snake venom." Neal replied with a shrug. "It tastes better than it smells. You should take a big spoonful and try it. I promise you'll like it."

Dash set the jar down and slid it back to Neal. "I wouldn't accept food from you even if it was the last food on Earth."

"Ouch." Neal replied with a snort. "Suit yourself, princess."

Neal finished his piece of toast and then frowned at everyone else's food. Reaching over with a fork, he stole one of Theodore's pancakes and then reached for the syrup. Theodore turned a glare at him and he simply smiled up at him sweetly.

"Thanks, Teddy."

"I've hit people for less than that you know." Theodore commented angrily.

"But we're best friends and best friends share." Neal replied.

Theodore rolled his eyes and decided it wasn't worth it to argue. Neal was exhausting to deal with and it was just easier to ignore him. Keeping an arm beside his plate to protect it from further theft, Theodore went back to eating without another word.

"Have you heard from the operatives we're meeting today?" Paper Star demanded, glancing up from her own breakfast.

Crackle gave a nod. "We're meeting her on the roof of the Sandy Gopher parking garage at noon."

"Who are they sending?" Dash asked. "Hopefully not the same two from Istanbul."

"We'll be meeting with The Driver." Crackle responded. "She'll pick up the ruby and then take it to its next location to be auctioned off."

"The Driver is reliable." Dash said with a nod. "She's one of the top operatives."

"This is a valuable exchange and V.I.L.E needs to make sure everything goes smoothly." Crackle said, glancing back up at the television. Firefighters were still fighting the blazing museum and there was no word on the two men responsible. The operatives had likely been picked up by V.I.L.E already or they were in hiding until things blew over. Crackle doubted they'd be appearing in the news.

Neal let out an irritated sigh. He had lived on ice cream and soup for two days straight while his throat healed, and he was still starving. He glanced around the table at everyone else's breakfast and his gaze settled on Roosevelt's huge mound of food.

"Hey, Roosevelt?"

Roosevelt shoveled an entire egg into his mouth and then glanced down at him. "Wot?" he demanded, chewing loudly.

"I think our waitress likes you."

"Hmm?"

"Didn't you notice the way she was smiling at you?"

Roosevelt frowned at him. "No."

"Just look! She's even looking at you now!"

Roosevelt turned around to glance over at their waitress and Neal took that opportunity to steal a sausage off his plate. When Roosevelt turned back around, Neal gave him a smile and took a bite of the sausage. Roosevelt looked confused for a few seconds, but then he realized what Neal had done and he scowled. Narrowing his eyes, he picked up his glass of orange juice and poured it over Neal's head, causing the Kiwi to yelp in surprise. Coughing a couple times after accidentally inhaling juice, Neal looked up in shock as Roosevelt returned to his breakfast without uttering a single word.

"Serves you right." Dash commented. "Nobody wants your greasy hands in their food."

Neal wasn't mad over it and laughed, reaching for a napkin to wipe the juice out of his hair. "Well, at least I'll smell like citrus today." he commented with good nature.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to talk?" Crackle demanded in exasperation. "You only just got your voice back last night."

Telling Neal to stop talking was like asking the Earth to stop spinning, and everyone knew it was pointless to try.

"Just let him lose it again." Dash said with a shrug. "I like him better that way."

"Only because you like the sound of your own voice so much." Neal responded. "You don't like the competition."

"Everyone, hurry up and finish your breakfast." Crackle ordered, already feeling irritable despite it only being eight in the morning. "We still need to go over a few things before we leave for the drop off."

There was a collective groan around the table. Everyone remembered the excruciating five hour plane trip from last mission, not wanting to spend hours and hours going over the same plan.

"No complaining." Crackle snapped. "We need to be prepared."

"There's a fine line between being prepared and being psychotic." Dash muttered under his breath.

Crackle set the crackle rod on the table without a word, and Dash instantly went quiet. Dash always had a hard time holding back his snide comments, and he was constantly getting in trouble for it. Crackle saw the comments as disrespect, and Dash had been shocked five times in the last two days because of it. The warning couldn't have been more clear, and so Dash went back to his breakfast silently.

Paper Star gave a long stretch and slowly got up from her seat. "I'm going outside for some air." she informed them. "I won't go far."

"Are you done with that?" Neal asked, pointing to her plate.

Paper Star stared at him for a moment, and picked up her plate as if she were going to pass it over. Then, while maintaining direct eye contact with Neal, she dumped her leftover food onto the floor. He stared at her in disbelief as she set her empty plate back on the table and then walked away, humming quietly to herself.

"You could have just said no."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Paper Star let out a breath of relief the second she was away from the others. She couldn't stand her teammates and wished a few of them would get killed off. The twins barely shared a brain cell between them, Neal was an absolute idiot, Dash was a whiny prima donna, and Crackle was almost as unhinged as she was. It was taking every bit of her self-control not to get stabby whenever they were fighting. She wanted off this team, but wasn't sure V.I.L.E would agree to it. She knew the methods she used during past missions weren't exactly 'V.I.L.E approved', but she felt proud of her accomplishments anyway. Who cared if she left a body count during every mission? Civilians were of no importance, and they always seemed to get in her way. It was just easier to kill them on sight rather than wait for them to interfere with her mission.

She wandered along the edge of the building, and found herself staring at the mascot of the restaurant. A man was dressed as a fried egg and was dancing along the sidewalk, holding a sign with the daily specials. The sight reminded her of Tokyo where it was pretty standard for most companies to have colourful mascots promoting their businesses. Paper Star cocked her head thoughtfully. She hadn't really thought of Tokyo in a long time, and she wondered what had happened to her old gang. They were all incredibly incompetent and she didn't doubt that they probably all got themselves arrested or killed. Two years was a long time for people constantly fighting in turf wars, and she wondered if her territory had been taken over.

Paper Star missed Tokyo because of the freedom it gave her to hurt anyone she pleased, but she could never return. She'd gotten too bold, and people were starting to notice what she was doing. Her only chance to escape with her life had been to join V.I.L.E, and even they hadn't wanted her at first. Her father had seen to her acceptance when he'd sent her to V.I.L.E for training by calling in favours, but he made it clear she was never to return. Paper Star detested everything about him, his softness towards her was revolting, and she couldn't stand the sight of him. Paper Star knew that she would return one day to Tokyo, but it would be a one way trip and the last thing she would do would be to cut out the heart of her father and watch him die in front of her.

Paper Star clenched her fists and before she even realized she was doing it, she threw a throwing star straight at the mascot. It sliced through the yoke of the egg, and the mascot stiffened and then fell backwards, the restaurant's sign behind him keeping him propped upright. Paper Star stared at him for a few moments, and someone honked their horn as they drove by, waving unknowingly at a dead man. Paper Star smirked in amusement, and then turned away. It would be hours before anyone would realize he was dead.

Her fingers played with a new piece of paper, and she stared at the mascot, knowing how easy it would be to do the same thing with her teammates. They'd never see it coming and she doubted any of them would even get the chance to fight back. She twirled the throwing star in her hand and knew if she killed her whole team, V.I.L.E would come after her for it. She tossed the throwing star at a nearby tree, severing a branch. If only **one** died however...

She threw a second throwing star, severing another branch. If Crackle met with an unfortunate accident, she would have nothing holding her back. The team would be dissolved, and they'd return to V.I.L.E. She could go back to the way things were before this team was ever created. A third star stabbed deeply into the bark of the tree. The question was, how would she get away with it?

"Paper Star!"

She glanced over and saw Crackle waving at her impatiently from the car. Letting out a sigh of irritation, she approached the car and got in without a word.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Crackle pinned the last picture to the wall and then pointed to Carmen. "Alright everyone, we only have half an hour to go over this and so let's make it count!"

He didn't receive any response and so he continued.

"Carmen Sandiego also known as Black Sheep, the Scarlet Shadow, La Femme Rouge and many other aliases. She is the leader of her own team of operatives and the main target of our mission."

"Yeah, we've all met her, love." Neal pointed out from where he was lounging on the bed.

Crackle continued as if he hadn't heard. He pointed to the next picture. "Suhara Takahashi also known as Shadowsan. Former instructor at V.I.L.E academy and traitor."

He pointed to the next photo. "Agent Chase Devineaux of Interpol. He is assumed to be Carmen Sandiego's inside contact within law enforcement."

He moved on, pointing to the pictures one by one. "Sheena Williams also known as Tigress. She is a hand-to-hand combat fighter and a traitor to V.I.L.E. Jean Paul Couture also known as Le Chèvre. He specializes in parkour and hand-to-hand combat. He is a traitor to V.I.L.E. Antonio Hernández also known as El Topo. He attacks from below ground and is a hand-to-hand combat fighter. He is a traitor to V.I.L.E."

Crackle then pointed to two blank pieces of paper. "Carmen Sandiego's mechanic and getaway driver. We don't have any pictures of them, but they are a brother and sister in their early twenties named Zack and Ivy. They have short red hair and freckles. This is all that's known about them."

He moved on and pointed to the last picture. "Mime Bomb, real name unknown. I am not quite sure what his function is within Carmen Sandiego's team. He is also a traitor to V.I.L.E."

Neal snorted in laughter, and Crackle glared over at him and then sighed. "What is it, Neal?" he demanded impatiently.

Neal shook his head in amusement. "Oh nothing, I just think he's adorable."

Everyone turned to stare at him incredulously.

"What?" Neal demanded, noticing the looks. "He **is**, just look at him!"

Everyone continued staring at him like he grew an extra head and so Neal got up and approached the wall. "Look, something here is not like the others. We got the fearless leader who is capable of kicking any one of our arses. We have a valuable mechanic and getaway driver. Then we have a ninja, a seasoned Interpol agent, a psycho cat-lady with claws, an acrobat that can kick your head off, a guy who can claw you in half from below ground, and **then**-" he paused dramatically. "-there's a mime. A **mime**! A smiling little street clown who can't figure his way out of an invisible box. I stand by my statement. It's cute."

Crackle let out a deep sigh. "Alright, moving on. We are outnumbered by nearly double and so we have to think of tactics to take down each of Carmen Sandiego's team. They don't seem to have anyone who attacks from long range and that's where Paper Star and Dash Haber will come in handy. They will be positioned on either end of the fight where they can help their teammates as much as possible. Neal is our most athletic of the group and he will concentrate on taking down Le Chèvre and Tigress. Double Trouble will take down anyone they can get their hands on, and I will focus only on Carmen Sandiego."

"Are we aiming to injure or to kill?" Paper Star demanded.

"To kill." Crackle said. "Their whole team is to be taken down as efficiently as possible."

Paper Star smiled, and gave him a nod. This was definitely going to be fun. If one of her throwing stars accidentally went off target and hit Crackle, then everything would work out exactly as she wanted. She would wait until Carmen Sandiego was dead and then make her move. She only had to be patient for a little while longer.

"Not to be a pessimist, but this doesn't seem very well thought out." Dash commented. "Carmen always seems one step ahead of us, and I think we need to go in with the assumption that she's expecting us."

Crackle gave him a nod. "I agree. Carmen always seems to know more about V.I.L.E's moves than she should." He tacked up another blank piece of paper to the wall. "I think there might be another member of her crew that we're not aware of."

"Someone on the inside?" Neal asked.

Crackle considered that and then shrugged. "Not sure." he admitted. "It could be someone from V.I.L.E feeding her the information, or she could have a tech guy. V.I.L.E does all business dealings through the net, and it's possible a really talented hacker could find out the information."

Theodore scratched at his head. "How do we know which it is?" he asked.

Crackle smiled. "That's easy. We set a trap."

Neal looked thoughtful for a moment. "I can hack a bit myself, and I could always plant false information for them to find."

"You can hack?" Dash asked skeptically.

"Well, I'm not an expert, but I did apprentice under Dr. Bellum for the second term of my training. I still work with her occasionally."

Crackle was surprised. "I didn't know that!" he exclaimed. "Dr. Bellum only takes an interest in students she sees great potential in. You must have really impressed her."

Dash crossed his arms. "Doesn't look like much ever came of it." he commented. "He graduated to become a greasy weirdo."

Neal wasn't bothered by the comment and smiled. "I've been sent on more missions than **any** of you, and my success rate is nothing to sneeze at." he paused and turned his smile to Dash. "And how many missions have **you** completed, Dash Haber?"

Dash flushed, and then looked away. He had mostly been a courier for his entire V.I.L.E career and hadn't seen much action until recently. He had been promised fame and glory when he joined V.I.L.E but he had ended up as Countess Cleo's human accessory. He had been fine with that for a while, but being humiliated by Carmen Sandiego had made him want to get out on the field. To his surprise, the Countess Cleo hadn't stopped him, but she warned him that if his face ever became scarred, he would not be returning to her. If he wasn't so vain, he would have scratched his own face just to spite her.

Crackle could see another argument beginning to brew and so he quickly interrupted, not wanting another fight. "We'll discuss our plans more after the ruby drop-off. Our plane will arrive at three to take us to San Diego, and that should give us plenty of time to get to the airport. Now, grab your stuff, and head to the van."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The parking garage was at the very edge of North Dallas, and it was secluded at the end of a street close to where a shopping mall had once been. The garage was in serious disrepair, and it was the perfect spot for an exchange. As Roosevelt pulled up to the garage, Crackle glanced around, but didn't see any sign of The Driver.

"She's probably on the roof." he said with a frown. "Head up and we'll take a look."

Roosevelt nodded, and then pulled into the garage without a word. The garage was clearly under repairs, and tarps were strung up blocking most of the garage off. Navigating carefully around the tarps, they drove up floor after floor until they finally reached the roof. To their relief, they saw The Driver waiting for them, sitting on the hood of her red sport's car. Seeing them approach, she slid off the hood, and then waited as they drove up and parked beside her. Everyone piled out of the car, and Neal approached her first.

"Heya, Cherise." he greeted with a smile.

"Neal." she responded, giving a disinterested glance down at her phone. "You look well."

"You two know each other?" Theodore asked, looking between them.

"Surrrrre, we used to date." Neal responded, throwing an arm around her shoulders.

She immediately shrugged him off. "No, we didn't." she answered, still not looking away from her phone.

Neal laughed. "Yeah, no we didn't." he agreed. "We worked a few missions together over the years, and that's all."

Crackle reached into his pocket and pulled out the ruby. "We had to go through a lot to get this, please don't let us down."

"I never do." she replied, reaching out to pluck the gem from his hand. She glanced down at it for a moment and then commented. "Nice." as she placed it into her pocket.

"So, Cherise, we were wondering, who were the two idiots in Istanbul?" Neal asked.

"Moose Boy and Otterman."

"I knew it!" Neal cried out, pumping a fist triumphantly. "I totally called it!"

"Who got shot?" Dash asked, frowning.

"Otterman." she replied. "He's in a V.I.L.E run hospital in Bulgaria right now recovering. If they don't get their memories wiped for this, they're going to find themselves assigned the worst job V.I.L.E has to offer."

Neal nodded solemnly. "Dash's launderer."

Dash flashed him a furious look. "I am getting **sick** of your constant-"

"FREEZE! PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!"

They looked up in shock and suddenly there were dozens upon dozens of A.C.M.E agents swarming from every direction.

Crackle let out a curse. "Sandiego must have tipped them off again!" he snarled, glancing to The Driver worriedly. "Get in the car, we'll cover you!"

The Driver gave him a quick nod and ran for her car. As the agents began slowly closing in on them, Crackle glanced around at his team and then gave them a nod.

"Protect The Driver at all costs and make me proud."

Everyone gave him a nod and then separated into different directions, prepared to fight with everything they had. It was Paper Star who made the first move by tossing a handful of throwing stars into the crowd of agents. To her annoyance, she realized the agents were wearing some sort of body armour, and the stars bounced harmlessly off their chests. Every agent was wearing a helmet, and there was no bare skin she could aim for. She scowled and wondered if they'd seen the bodies left behind in Dubai and prepared accordingly. That could be bad news for her.

"Get their helmets off!" she called to the rest of the team as she climbed up onto the roof of their van. "I can't get a shot!"

Double Trouble charged straight into the thick of A.C.M.E and began tossing people aside like a couple wrecking balls, and several A.C.M.E agents stepped forward to confront them. They pulled out metal batons to defend themselves with, and charged at Double Trouble fearlessly. These agents were obviously trained in how to fight hand-to-hand, and the bigger and slower villains were struck over and over. No matter how fast they tried to retaliate, the A.C.M.E agents were faster. Roosevelt fell to his knees as his leg was struck and he let out a bellow of outrage, trying unsuccessfully to grab the man who hit him. Neal glanced over from where he was fighting, saw what was going on and ran to help, knowing he was the quickest out of their team.

Neal kicked and tripped people as fast as he could, leaving the fallen agents for the twins to handle. Dash threw his hat over and over again, destroying the batons one by one. He was suddenly struck from behind and he hit the ground hard, not expecting it. Looking up, he saw a female A.C.M.E agent standing over him, gas gun pointed at his face.

"Put your hands in the air!" she ordered with a strong French accent.

Dash slowly raised his hands in the air, and watched as his hat began returning to him. He smirked at her, and she must have sensed something was wrong because she glanced to her side and saw the hat careening towards her, blades out. She ducked out of the way and Dash caught his hat, and kicked her straight in the face, her helmet flying off from the force. A young woman with short black hair stared up at him in surprise and he smirked at her as he ran for a better spot to attack from.

A throwing star bounced off her shoulder and she looked up just as Paper Star aimed a second shot at her face. She rolled out of the way, and took cover behind a stone column, drawing her weapon.

Crackle stabbed at an agent with his crackle rod and the man immediately screamed as he was electrocuted. Swinging his weapon around like a club, he hit two agent's across their throats, the straps to their helmets snapping off. The moment the helmets fell away, Paper Star took aim, and the men fell to the ground dead.

The Driver suddenly stepped on the gas and she drove straight towards the ramp, Dash having to jump out of her way to avoid being hit. The A.C.M.E agents immediately pulled out a new weapon, and they shot several darts towards the tires of the car, but luckily the shots missed.

"Follow the car!" Crackle bellowed out to his team. "Keep the way clear for her!"

Team Crackle made eye contact with each other, and then chased A.C.M.E behind the car, taking down agent after agent as they did so. The Driver only made it down one floor when she realized A.C.M.E had blocked off the way with their own vehicle. The tarps were all gone, and it was now clear A.C.M.E had been hidden there the whole time. Crackle scowled as he realized they'd fallen straight into A.C.M.E's trap. Having no choice but to proceed, he charged straight for the new wave of agents.

Dash threw his hat from the sidelines, and the saw-blades sliced neatly through several of the dart-guns, and Crackle aimed for those agents first. Neal knew what he had to do and he began running for the truck blocking The Driver's path. Using his slick suit to his full advantage, he rolled past anyone who tried to grab him, bowling them over as he did so. Not even slowing his pace, he dove under the truck and slid under it to the other side. Ignoring the agents who tried to seize him, he kicked out at them and leapt up to onto the truck. He yanked open the truck door, and the driver stared at him in surprise, before Neal tossed him out into the middle of the fight. He threw the truck into reverse, nearly ran over a few people, crashed into a support beam, and then watched as The Driver once again stepped on the gas, speeding through the space he'd created. Kicking open the truck door as several A.C.M.E agents tried to get in, he jumped down and then threw himself back into the fight.

Double Trouble punched and smashed anyone who came near them, and when they saw Neal had moved the truck, they charged over to help defend him. Neal jumped out of the truck once The Driver was past and Roosevelt immediately crawled in, and locked the door. He then turned the truck and began following behind The Driver, running over anyone who stepped in front of him.

Crackle leapt down over the railings and landed on the lower level where once again The Driver discovered she was blocked. Roosevelt stepped on the gas and he crashed the truck into the blockade with such force, one of the cars crashed through the wall of the garage leaving a gaping hole. Once again, The Driver proceeded down a level.

Julia Argent, took a deep breath from where she took cover, and knew that Paper Star was the biggest threat to A.C.M.E right now. The moment any of them lost their helmets, she immediately took them out. Somehow, she needed to take her down before anyone else got hurt.

Keeping an eye on the girl as she watched the fight below, Julia began creeping along behind the various pieces of wreckage, her weapon out and ready to take action. There was a loud boom from below and the whole building shook and Julia saw her chance. Paper Star grabbed onto the railing to steady herself and for the first time, her hands were empty.

Julia jumped out from hiding, carefully aimed her weapon and then pulled the trigger. Paper Star let out a small sound of surprise as she felt a sharp stab, and she reached up a hand to her neck. She pulled out a dart, and she looked over at Julia in outrage, realizing she'd been drugged. She took a shaky step towards Julia, and threw a throwing star straight at the other woman's head. Julia jumped to the side, and Paper Star followed after her, throwing star after star, determined to kill her. Julia couldn't believe the girl was still standing after a direct shot of the sedative, and she knew she had to do something before Paper Star managed to hit her. Paper Star's aim was getting sloppy, and she was staggering a bit, but she didn't slow down once as she continued aiming for Julia.

Several of the shots were mistakenly thrown into the fight, and Dash let out a surprised yelp as one of the stars sliced through his jacket.

"Watch it!" he roared up to her. "You nearly hit me!"

Crackle glanced up at the fight between Paper Star and Julia, and he saw the way his teammate was staggering. She had been drugged and was obviously about to pass out. He looked for someone to help her, and his gaze fell on Neal, knowing how well the other man could climb. "Neal, help Paper Star!" he bellowed out.

Neal looked up from where he was fighting, and saw the trouble Paper Star was in. He got hit in the face for his distraction, and he fell to the ground, barely dodging a baton as it swung for his head. Lashing out with his feet, he tripped the agent about to attack him, and then yelled out.

"Little busy here! Send the princess!"

"Drop dead, Neal!" Dash snarled out from where he was fighting several A.C.M.E agents of his own. "I can't lose my position right now. I'm defending Double Trouble."

"Help her **now **Neal! Get up there!" Crackle ordered.

Neal let out a curse, threw himself to the ground so he could trip his attackers, and then gave another look up at Paper Star who was staggering like she was about to collapse. Abandoning his current fight, he began running for the ramp to help her, just as there was another massive boom from below. The building shook dangerously and as Neal ran, he saw the floor above them was starting to crack. His gaze shifted over to Dash and he saw the other man was standing directly below the crack, not realizing the danger he was in. The building gave a shudder and Neal saw the floor was beginning to come down. Making a split second decision, he changed direction and threw himself at Dash just as the ceiling crashed down around them. They hit the floor hard and rolled as chunks of concrete and metal fell down all around them. Neal felt something heavy hit his back, and he rolled again, his slick suit helping get them farther away. He knew he should have felt pain, but the adrenaline made him shake it off, and he glanced down at Dash who stared up at him with wide eyes.

"Careful, Fancy." Neal teased, rolling off him.

Taking a deep breath, Neal glanced back up, but couldn't see Paper Star any longer. Did he just get her killed by choosing to save Dash? Most of the floor above was gone, and Neal got to his feet, knowing he still had to do what he could. Leaping up, he grabbed a hold of an exposed metal pipe and began climbing up, hoping it wasn't too late for Paper Star.

Dash stared at the pile of rubble that had almost landed on him and then up at Neal who was climbing up to the next floor. Neal had just saved his life. Dash scowled as he realized the insufferable idiot would probably **never** let this go. Glancing around, he saw most A.C.M.E agents on his floor had been flattened in the collapse and so he rolled to his feet and headed down to help the others.

The Driver had made it down to the fifth floor, and was once again blocked by vehicles. She pulled over as far as possible as she saw Roosevelt coming behind her, and the man fearlessly crashed the truck into the other cars, sending them flying out of the way. The truck finally died and Roosevelt had no choice but it get out of the truck to continue fighting.

"THEODORE!" he yelled to his brother.

Theodore glanced over at his brother and immediately began fighting his way over to him. Roosevelt tipped his chin in the direction of the cars and Theodore nodded, understanding what they needed to do. Theodore could see Dash running down the ramp towards them and called out to him.

"Cover us!"

Dash nodded, and threw his hat at the agents, slicing the straps on their helmets, and dodging as someone took a swing at him. He saw an agent blast his hat into pieces with some sort of weapon and he realized he was going to have to physically protect himself from this point on. Dash lashed out with a fist, and hit the agent in the face, feeling as the man's nose crunch beneath his hand. It had been a long time since Dash had fought with his fists, and he stepped aside as he was attacked, relying on muscle memory as he swung out his hand, once again landing a solid hit.

The Driver watched as the twins approached the first car and each seized an end of it. To her complete shock, they lifted the car into the air and then tossed it aside, shattering another hole in the wall of the garage. As Dash fought to keep the A.C.M.E agents away from the twins, they grabbed another car and tossed it out the hole. Finally they pushed the truck out the hole and The Driver's way was now cleared. She stepped on the gas without hesitation, almost hitting Dash for a second time and he barely stepped back as she plowed over a few A.C.M.E agents.

Crackle was a floor down, fighting the agents in an attempt to clear the way before The Driver reached him. She sped by him, running people over as she went and he gave her a nod as he jumped over the railing to follow her down. The building gave another shudder, and Crackle had a feeling they had knocked a few too many holes through the walls. Knowing they were now on the third floor, and getting closer, he fought even harder electrocuting agent after agent, ignoring how tired he was getting.

Neal pulled himself up to the 9th floor and glanced around for Paper Star. Spotting her collapsed on the ground dangerously close to a hole in the floor, he began making his way over to her.

"Stop where you are!"

Neal slowly turned around, and he saw Julia standing just behind him, gun raised to his head. He couldn't tell if it was a real gun or a dart gun, and he stared at her, suddenly recognizing her. It was the woman from Dubai! The one who had given him the Heimlich Maneuver. She must have recognized him as well because she frowned at him in disapproval. He eyed her, trying to determine if she had the nerve to pull the trigger and he had his answer a moment later when he saw her finger begin to squeeze. Dropping to the floor in an instant, he spun himself around and knocked her feet out from under her.

She fell to the ground and Neal grabbed the gun out of her hand and threw it over the railing. Julia stared up at him and then kicked out as hard as she could. The heel of her shoe caught him directly in the crotch and Neal fell to the ground in absolute agony. As he clutched at himself and moaned in misery, Julia approached, pulling out a pair of handcuffs.

"You're under arrest." she told him.

Neal simply groaned in pain. "Bloody hell!" he whined. "You completely carked my balls."

"I'll take you to the hospital once you're cuffed." she told him, hoping she hadn't seriously injured him. "Raise your hands above your head."

Neal simply let out another moan and muttered a few curses. Julia reached towards one of his arms, and Neal suddenly turned and kicked out at her, hitting her solidly in the chest with both feet.

Julia stumbled backwards, and would have caught herself before she fell, but the backs of her legs hit a pile of rubble, and she suddenly found herself falling towards the railing. Unable to stop herself, she fell backwards over the railing, her eyes wide with horror as she flailed uselessly, knowing it was a nine story drop to the ground. She barely had time to let out a gasp of fear, before she felt someone grab her hand. Looking up, she saw Neal danging over the edge of the railing, holding onto her hand, his grip solid.

"Careful, love." he said between clenched teeth. "It's a long drop."

She simply stared up at him as he struggled to pull her up one-handed, and once he got her hands high enough to reach the railing, she grabbed on. He released her and they both climbed up, and the second she was safely back on the floor, Neal handcuffed her arm to the railing. Neal stood over her as she stared up at him with wide eyes, wondering why he had saved her. He gave her an unreadable look and then turned to head towards Paper Star. He lifted her up so he could carry her on his back, and then he was heading for the collapsed floor to climb down.

"Wait!" Julia called after him.

Neal glanced back at her.

"Why did you...save me?" she asked.

"A life for a life." he told her, turning away. "Now we're even. Don't try to stop me again."

The moment he was gone, Julia placed her thumbs against the reader on the cuffs and they popped open. The building gave another groan and she knew it was probably time to evacuate before the whole garage collapsed. She headed for the hole in the floor, glanced down and then began climbing.

Crackle took a hard hit from a baton and he winced, feeling his right shoulder dislocate. Switching the crackle rod to his other hand, he continued fighting, knowing they couldn't fail now. Dash and Double Trouble were working together to clear the way for The Driver and they were now on the second floor. The building shook and another floor above came down with a deafening crash. Crackle glanced up wondering where Neal and Paper Star were, seeing no sign of them.

Dash's knuckles were bloody despite the fact he had hurriedly wrapped them from pieces of his shredded shirt, but he continued fighting, knowing how close they were to the ground floor. He held a piece of the broken blade from his hat, and used it to slice the body armour and helmets off the agents as he fought them. His entire body ached from over-exertion, and he was starting to slow down, not sure how much longer he could keep this up. Double Trouble were both covered in blood from repeated attacks, but they too didn't stop, throwing people and cars out of their way without pause. Another floor fell down from above and bits of concrete and dust rained down on them, making the air smothering and difficult to see through. Roosevelt fell to his knees as he struggled to lift the car, and Theodore shot him a worried glance. The twins had endured being tased, beaten and stabbed at and they were almost to the point of collapse.

"You okay?" Theodore asked him in concern.

Roosevelt slammed a man into the wall and gave him a pained nod. Struggling back to his feet, he let out a howl of frustration and lifted with all his might. The twins were able to lift the last car out of the way, and The Driver sped past them, heading for the final floor.

Crackle gave another glance up, but still saw no sign of Neal and Paper Star. Had they gotten crushed on one of the collapsed floors? Knowing there was no way he could go back for them, Crackle hurried after the car, tired but giving the fight everything he had. There weren't too many A.C.M.E agents left and to their relief they only saw one car blocking the way on the first floor. Dash and Crackle were almost exhausted to the point of fainting, and so they stood back to back as they fought, defending each other to the best of their ability.

Theodore and Roosevelt approached the car, their arms in absolute agony, but determined to lift this one last car. They struggled at the extreme weight and when they finally had the car off the ground, they threw it at a group of A.C.M.E agents, crushing them as the car smashed through the wall. This was as much as the garage could take and it began teetering and groaning, as it began to collapse.

"GO!" Crackle yelled at The Driver. "GO NOW!"

The Driver gave him a salute and then stepped on the gas and sped out of the parking garage, her Hennessey Venom F5 quickly gaining speed as soon as she hit the road. Crackle knew that there was no catching her now, The Driver could out-maneuver anyone in a car, and the fact she was driving one of the world's fastest cars also helped in that matter. Letting out a breath of relief, Crackle knew they had succeeded in their mission.

"Everyone out!" he yelled out to his team. "The building is coming down!"

"What about Neal?" Dash yelled, glancing upwards at the quickly collapsing garage.

"We have to leave him." Crackle said, grabbing Dash by the arm and pulling him towards the exit.

The moment they were outside, they saw the building shudder one last time and then the whole building collapsed in on itself with a thunderous BOOM. Neal who was on the second floor as the building began to collapse, threw himself out one of the holes the Twins had created, landing on top of Paper Star hard and he rolled from the force, losing his grip on her. He looked up just in time to see Julia leap out of the hole after him and then the whole building collapsed. Laying on the grass and panting, he stared at the rubble in front of him knowing how close he'd come to being crushed. Incredibly tired, he laid there for a moment, before he remembered he'd dropped Paper Star. Letting out a groan of complaint, he sat up, and waited as the dust around them began to settle. He glanced over and saw Paper Star had landed nearby and he slowly rolled to his knees, exhausted and sore in places he didn't even think possible. He saw Julia sprawled on the grass nearby, but ignored her as he crawled over to Paper Star. Julia watched him with wary eyes, and then began slowly crawling away from him.

Neal rolled Paper Star over and gave her a quick look-over. She didn't seem to be noticeably injured, and so he once again lifted her up so he could carry her on his back. She was a small woman, but Neal was tired and sore and her weight felt staggering as he struggled to his feet.

Crackle stared at the rubble in front of them and felt an emotion he didn't understand. It was an emotion to do with his fallen teammates, but he had no idea what it was. It left a painful feeling his chest, and Crackle clenched his fists, fighting against it. He completed the mission which should have pleased him, but instead his thoughts were on Neal and Paper Star. The more he thought of them, the worse the feeling became, and he frowned at the rubble, wishing he could have saved them. They had made him proud in the fight, but now they were gone. His team was fractured.

"Think anyone will notice we were here?" Neal spoke up from beside him, his tone joking.

Crackle spun around and saw a bloody and battered Neal smiling at him with Paper Star on his back. Crackle let out a deep breathe of relief and smiled at him, the bad feeling disappearing instantly, and he welled with pride at his team. They had succeeded and they had all survived.

Theodore clapped Neal on the shoulder with a tired smile, and then took Paper Star from him, the girl barely weighing anything to him.

Dash stared at Neal for a moment and then quickly hid his relief behind a scowl. "Of course **you're** the one who was late." he called over, crossing his arms. "Making us wait for you."

Neal simply grinned at him. "Looking a bit scruffy there, Dash. Did you actually fight someone for once?"

"Why do you **always** have to-"

"Is that our van?" Theodore suddenly interrupted.

They turned to look and saw an upsidedown van teetering on the very top of the rubble.

"Huh." Crackle simply said as he watched it roll down the rubble towards them.

Stepping aside as it rolled past, everyone stared at it in surprise.

"Think it still works?" Dash asked hopefully.

The roof was almost completely caved in and it was dented on all sides, but Crackle approached it thoughtfully. "Double Trouble, can you flip the van over for us?"

Setting Paper Star down on the ground, the twins eagerly approached the van to give it a try. They both gave a push to the side of the van and it tipped back over the right way. Taking the key out of his pocket, Crackle opened the driver's side door and put the key in the ignition. The engine made a loud noise as it struggled to start, but then it fizzled out. Popping the hood, he got out of the car, and then walked to the front to take a look. Lifting the hood, he glanced down inside and then shook his head with a frown.

"Hmm..." Crackle said, thoughtfully.

"Can you fix it?" Theodore asked, glancing inside.

"Nope, it's definitely **not** going to work." Crackle replied. " The motor is completely ruined. We'll have to find another car."

"I think there was a half-ton parked at the house down the road." Theodore suggested.

"Okay, we have no choice." Crackle said. "We'll go check it out. I can hotwire the truck if it works."

As they pulled their bags out of the ruined van, Crackle glanced all around. "Did we kill every single A.C.M.E agent on site?"

"I didn't see anyone escape the building." Dash confirmed.

Neal glanced over and could see Julia hiding behind a tree, watching them with wide eyes. She could clearly hear every word they said, and knew they wouldn't hesitate to kill her. Neal turned away. "Yeah, they're all dead." he agreed.

Crackle was even more pleased. "Good. No witnesses."

"I need a shower." Dash commented tiredly.

"Yes, you do." Neal agreed, earning him a glare.

"Hurry up and grab your bags and let's get going. We have a flight to San Diego to catch!" Crackle said excitedly.

He received some tired mutters in reply and then they were walking away down the road. Ten minutes later, they were speeding down the highway in a stolen truck, Crackle driving and everyone else fast asleep in the bed of the truck.

Julia was the only surviving agent on site, and it took her several long minutes to calm down enough to pull out her communicator pen. The pen was snapped in half, and when she pulled out her cellphone, the screen was cracked beyond repair. She had no way to reach A.C.M.E, and she slowly got to her feet and headed towards the road. Having no other option, she began walking.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**Note: Team Crackle have been permanently banned from that diner.**

**A huge thank you to Cinnalando for drawing the awesome pic of Neal and Dash for this chapter! You made this chapter much better and you have my thanks!**

**Wow, it's been three long chapters in a row. I keep going way overboard! lol**

**Don't forget to leave a comment if you liked the chapter! :D**

**The next update will be within a week.**


	8. The Unknown Mime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> If you squint a bit, you can find a plot in here somewhere. Finally, we're getting closer to the two teams meeting lol Make sure to read the note at the bottom of this chapter.
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 8**

**The Unknown Mime**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

"I found him." Player announced.

"What?" Carmen asked in confusion. "Found who?"

"I found out who Mime Bomb is."

Carmen was instantly wide awake. "What information do you have?" she demanded, sitting up in bed.

"It's kinda something I have to show you." Player replied. "Go to your laptop and I'll send you the information."

Carmen scrambled over to her laptop and as soon as she unlocked it, pages and pages of information began flooding her screen. The first thing she laid eyes on was a missing person's poster.

"It looks like someone **has** been looking for him after all." Player stated. "An older sister. I found a poster that was printed in English."

Carmen stared at the image of the freckle-faced boy, and she immediately knew this was Mime Bomb. He was no older than seven or eight in the picture, and looked extremely anxious like he didn't want his picture taken. The next thing that Carmen noticed was that the name was blacked out on the poster. Frowning, she glanced at the rest of the information.

'**Age 7'**

**'Hair: Ginger'**

**'Eyes: Blue'**

**'Weight: Approximately 3 Stone**

**'D.O.B-September 21st 1998'**

**'Missing since October 12th 2005'**

**'Last known location: Cardiff, Wales'**

**'Suspected Runaway'**

"So Mime Bomb is Welsh...but why is his name blacked out?" Carmen asked. "What's Mime Bomb's real name?"

"This is why I wanted to show you everything as soon as possible." Player replied. "I found Mime Bomb, but someone tried **really** hard to erase all traces of him."

Carmen furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"

"Every piece of documentation that contains his name has been blacked out."

Dozens of pages appeared on her screen and Carmen began going through them, seeing a birth certificate, school report cards, registration forms, and medical forms all with the name blacked out.

"There's no record of him at all between the ages of 8 until 12. It's as if he completely disappeared for four years before he stole Jason Felix Smyth's identity when he entered the school for the deaf." Player informed her. "No one knows what happened to him."

"What about his family?" Carmen asked, frowning at the picture. "Haven't they been looking for him?"

"His father is unknown on the birth certificate, but it looks like his mother was receiving some support in the form of cash each month. She made large cash deposits on the same day every month, and that's what she used to support her family. Before Mime Bomb was born, his family was incredibly poor and were struggling just to get by. One week after he was born, suddenly his family were being provided with a substantial amount of money."

"Strange..." Carmen said thoughtfully. "What else did you find out?"

"Mime Bomb has a half-sister named Alys Catrin Firth who is five years older than him." A picture of a pretty, young, blond-haired girl appeared on her screen. The girl looked to be about thirteen or fourteen in the picture, and she looked nothing at all like Mime Bomb. "Her father David John Firth died in a tractor accident when she was two, and left behind large debts from a failed harvest. He was the sole provider for the family and when he died, that's when the family began struggling."

"And what can you tell me about his mother?" Carmen asked, hoping to understand this strange mystery.

"Mime Bomb's mother never remarried after David's death, and she wasn't able to secure a well-paying job. She worked as a waitress until the birth of Mime Bomb. Her name was Eilian Llian Firth." A picture of a beautiful red-haired woman with freckles appeared on the screen, and Carmen saw Mime Bomb was the spitting image of her. She had mischievous blue eyes, and the way she smirked at the camera told told them everything of her fun-loving nature.

"Was?" Carmen repeated with a frown.

"She died in a car crash just before Mime Bomb went missing in 2005. Her car hit a patch of ice and the car slammed into a tree, killing her instantly on impact. His sister Alys was in the car and survived the crash, but she was permanently paralyzed from the waist down."

"That's horrible." Carmen said, feeling sympathy for everything the family must have gone through.

"Up until his mother died, Mime Bomb was enrolled in a crazy amount of extracurricular activities. Every day of the week he was doing something different, and his family's schedule completely revolved around his activities. He was in an art program, drama class, violin lessons, gymnastics, dance, swimming, track and field, and get this, **choir**. Mime Bomb was in a **choir**. After his mother died, he completely dropped off the map; no classes, no school, nothing."

"Where were Mime Bomb and Alys sent to live after their mother died?"

"The records show that the two siblings were sent to live with their maternal grandmother just days after the accident. Alys was sent away to a private boarding school in September of 2005, and Mime Bomb suddenly disappeared a month later."

"Was he injured in the car crash perhaps?" Carmen asked, feeling concerned.

A news article popped up on her screen. "It says that he was at his drama class when it happened. His mother and sister were on their way to pick him up." Player replied. "No records I've seen suggest he'd been injured in any way."

Carmen clicked on several of the folders on her screen,and pictures of Mime Bomb's childhood popped up. She paused on a picture of him about five or six years old, making a silly face at the camera and then she frowned.

"None of this makes any sense." she stated. "What happened to him? Who is trying to erase his name?"

"I think the only people you could ask is Mime Bomb himself or perhaps his sister. She's still living in Cardiff. She's been trying to investigate his disappearance for years but everything she posts online gets censored. I was able to find a few photos when I hacked into her pc and one short home video. Everything else has been censored or deleted."

Carmen shook her head. "I don't think it would be a good idea to contact her without Mime Bomb's permission. As it is, we're pushing the boundaries of snooping into his personal life."

Carmen saw a video file on her screen and she clicked on it curiously.

"You may want to turn your volume down if you're going to watch that." Player warned.

Carmen did as she was told and saw a toddler fumbling with the camera before setting it down on a table. She realized it was Mime Bomb at about three or four years old.

"Aw." Carmen said, smiling. "He's so little!"

"You're not going to think he's so cute in about ten seconds." Player warned.

Mime Bomb set an empty glass on the table and then frowned at it with extreme concentration. He cleared his throat dramatically and then sucked in a deep breath. He then let out an ungodly toddler screech and held the note longer than should have been possible. Carmen quickly turned the volume down even lower. Finally stopping, Mime Bomb took another deep breath and then screeched again, this time at an even higher note. When that too failed, he tried again, this time so high that Carmen was certain her ears were going to bleed.

A moment later, Mime Bomb's mother peeked into the room in the back of the shot giving her son an incredulous look.

[["Oh, sweet child of mine, who I totally do not want to gag with a sock right now, what are you doing?"]] she asked in Welsh, approaching the table. [["Is that my camera?!"]]

[["I'm gonna break the glass."]] Mime Bomb answered, giving a glare to the glass in question.

[["Are you trying to shatter the glass with your voice?"]] she asked him in amusement.

Mime Bomb nodded enthusiastically.

[["Sweet, noisy child of mine. You're not shattering **glass**, you're shattering **eardrums**. Please stop making that horrible pterodactyl screech before you give mommy a reason to search for a gag."]]

Mime Bomb giggled.

[["Why were you recording this?"]] she asked in amusement, looking into the camera.

"I record all my work for posterity." he answered solemnly in English.

His mother blinked in surprise and then began laughing hard. [["Where in the world did you hear **that**?"]] she asked. [["Do you even know what it means?"]]

Mime Bomb shook his head. [["No."]]]

[["Did someone say that to you? Where did you learn it?"]]

"From daddy. He says he always uses a camera at work so he can record for posterity." Mime Bomb answered, once again speaking in English.

Carmen did not miss the way Mime Bomb's mother suddenly stiffened.

The voice of an older woman suddenly shouted from the other room. [[Tell the boy to speak in Welsh! We don't speak English in this house!"]]

Both Mime Bomb and his mother rolled their eyes. His mother's expression then turned serious. [["When did he say that?"]] she questioned.

[["Last night."]]

[["Have you been calling daddy without my permission?"]] she demanded.

A worried look entered the toddler's eyes. [["Erm...no?"]]

His mother let out a deep sigh. [["Sweetling, you never call daddy at work. **Never**. He calls us, but we do **not** call him."]]

[["Why?"]]

[["He's far too busy to be interrupted, and calls up North are expensive. Did he get mad at you?"]]

Mime Bomb shook his head. [["No, he was just a bit surprised. He told me he's going to visit for Christmas next week, and that he was going to bring me a truck."]]

The mother suddenly seemed on edge. [["And what did you say to him?"]] she asked hesitantly.

[["I told him I don't like trucks."]] Mime Bomb answered with a frown. [["I told him allll about drama class, and how I want to be an actor! I said I want a barbie makeup and costume kit 'cause I like dressing up."]]

His mother now looked even more worried. [["...and what did he say when you told him that?"]]

[["He said he would buy me the deluxe one if that's what I wanted."]]

His mother let out a breath of relief. [["Promise me you won't call him again, okay Sweetling? Your father is very busy."]]

[["Daddy said I can call him anytime I want."]] the boy defended.

[["And I'm saying you **can't**."]] she answered firmly. [["You can call him if I'm in the room with you, but never by yourself, understood?"

[["Okay."]] Mime Bomb responded with a shrug, clearly not understanding.

He then turned his attention back to the glass and stared at it intently. Just as he was sucking in a massive lungful of air, his mother put her hand over his mouth.

[["Oh no you don't, you little pterodactyl! No more noises that make mommy want to cry. How about if you show me the picture you drew at art class instead?"]]

[["Okay!"]] Mime Bomb exclaimed excitedly. [["I'll go get it!"]]

As he raced from the room out of sight, Mime Bomb's mother reached for the camera. [["Lord, give me patience."]] she mumbled as she picked it up. A second later, the video ended.

"I can't speak Welsh and so I wasn't sure what they were saying." Player told her. "Could you understand any of that?"

Carmen nodded. "Yes, one of my nannies was Welsh." she responded. "Mime Bomb was trying to shatter a glass with his voice and his mother did not appreciate it."

"I can't imagine she did." Player answered with a laugh.

"There was something odd about the video. She found out Mime Bomb had been calling his father and she was upset over it. She seemed afraid, and she made him promise he would never call him again."

"So I was right. The father **was** paying child support. I wonder why he's not on the birth certificate? There's absolutely no paper trail that I can find that even hints at who he could be."

"Something fishy was definitely going on." Carmen agreed. "Do you think his father kidnapped Mime Bomb after his mother died?"

"He would be my first suspect." Player said. "Could you send me a translation of everything said in the video?"

Carmen nodded. "Sure thing."

"I'm going to do more research on this and then get back to you with what I find. This whole thing smells like a villainous plot, and I want to know why someone's been trying to erase all traces of Mime Bomb. His father must be someone incredibly important." Player said. "You should try talking with Mime Bomb about it."

Carmen hesitated. "I don't know if that's such a good idea." she said hesitantly. "These memories could be traumatic for him."

"Hmm." Player said thoughtfully. "Maybe you could just hint at a few things and see how he reacts?"

Carmen frowned. "I can try..." she answered, feeling like Mime Bomb was not going to react well.

"I'll let you get back to sleep, and I'll check in with you later."

"Okay, thanks, Player." Carmen answered.

When the com went silent, she stared at the pictures on her screen sadly, wanting to help Mime Bomb, but having no idea what to do. She typed up a transcript for Player and then emailed it to him, hoping the boy could find out more information about this.

Mime Bomb hadn't been sleeping well, and Carmen wondered if he was awake. Slowly getting up from her desk, she left her room and crossed the hallway to Zack and Mime Bomb's room. Quietly opening the door, she peered in and saw both of her friends were fast asleep. Mime Bomb looked peaceful and she wondered if he had gone his first night without nightmares. Not wanting to disturb him, she silently backed out of the room and closed the door.

Knowing she was now wide awake, Carmen headed for the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. She remained at the kitchen table until Shadowsan came out a while later later. He seemed surprised to see her up that early, and gave her a worried look.

"Is everything all right?"

Carmen gave him a tired smile. "Just couldn't sleep." she answered. "There's coffee if you want any."

Shadowsan had never been a fan of coffee and instead began preparing himself a pot of tea. When it was steeping, he placed the pot on the table and then took a seat across from her.

"Tell me what's wrong." he said gently. "I can't help if you don't tell me."

Carmen let out a deep sigh. "Player found out who Mime Bomb is." she answered.

Shadowsan frowned. "I wasn't aware you were investigating him."

"I just wanted to know more about him, but the information we found out was not good."

"Most operatives did not come from good homes." Shadowsan explained. "This is why most leave their old lives behind."

Carmen took a sip of her coffee. "No, he seemed to come from a good home until his mother passed away." she replied. "It looks like he was kidnapped after his mother died, and he simply disappeared for four years. There is something really strange about his father, and I think he was part of some sort of criminal empire or someone of importance. Something happened to Mime Bomb during his four year absence and I think this is the key to why he doesn't speak."

Shadowsan frowned. "He was kidnapped?"

"When he was seven years old, he went missing from his grandmother's house and there was no sign of him until he was almost twelve years old. No paper trail, nothing at all to show where he went. He just all of a sudden reappeared in London with a stolen identity and was enrolled into a school for the deaf. Every single document with Mime Bomb's name has been censored and it looks like someone was trying to delete his existence."

A troubled look crossed Shadowsan's face. "There are several child trafficking rings in Europe." he replied. "This may not be a thing you want to investigate with too much depth. I investigated kidnappings once and found there was a company in Russia stealing children. I stopped my investigations when I realized the company had ties to V.I.L.E. I think they were called Volkov or something similar. The results of my search were very bleak and none of the children survived. V.I.L.E has done many monstrous things over the years."

Carmen shook her head. "No, I don't think anything like that happened to Mime Bomb, I think his father took him. He was secretly supporting the family with a **lot** of money, and was in regular contact with his son. The mother didn't seem to fully trust him, and she almost seemed afraid. I'm worried there's another criminal organization that we don't know about. Perhaps the mafia, or maybe something linked with V.I.L.E."

Shadowsan's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Is there any evidence to support this?"

"Player is researching it now." Carmen replied. "He wants me to ask Mime Bomb about it, but I don't think I should."

"Asking an operative about their past is a touchy subject." Shadowsan agreed.

"I'm thinking about just hinting that I know who he is and then waiting to see if he offers me any information." Carmen said. "I'm just worried this could make him go into another panic attack."

"Trust your judgement." Shadowsan replied, pouring himself a cup of tea. "If you suspect there's another criminal empire out there, then this needs to be investigated. You don't **need** to ask Mime Bomb, but he might get angry if you continue looking into his past without his permission."

Carmen let out a deep sigh. "You're right." she agreed. "I'll try to find a way to bring it up to him once he wakes up."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Mime awoke to someone roughly shaking his shoulder. Blinking tiredly, he looked up to see Zack hovering over him, smiling widely.

"No nightmares!" Zack said proudly. "You slept the whole night!"

Mime Bomb realized he was right and was surprised.

"Remember that you have a 15 minutes morning appointment just to check-in with Dr. Brownswell." Zack informed him. "Make sure to tell her about your great night. Your appointment in in five minutes. You do your appointment and I'll start breakfast. You feel like having an omelet?"

Mime Bomb sat up and rubbed at his eyes, feeling more rested than he had in weeks. He gave Zack a distracted nod and then stretched as he swung his legs around the edge of the bed.

"Carmen's laptop is probably in her room." Zack told him as he headed for the door. "I'm gonna drown the omelet in cheese and bacon."

Once he was alone, Mime Bomb slowly got to his feet and then gave another stretch. His appointment with Dr. Brownswell last night had gone a lot better than the first time, and he'd made it through the whole session without hanging up on her. He'd been in a good mood from his day out with Zack, and so the session hadn't seemed all that terrible. Dr. Brownswell decided she wanted him to check in with her every morning just so he could tell her how he slept, and from there she could figure out if he needed time to speak with her later on.

Mime Bomb was wearing his new striped pajamas he'd bought the day before, and he didn't bother getting dressed as he padded barefoot across the hall to Carmen's room. He knocked on her door and when there was no answer, he peered inside and saw the room was empty. Glancing around, he spotted the laptop on her desk and headed over to grab it. Just as he reached out to take it, his eyes fell on the images on the screen and he froze.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Zack whistled happily to himself as he entered the kitchen. Carmen looked up from her bowl of cereal and gave him a smile.

"How did he do last night?" she asked.

Zack flashed her a grin. "He slept the whole night without a single nightmare!"

Carmen was relieved. "Oh, thank goodness. He really needs a few days with a good night's sleep. I guess the doctor was right and he really needed a relaxation day."

"Yeah, yesterday was fun." Zack said, pulling the carton of eggs out of the fridge. "I don't think I've ever seen Mime Bomb smile like that."

"He still sleeping?" Carmen asked, taking a bite of cereal.

"Naw, he had that morning appointment with the doctor, remember? He's talking with her now."

Carmen dropped her spoon in horror, having completely forgotten about the appointment. Without a single word, she got up and bolted for her bedroom as fast as she could, hoping to make it to the laptop before Mime Bomb. She threw open the door and was met with the sight of Mime Bomb standing in front of her desk, simply staring at the laptop motionlessly.

"Mime Bomb!" she called out in a panic.

He didn't move in the slightest, and Carmen cautiously approached, unsure of what his reaction was going to be. She looked to the screen and saw he was staring intently at the picture of his mother, his expression unreadable. Zack barged into the room and then stopped, having no idea what was going on.

"I'm so sorry!" Carmen said to Mime Bomb. "I didn't mean for you to see any of this!"

Mime Bomb still didn't move or give any sort of reaction. Zack approached and looked over Mime Bomb's shoulder.

"Who's that?" he asked.

Carmen gave an uncertain glance to Mime Bomb and she didn't answer. Zack frowned and studied Mime Bomb for a moment, and he didn't like the way his friend was staring at the photo. His eyes looked haunted, and Zack put an arm around his shoulders reassuringly.

"What happened?" he demanded.

Carmen placed a hand on Mime Bomb's arm. "I'm sorry." she said again. "I'll close all this for you, and then we can talk about it."

Carmen reached towards the laptop and to her complete shock Mime Bomb harshly shoved her away, before she could touch it. Zack still had no idea what was going on and was aghast.

"Mime Bomb!" he cried out. "What's going on? You don't hit girls...unless they're V.I.L.E agents trying to kill you."

"It's fine, Zack." Carmen assured him. "I understand why he's angry with me."

"Yeah, well I don't!" Zack protested. "Someone explain what happened, because I'm starting to freak out over here!"

Carmen took a deep breath. "I looked into Mime Bomb's past, and I left the research on my computer screen. I forgot about his doctor's appointment and I never meant for him to see it."

Mime Bomb clenched his good hand into a fist, but he still didn't move. Zack frowned at Carmen, and then looked back to the screen. Understanding crossed his face, and he knew exactly who the woman was in the picture.

"She's very beautiful." he told Mime Bomb. "You look a lot like her."

Mime Bomb finally turned his gaze away from the screen, and stared at Zack who offered him a hesitant smile. "Do you want to keep looking at the pictures for a while?" Zack asked.

Mime Bomb nodded, his gaze returning to the screen.

"Do you want us to leave?"

He gave him another nod.

Zack rested a hand on Mime Bomb's shoulder. "Will you be alright if we leave you alone?" he questioned. "Promise me you'll be alright."

Mime Bomb nodded for a third time and made a crossing motion on his chest. That was enough for Zack and he gave his shoulder a squeeze before stepping away. "You should take the laptop into our bedroom." he suggested. "Look all you want, and when you're done, we can have a talk."

Zack then motioned for Carmen to follow him out of the room.

"I'm sorry." Carmen said again, following behind Zack.

Zack didn't say a word to Carmen until they reached the kitchen, and then he rounded on her. "Not cool, Carmen!" he hissed. "His mother's **dead**, isn't she? Ivy gets that same look on her face whenever she looks at pictures of our parents!"

Carmen nodded. "Yes, she's dead." she confirmed with a guilty frown. "I didn't mean for him to see any of that!"

Zack crossed his arms. "Why were you digging into his past?" he demanded. "Mime Bomb's one of us now, and it's not fair to do that to him!"

"I thought I could help him if I knew more about what happened to him." Carmen said quietly. "I just wanted to help."

Zack's expression softened. "I know you did." he replied. "But you should have asked him first. He'll talk about his past when and if he wants to. He had such a good day yesterday and now he has to deal with this. I'll check on him in a few minutes just to make sure he's okay."

Carmen nodded. "There's a lot I need to talk to him about, but I'll wait until he's ready."

Zack looked annoyed, but he still gave her a nod. Crossing the kitchen to the stove, he picked up an egg and then cracked it into the pan.

"Hopefully he's still hungry." he said more to himself than Carmen.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Le Chèvre glanced across the room where El Topo was laying on his bed facing away from him. He had never seen El Topo this angry before, and it honestly took him by surprise. The normally mild tempered Latino had raked him over the coals the night before, and then he'd gone to bed, refusing to listen to a word he said in his own defense. It honestly stung that El Topo refused to listen, and Le Chèvre had gone to bed himself, feeling self-pity and anger. What hurt more than anything, was when El Topo had separated their beds and moved his as far away from him as he could. They had pushed their beds together the moment they were given the room, and now the space between the beds felt a mile wide.

Le Chèvre had not slept well, and he had a feeling El Topo hadn't either. When the sun was finally up, Le Chèvre let out a sigh, and sat up.

"Antonio? I would like to talk." he said, knowing the other man was awake as well.

El Topo rolled over to face him, his expression still angry.

"I can't do this any more." Le Chèvre told him.

El Topo hurriedly sat up, eyes wide. "What are you talking about, Jean Paul?" he demanded.

"This life isn't meant for me." Le Chèvre replied, gesturing around. "I am a criminal, and I don't belong here."

"You're **wrong**." El Topo said firmly. "You **do** belong. You don't need to be a criminal, you can be a hero instead. We can steal every cent from V.I.L.E, and actually help people! We will do it together with our new family."

"You misunderstood me." Le Chèvre said softly. "I don't **want** to belong. I want to leave."

El Topo just stared at him.

"Every second I'm here simply feels **wrong**, and I feel like I'm slowly being suffocated. I can't stand it anymore, and I want to return to being a criminal."

El Topo's expression darkened. "You're too stubborn to admit you're scared, and so you're running away!" he accused.

Le Chèvre scoffed.

"It's true." El Topo insisted. "You went through a horrible and scary thing when you were kidnapped. They hurt you, they chained you up, and now you found out your injuries may be permanent! Climbing is your whole life, and now when faced with the possibility that you could lose it, you're frightened, and you're running away so you don't have to face the realty of it!"

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Le Chèvre snapped, getting angry himself. "You've gone soft, and you just don't want to admit that this life is **not** for us!"

El Topo glared at him. "We're exactly where we **should** be!" he insisted. "Everyone here loves and supports us, and they only want to help you! Open yourself up to them, and let yourself be happy for once! Stop being so damn stubborn!"

Le Chèvre glared at him. "I am leaving, Antonio. I won't tell anyone about where this base is, but I'm **leaving**."

Antonio met his gaze fiercely. "And what about me?" he demanded.

A heavy silence hung in the air, and the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Le Chèvre swallowed the lump in his throat.

"You can come with me."

"I will not leave Team Red." El Topo responded. "They need me, and I need them."

Le Chèvre's expression turned ugly and he turned away. "Then you've made your decision, Antonio."

Without waiting for a response, Le Chèvre stormed from the room, not seeing the tears forming in the other man's eyes. Le Chèvre was intending on stalking to the front door to leave, but the moment he left the bedroom, Shadowsan seized him by the elbow.

"I want a word with you." he said in a tone so dangerous that Le Chèvre didn't even consider refusing. "Let's go to the gym to speak so we won't be overheard."

Le Chèvre gave one last glance to the front door, and then found himself being yanked down the hallway towards the gymnasium.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Zack glanced into the bedroom for the third time that day and saw Mime Bomb was still laying on his bed in the exact same position he'd been in all morning. He hadn't touched the breakfast Zack had brought him, and he'd made no move to respond to anything said to him. Zack held a plate containing a sandwich and slowly made his way over to his friend. He set the plate and a can of pepsi on the bedside table and then started to walk away. Mime Bomb then reached out and caught him by the hand. Zack paused and looked down at him. Mime Bomb gave a tug to the hand, and Zack hesitantly sat down on the bed beside him.

Mime Bomb then turned the laptop screen so Zack could see. There was a picture of four people standing in front of a Christmas tree. Zack looked at the picture and saw the woman he'd seen before standing with two children and an older woman. The girl was about eight or so and the boy looked to be three or four. Zack stared at the toddler and saw the boy was grinning at the camera and proudly wearing a red cape and fancy crown. Zack saw the red hair and mass of freckles and he smiled.

"Is that you?" he asked, pointing.

Mime Bomb nodded.

Zack stared at the little girl who was excitedly holding a football and helmet towards the camera. She was smiling at the camera showing she was missing a front tooth. "And is this your sister?" Zack guessed, pointing.

Again Mime Bomb nodded.

Zack turned his attention to the older woman and saw how she was frowning at the camera, her expression stern and unamused. She had her arms crossed against her chest, and was standing perfectly prim and proper. Zack instantly didn't like her, the woman reminding him of the cps workers he dealt with as a kid. "Your grandmother?" he guessed.

Mime Bomb nodded.

Zack's finger slowly slid over to the red-haired woman. "And this is your mother." he stated. He didn't even need to ask.

Another nod.

"She really is pretty." he told him. "You look so much like her that it's almost scary."

Mime Bomb gave a shrug.

"Where is your father?" Zack asked.

Mime Bomb held his hands up like he was taking a picture and Zack laughed. "Oh, right, of course. Dumb question."

Zack stole a glance at Mime Bomb, and to his relief the other boy didn't look overly upset, just a little bit thoughtful.

"Your family looks really nice." Zack told him. "Do you remember them?"

Mime Bomb nodded.

"You're lucky to at least have memories." Zack told him. "I don't remember my parents at all. They died when I was only three. Ivy has a few memories, but she doesn't remember much either."

Mime Bomb frowned up at him.

"No, no, it's okay." Zack quickly assured him. "It was a long time ago, and I've accepted it. Ivy has been the only family in my life until I met Carmen and now my family is getting bigger all the time." Zack gave him a nudge. "Now I have a brother. He's a little weird sometimes, and he likes to tease me about my hatred of fish, but he's a pretty cool guy."

Mime Bomb offered him a small smile.

"Did you...lose your whole family? Do you have anyone left?" Zack asked hesitantly.

Mime Bomb nodded. "He pointed to his sister and then pointed at his grandmother. He hesitated on her, and then gave a shrug, not actually sure she was still living. When he pointed at his mother, however, he drew an 'X' across her.

"I'm sorry." Zack said. "How did it happen?"

Mime Bomb pointed to Zack's nascar poster on the wall.

Zack glanced at the poster and frowned. "Car accident?" he guessed.

Mime Bomb gave another nod.

"That's how mine died too." Zack told him. "They went out drinking on their anniversary and drove into the Boston Harbor. How did your mom's accident happen?"

Mime Bomb made a punching motion.

"She hit something?"

Mime Bomb nodded and then clicked through a few different photos until he found one taken outside. He pointed to a tree and Zack nodded.

"Oh, she hit a tree. What about your dad, is he still alive?"

Mime Bomb gave a shrug.

Zack was glad that Mime Bomb seemed to be taking everything better than he feared, and he gave him an encouraging smile. "Are you mad at Carmen for snooping?" he asked.

Mime Bomb held his thumb and index finger about an inch apart.

"A little bit? Yeah, I can understand that. She should have asked you first, but she feels really bad for upsetting you." Zack acknowledged. "Do you think you're ready to talk to her? She says there's something really important she needs to ask you about."

Mime Bomb let out a deep sigh and then nodded.

"Okay, great!" Zack exclaimed. "You eat your lunch and I'll go tell her!"

As Zack left the room, Mime Bomb glanced back at the screen and then reached for the sandwich.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Le Chèvre had just received the longest lecture of his life. Shadowsan had immediately flew into him the moment they were in the privacy of the gym, and at first Le Chèvre argued and yelled back, but Shadowsan quickly nipped that in the bud by grabbing a hold of his ear like one would an errant child. It was kind of hard to argue with someone who was painfully twisting your ear, and so Le Chèvre found himself sullen and silent as he was forced to listen to what Shadowsan was saying.

Shadowsan told him how selfish he'd been with his actions and how badly he'd worried El Topo and everyone else. Shadowsan described in great detail everything they'd been through because of him, and Le Chèvre felt the first stirrings of guilt. When Shadowsan was certain he was listening to him, he released his ear and Le Chèvre found himself staring down at the floor as Shadowsan lectured and scolded him like a child. Shadowsan carefully broke down all of Le Chèvre's actions and what affect they had the people around him, and what he should have done instead. He even addressed Le Chèvre's feelings on everything that had happened, acknowledging that it was difficult and frightening, but no excuse for what he did.

Shadowsan carefully explained to Le Chèvre how Team Red functioned as a family, and that as long as he was a part of Team Red then he was family as well. He told him all about the different members of the team and the struggles they were going through. He told him that taking such selfish actions would only cause him to lose the people closest to him, and El Topo had a right to be angry with him. As Le Chèvre listened to all the ways he'd betrayed and hurt El Topo, he felt his chest start to tighten. He really hadn't seen things from this point of view, and he was starting to realize he was in the wrong for all of it. He had reacted with anger and dismissal when El Topo had tried to talk to him about it, and then Le Chèvre had told him he was leaving. El Topo likely saw this as Le Chèvre abandoning him, and he hunched his shoulders guiltily, knowing he had to speak with El Topo as soon as possible. El Topo deserved a thousand apologies, and Le Chèvre just hoped the other man would be willing to forgive him.

Shadowsan kept lecturing on and on, and the longer it went on, the smaller Le Chèvre felt. He felt a single tear run down his cheek and he hurriedly wiped it away, feeling just like chastised little boy. Shadowsan went over each and every team rule, and then what was expected of Le Chèvre should he choose to remain. Le Chèvre wasn't sure how long he was lectured for, but he knew it must have been hours. By the time Shadowsan was finally done, he'd been grounded and felt about two inches tall.

As he left the gym, he headed straight for his bedroom, hoping El Topo was still there. Opening the door, he peered into the room and saw El Topo was still laying in the exact same spot he'd left him in. El Topo stared up at him, his cheeks wet with tears and Le Chèvre felt even guiltier. Without a word, El Topo rolled over so his back was to him.

Le Chèvre knew absolutely everything was all his fault, and he quickly wiped a tear of his own away. At the time, he hadn't even considered what El Topo would think happened when he suddenly disappeared from his hospital room. He felt tremendously guilty for making El Topo think he'd been hurt and kidnapped by V.I.L.E, and he knew he would have to make it up to him somehow. Entering the room fully, he just hoped El Topo wasn't too angry to listen to him.

Le Chèvre couldn't stand the tension any longer and he silently approached his boyfriend's bed, feeling absolutely terrible. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he reached out and ran his fingers through El Topo's hair.

"Antonio?" he whispered.

The was a slight shift, but El Topo didn't turn around.

"I'm sorry, mon amour." Le Chèvre told him. "Please forgive me. I was stupid and selfish, and I never considered your feelings. I'm sorry I worried you, but please forgive me."

El Topo didn't move.

"I was being stubborn and prideful, and I didn't want to admit how scared I was. I'm sorry you had to suffer for my idiocy and selfishness, and I am truly sorry. I would never leave without you, and I'm sorry I put you through this. I deserve your anger, mon amour, but I'm begging your forgiveness. I'm so sorry I hurt you, and I hate myself for doing this to you. I'm an idiot, and I've made nothing but bad decisions. Please, **please** just look at me."

El Topo slowly turned to look up at him. His expression wasn't angry, simply tired and sad.

Le Chèvre reached over and took him by the hands. "I will somehow make this up to you." he promised. "I will do anything you say, but please just forgive me."

El Topo met his eyes. "**Never** do something like this again." he stated, his tone warning. "Never again, Jean Paul. Never make me worry like this."

Le Chèvre gave him a nod. "I promise." he vowed. "If I ever plan on jumping out of a hospital window again, I will take you with me."

El Topo let out a snort. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

Le Chèvre pulled him up into a hug. "I know, Antonio. I will be better, I promise. Team Red is our family, and I'll never hurt any of you again. I will return to the hospital if you want me to."

El Topo looked up at him in surprise, and then he smiled. "You want to stay?"

Le Chèvre returned the smile. "Of course I do." he answered. "I was being a fool before, but I've had some sense knocked into me."

El Topo looked amused. "Shadowsan?"

"Shadowsan." Le Chèvre confirmed.

El Topo leaned into him, feeling relieved that Le Chèvre seemed to finally understand. "Did he ground you?" he asked in amusement.

Le Chèvre snorted. "A week." he confirmed.

"You deserved two." El Topo commented.

Le Chèvre stared down at him for a moment and then rested his chin on top of El Topo's head. "Perhaps." he agreed in amusement. "But he's giving me the same punishment as the quiet kid since he did pretty much the same thing during the rescue mission. Fair is fair, I suppose."

"Are you going to keep calling him the 'quiet kid' forever?" El Topo asked.

"I refuse to call him by that stupid code name." Le Chèvre responded. "Until he changes it or I find out his real name, he will remain as the quiet kid."

"I've never understood why you dislike him so much. He's never done anything to you, and he seems nice enough."

Le Chèvre let out a sigh. "I just couldn't understand how someone like him ever got accepted into V.I.L.E academy. He never belonged there and it made the rest of us looks like idiots to have a mime in our graduating class. Then, for him to be French on top of all that, was just insulting."

El Topo glanced up at him. "Mime Bomb's not French." he said. "I overheard Carmen talking about him to Zack this morning. He's Welsh."

Le Chèvre eyes widened in surprise. "I knew it! I knew there was no way he was French! No Frenchman alive would **ever** drench his food in ketchup!"

El Topo let out a laugh. "Oh, mi amigo, you are such a snob."

Le Chèvre laughed as well. "Perhaps." he admitted.

"I think I would like some lunch since we missed supper last night." El Topo told him.

Le Chèvre immediately got up and held his hands down to his partner to help him up. "I will make you something special." he promised. "An apology lucnh."

El Topo nodded and allowed himself to be pulled up. "Sounds good, mi amor."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Mime Bomb glanced up as Carmen entered the bedroom, knocking as she did so.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him hesitantly. "Zack told me you're ready to talk?"

Mime Bomb glared at her, but motioned for her to approach all the same. She took a seat on Zack's bed across from him and then gave a deep sigh.

"I'm sorry you found out I'd been looking into you that way. I had been planning on asking you about it today, and forgot I left the information up on my screen. I really am sorry."

Mime Bomb continued glaring at her.

"I thought if I knew more about you, I could help you get past the trauma you endured. I know now that I should have asked you, and I'm sorry."

Mime Bomb gave her a nod.

"I was hoping it would be alright if I asked you a few questions about your childhood?" Carmen asked. "There's something odd we discovered when looking into you."

Mime Bomb now looked wary, but he still gave her a nod.

"Is it alright if Player watches so he can translate your sign language for me?"

He gave another nod.

"Player, are you there?" Carmen called out.

"Yeah, Red." Player confirmed. "Ready to translate anytime."

Carmen nodded and then glanced at the computer screen. The picture displayed was of Mime Bomb's sister Alys.

"Your sister has been looking for you." she informed him. "She never gave up, and has been searching for fifteen years for clues as to what happened to you."

Mime Bomb frowned, his gaze flitting to his sister.

"That's what we'd like to know as well." Carmen said gently. "Where did you disappear to? Who kidnapped you from your grandmother's house all those years ago?"

Mime Bomb's whole body stiffened, and he hurriedly shook his head. He made a few signs and Player translated.

"He said 'I am **not** talking about that. Choose a different topic.'"

"I need to know if there's another criminal organization that I don't know about." Carmen told him. "Someone has been trying very hard to erase all traces of you, and your name is gone from every record and every form you were associated with. Every time your sister posts information about you online, it's immediately taken down or censored. Someone is trying very hard to keep you hidden, and I think it's the same people who kidnapped you."

Mime Bomb's eyes were wide with fear and he again shook his head. He frantically signed and Player once again translated. "I changed my mind. I am not talking about this any longer."

"They did something to you." Carmen insisted. "You could talk before you were taken, but when you returned, you were mute. I need to know, what is your real name, and why was your father's identity such a secret? Was he the one who took you?"

Mime Bomb slammed the lid of the laptop shut, and then once again signed.

"Don't" Player said.

"Don't what?" Carmen asked.

Mime Bomb signed angrily at her and Player was quick to translate. "Don't touch this, just leave it alone. You have no idea what you're doing. You can't investigate this or they will kill you all."

Carmen's eyes widened. "Who?" she demanded.

"It doesn't matter, because I'm not talking about it." Player answered. "Leave the past where it is, and don't touch it."

"Can you at least tell me your name?" she asked.

Mime Bomb adamantly shook his head. "No. I no longer have a name." Player answered for him.

"If there's a criminal organization out there hurting people, then I **have** to investigate it." she replied. "I can't let them get away with it."

Mime Bomb's signs were clearly furious and Player spoke in an angry voice to go along with them. "You don't understand! I'm **not** helping you investigate this, and I'm **not** going to talk about it. Leave. It. Alone."

"Mime Bomb..." Carmen said, as he got up angrily. "Just sit down and we'll calmly talk about this. I know it's probably hard for you to think about, but-"

Mime Bomb batted the laptop to the floor, and then stormed away from her, heading to the door.

"Mime Bomb, wait!" she called after him.

He left the room and she let out a deep sigh.

"Well, that could have gone better." Player commented.

"This just proves there really **is** another criminal organization." Carmen answered, staring down at her broken laptop. "I can't ignore this, Player, and I'll have to research this with or without Mime Bomb's help."

"What about his warnings?" Player asked. "What if these guys are really bad news?"

"I'll just have to be careful until I can figure out who they are." Carmen answered. "I'll let Mime Bomb calm down and then try talking to him again later."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**Don't forget to leave a comment if you liked the chapter! :D**

**The next update will be within a week.**

**Authornote #2:**

**I am going to start another Carmen Sandiego short-story series. This one is going to be all reader requests. ** **I am doing this to get as much writing practice as I can and want to have fun with ideas and topics I wouldn't normally write about. ** **If you want me to write you a one-shot, then leave a comment below with as much detail as possible. Keep in mind that these will be short one-shots and not full-length multi-chapter stories. Absolutely all topics/pairings/ratings are perfectly alright except for anything involving Player, or anything involving dead pets. (no dead dog stories guys) These stories will not be in any way connected to my main AU, and will be stand alone one shots.**

**Not every single request will be written because I simply don't have the time to do them all. I'm going to pick and choose what interests me. Priority will be given to my readers who have been leaving comments on my stories. You know who you are. If I need to clarify anything in your request, I will respond to your comment.**

**I am planning on writing the first story this week and have it posted in a few days. Hopefully there will be enough interest in this to keep me busy. lol**


	9. Team Crackle In San Diego

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> We are now getting closer to the meeting between Team Red and Team Crackle and I'm very excited about it! Just one more chapter to go! ^_^
> 
> A big thanks to Cinnalando, Violetfic and Melodymeddly for all their help and support! You guys are awesome! :D
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 9**

**Team Crackle in San Diego**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Dr. Bellum was feeling incredibly proud of Crackle. They had just received word from The Driver that she had safely transported the ruby and now V.I.L.E were 230 million dollars richer. The Driver told them of the A.C.M.E ambush and how Team Crackle had worked together to get her out of the building. She couldn't say for sure whether the whole team had survived the encounter, because the building had collapsed just seconds after she left the garage. Dr. Bellum found it strange that she hadn't heard from Crackle, and when she tried to reach his com, there was no answer. She checked the plane that had been waiting for them at the airport and it left on-time for San Diego an hour ago. At least some of Team Crackle made it to the plane, but why weren't they answering?

Dr. Bellum tried calling the com over and over for ten minutes and there was still no answer. Wanting to see for herself what the problem was, she hacked into the plane's cameras and brought up the feed on her tablet. She saw Team Crackle sprawled on the floor of the plane, and none appeared to be moving. They were covered in blood and grime, but all seemed to be accounted for. Her brows furrowed in concern, and she then hacked into the speaker system.

"Crackle." she said loudly.

There was so response.

"Crackle." she repeated. "Answer me."

No one moved.

"Answer me **now** or there will be consequences." she threatened, knowing Crackle would respond to that if he could.

Still nothing, and she frowned in concern.

"This is Dr. Bellum, Team Crackle, can you hear me? Respond to me Team Crackle."

She spotted movement on the feed and slowly Paper Star sat up. The girl's eyes were barely open and she glanced around in confusion, clearly not knowing where she was.

"Paper Star!" Dr. Bellum called out loudly.

The girl turned to stare at the speaker system, not really seeming very alert.

"Pick up the ringing communicator." Dr. Bellum ordered.

Paper Star blinked heavily and then glanced around as if looking for the source of the ringing.

"Pick it up **now**, Paper Star."

Paper Star shook her head, trying to clear the fog, but it felt like she'd been drugged. Dizzy and tired, she slowly crawled over the others laying on the floor, and made her way towards Crackle. Staring down at him, she rolled him over and then reached into his pocket, trying to find the source of the ringing. Pulling out his communicator, she answered it and then held it up to her ear. Dr. Bellum disconnected from the speaker system and switched to her com.

"Put Crackle on the phone." she ordered.

Paper Star turned her attention to Crackle and shook his shoulder. She waited a few seconds and then shook him even harder. When there was no response, she reached out and pinched him hard on the neck, twisting the skin as she did so. Crackle woke with a sharp yelp, and he stared up at Paper Star, surprise and betrayal written across his face. She didn't say a single word, simply holding out the com towards him. The second he accepted it, she laid back down beside him, the sedatives still making her confused and drowsy.

"...'ello?" Crackle answered in confusion.

"Hello Crackle." Dr. Bellum greeted him, her tone pleased and somewhat excited.

Crackle sat up so quickly, he nearly dropped the communicator. "Dr. Bellum!" he exclaimed in alarm. "I'm sorry I haven't contacted you yet! We had a very difficult hand-off and my team is completely exhausted. I didn't even realize I fell asleep!"

"Yes, I heard all about your fight with A.C.M.E and it is very impressive how your team handled themselves. Are any of you severely injured?"

"No, ma'am." he replied. "A few bruises and cuts, but a couple days rest will cure that."

"How did your team handle working together?" she asked. "Any weak links?"

Crackle glanced down at his sleeping team and smiled down at them. "No, they were perfect." he answered. "My team is the best."

Dr. Bellum wasn't sure she liked the way Crackle seemed to be getting attached to his teammates. This could lead to problems if he ever had to dispose of them later.

"Crackle, remember that you are the leader of this group and you need to keep your emotions in check. I taught you that a leader cannot show weakness to his subordinates or they will take advantage of you. You need to remain distant and firm with them at all times. Never show them kindness and never show them compassion! Just because I am not longer supervising you, doesn't mean you can forget what you've been taught."

The smile instantly left Crackle's face, and he straightened himself up and gave her a serious nod. "Yes, ma'am, I won't let you down. We will take down Carmen Sandiego and wipe out her whole team. You can count on us."

"Your team did well, and we are giving you one day to recover once you land in San Diego. I expect you to be making progress on the search by the end of the second day."

Crackle nodded. "Yes, of course. I will make sure my team is ready as soon as possible."

"You will have access to V.I.L.E funds to buy supplies and lodging. If you're making a purchase over $5000, it will need to be approved by one of the faculty."

Crackle once again nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Make me proud, Crackle."

"I will." Crackle promised.

Dr. Bellum ended the call, and he slowly lowered the com away from his ear. It seemed like Dr. Bellum had been displeased with him about something, but he wasn't sure what. He had completed the mission, and they had done everything they were supposed to, but yet he had been scolded. He frowned and tried to think of what he had done wrong. Was she upset he hadn't called her right away, or was she simply in a bad mood about something unrelated? Pocketing his com, he glanced down at his sleeping team and knew he should check them for injuries.

Slowly sitting up tiredly, he got to his feet and then approached the medical kit stored near the front of the plane. Once he had it, he knelt down beside Paper Star and gave her a look over, but didn't see any signs of blood. Moving on to Dash, he found a lot of blood and so he shook the other man's shoulder. Dash let out a groan of protest, and didn't open his eyes.

"Dash Haber." Crackle whispered. "Wake up."

Dash let out another groan and so Crackle shook him even harder. Dash's eyes finally cracked open tiredly, and Crackle pulled him up into a sitting position.

"What are you doing?" Dash demanded irritably.

"You're bleeding." Crackle pointed out. "Tell me where you're injured."

Dash blinked heavily a few times and then glanced down to his stomach where his shirt was shredded.

"Okay, let me take a look." Crackle ordered.

Tired and sore, Dash struggled to undo the buttons of his shirt and vest but his fingers were bloody and he was having a hard time with them. Crackle took over for him and ripped the ruined shirt off him so he could see the wounds. Dash had several deep scratches across his stomach and there was a smattering of bruising from being struck during the fight. Nothing required stitches and so Crackle carefully cleaned and disinfected the wounds and then bandaged them, knowing Dash would be fine after some rest. Dash's hands were another story. When Crackle peeled away the blood-soaked fabric that wrapped Dash's hands, the knuckles were a mass of blood and bruises. Dash winced when Crackle looked them over and then let out a yelp of protest as they were disinfected.

"I don't want you using your hands any more than you have to for a few days." Crackle told him, bending each finger carefully to make sure nothing was broken.

He wrapped the hands in bandages, and then turned to the next teammate. Neal was laying beside Dash, using Theodore's leg as a pillow as he slept. Crackle reached out to shift him slightly so he could look him over and didn't see any signs of blood. Neal moved slightly as he was poked and prodded, and then opened his eyes.

"Kia Ora, wombat." he greeted tiredly. "We in San Diego?"

"Not yet." Crackle told him. "Are you injured anywhere?"

Neal shook his head. "A few bruises, but I don't think anything serious."

"Go back to sleep, I'll wake you when we land." Crackle ordered.

Neal didn't have to be told twice, and shifted closer to Theodore, still using him as a pillow. The twins were both sitting upright, their backs against the wall as they slept, and Crackle began looking over Theodore first. He quickly realized that both twins were covered in blood and so he reached out and shook Theodore.

Theodore gave a startled jerk and lashed out and Crackle barely avoided a fist to the face. Theodore blinked in confusion and then he frowned at Crackle.

"What?" he demanded tiredly.

"I need to you to take off your shirt so I can clean your injuries." Crackle told him.

Theodore gave a yawn. "Oh."

Theodore glanced down at Neal who was already back asleep, and then slowly and carefully removed his shirt, careful to not jostle the Kiwi. Crackle saw Theodore was covered in bruises and gashes and he realized this would need longer than a day to heal. Not saying anything, he disinfected and cleaned the wounds, and bandaged every cut, hoping they wouldn't have another fight for a least a few days. As Theodore settled himself back into a comfortable position, he watched as Crackle approached his brother.

Crackle gave a shake to Roosevelt but there was no response.

"Roosevelt." Crackle whispered, shaking him harder. "Wake up."

Roosevelt continued snoring, and didn't move.

Crackle shook him hard. "Roosevelt!" he hissed a bit louder. "Roosevelt!"

Roosevelt didn't move at all and Crackle frowned at him, starting to become concerned. It was then that Crackle saw the puddle of blood on the floor. Letting out a curse, he reached out and began pulling Roosevelt's shirt off, so he could see the damage. If he thought Theodore's wounds were bad,, they were nothing compared to Roosevelt's. Deep gashes covered his stomach, and his entire stomach and chest was a mass of ugly looking bruises.

Letting out a curse, he turned to Theodore. "I need your help. Roosevelt is injured worse than I thought. I need you to help me get him into a laying position on the floor."

Theodore gently shifted Neal off of him, and then scrambled over to help, feeling instantly wide awake. He stared at his injured brother with wide eyes, and then helped lower him to the floor.

"Help me with his pants." Crackle ordered. "It looks like his legs have been injured as well."

Theodore helped peel the blood-soaked pants off and they saw more deep lacerations across Roosevelt's hips and legs. Theodore suddenly grabbed Crackle by the arm to get his attention.

"Save him." he begged. "Please. I can't lose another brother. Please save him!"

Theodore's face was completely white, and Crackle gave him a confident nod.

"He'll live." he assured him. "But I need your help so I can stitch these wounds up. You'll need to hold him down in case he wakes up, and you need to make sure he stays still."

Theodore nodded, and watched as Crackle began cleaning and disinfecting the dozens of deep wounds. Roosevelt didn't react at all, and Crackle really regretted not checking on him sooner. He was a weak leader and had given into exhaustion, and because of this, one of his teammates was in danger. Now Crackle understood why Dr. Bellum had seemed angry, she had seen his weakness and was disgusted by it. Crackle had no right to rest before taking care of his team and his duties as leader. Angry at himself, Crackle focused all of his energy on Roosevelt as he threaded the needle.

"Okay, hold him." Crackle ordered as his hands approached the worst of the injuries.

When Crackle began stitching the wound closed, Roosevelt moaned in his sleep, but didn't wake. Crackle worked as fast and carefully as he could, and as he was starting the fourth wound, Roosevelt woke. He let out a pained roar and tried to thrash, but Theodore quickly held him down.

"Stop." Theodore said calmly, and surprisingly enough, that one word was all it took.

Roosevelt took a deep breath, and went still, staring at Theodore with wide and pained eyes.

"I need to finish the stitches." Crackle told him. "You need to stay still."

Roosevelt glanced down at what Crackle was doing and then quickly looked away again. "Bad?" he asked.

"Yes." Theodore answered. "Don't move."

Roosevelt sucked in another deep breath and then held it as Crackle pierced his skin with the needle. Roosevelt didn't move a muscle as Crackle worked, and when he finally finished with the stomach and chest, Crackle moved to the wounds on the hips and thighs. Roosevelt clenched the handle of the first aid box as Crackle worked, and as Crackle started on a particularly deep wound, he squeezed hard enough to crush the handle. Crackle finished the last stitch and Roosevelt let out a breath of relief only to bellow as Crackle poured more disinfectant across the fresh stitches.

"Sorry." Crackle apologized. "I should have warned you."

Neal jerked awake at the bellow and stared over at Roosevelt, quickly taking in the scene and seeing the blood that stained the floor. Slowly sitting up, he rubbed at his eyes, and then edged over.

"Do you need help?" he asked.

Crackle glanced over at him and shook his head. "Just finished." he replied. "Roosevelt needed stitches."

Neal's eyes roved across the dozens of stitches. "I can see that."

Crackle wrapped thick bandages all around Roosevelt's stomach, chest and legs, and then looked over at Theodore. "Make sure he doesn't try to move without help." he ordered. "He could rip his stitches."

Theodore grabbed Roosevelt a clean pair of pants from his dufflebag and helped his brother into them, just glad Roosevelt was going to be okay. Roosevelt was incredibly weak, and now that he was no longer in pain, he was starting to get drowsy again. Theodore grabbed him a blanket from the medical hatch in the plane and then covered Roosevelt with the blanket, still feeling worried.

"Rest." Theodore ordered his brother. "Get better."

Roosevelt made a grunt of agreement and closed his eyes, almost immediately falling into a deep sleep. As he began to snore, Theodore sat next to him and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes as well.

"You should get some more rest too, Neal." Crackle suggested, gathering up the medical supplies. "We still have two hours of the flight left."

Neal had been woken up twice now, and so he was wide awake and not even tired anymore. He shook his head and helped Crackle pack up the kit. "Naw, I'm alright, love. I'm not as hurt as the others."

He observed Crackle's upset expression and Neal gave him a frown. "Is everything alright, wombat?"

"Yes, of course, why wouldn't it be?" Crackle demanded, defensively.

Neal cocked his head at him. "Well, you do look a little bit...upset." he stated.

Crackle let out a sigh. "I'm just a little mad at myself for not seeing Roosevelt was injured." he admitted. "I'm your leader and he could have died because I was sleeping."

Neal wasn't actually expecting an honest response and was surprised. "You just fought your way through 9 levels of hell in that parking garage, love. You're exhausted like the rest of us. I'm surprised you were able to drive us to the airport, let alone make sure we all got on board. Roosevelt never mentioned he was hurt, and you're not psychic."

Crackle gave him a glare. "I am the leader of this team, and it's my responsibility to check these things."

Just as Crackle was about to close the medical kit, Neal slid it away from him. "You made sure we were all taken care of, so now let's get you patched up as well."

"I'm fine." Crackle said a little more aggressively than necessary.

"You're bleeding." Neal pointed out.

Crackle glanced down at his aching side and saw there was indeed blood staining his clothes. He let out a deep sigh, knowing this was going to be an inconvenience. Without a word, he unzipped his bodysuit and pulled it off to his stomach. Glancing down, he saw a deep gash across his side.

"You need stitches, wombat." Neal pointed out.

Crackle let out another sigh, knowing he was right. "Fine, just do it." he said irritably, sitting down in one of the plane's seats.

Neal raised an eyebrow at him and then obediently pulled out what he needed from the medical kit. He disinfected his hands, and when he disinfected the wound, Crackle tensed up but didn't move a muscle.

Neal threaded a clean needle, and then reached towards the wound. "Ready, love?"

"Yes." Crackle answered.

To Neal's surprise, Crackle never moved or made a single sound the entire time he stitched him up. He sat there stoically, and Neal eyed him in disbelief, knowing how much it hurt to get stitches. When he was finished, Neal wiped away the blood, disinfected the wound and then bandaged it up. Without a word, Crackle righted his bodysuit, and then closed the medical kit. As he returned it to its place, Neal watched him, still trying to figure him out. Neal knew there was something definitely off about Crackle, but he wasn't quite sure what. There was a deep sadness that lurked in Crackle's eyes, and Neal had a feeling something terrible had been done to him by V.I.L.E. Crackle seemed confused by the most basic of things, and Neal suspected his mind had been altered in some way. Neal had seen operatives that had been mind wiped, and this seemed completely different. Neal couldn't quite place his finger on what was wrong with him, but he was sure he'd figure it out eventually.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" Crackle demanded with a frown.

Neal gave him a shrug, and Crackle let out a sigh.

"Have you been to San Diego before, Neal?"

"Sure."

"If you're not going to sleep, you can help me choose the best location for us to make base at. We could be here for days, or it could be weeks and so we need to figure out a motel we can lay low at without attracting attention."

As Crackle pulled out a map, Neal took a seat beside him so he could take a look.

"Well, wombat, I know of a few places we should consider..."

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Julia stared at the screen with a sigh. Great, her flight had just been delayed by two hours. Just as she was debating on going into the nearby cafe for some overpriced coffee, her phone rang. Considering she'd just purchased it an hour before, she was a bit surprised. She'd called and left her report with A.C.M.E, and so she assumed it must be someone calling her back.

"Hello?"

"Agent Argent." The Chief's voice greeted her. "I am incredibly disturbed by your report. You're certain you were the only survivor?"

"Yes, ma'am. I spoke with the A.C.M.E cleanup crew and no one else survived."

"Are you injured, agent Argent?"

Julia glanced down at her scraped knees. "No, ma'am, just a few cuts and bruises but nothing serious. I'm waiting for my flight to San Diego now, and should arrive in five hours."

The Chief let out a deep and weary sigh. "No, Agent Argent, I'm pulling the plug on this mission. This failure has been a devastating blow to A.C.M.E and we cannot afford to lose any more agents. This new team that V.I.L.E created wiped out almost every field agent we had, and we need time to rebuild, and come up with a new strategy."

"But we know where they're going!" Julia protested. "We could at least gather intel on them!"

"No, Agent Argent, I'm not taking any chances right now. Return to Poitiers immediately. V.I.L.E has won this round, and there is nothing A.C.M.E can do at this time."

"Ma'am, I must protest!" Julia said. "They could lead us to Carmen Sandiego! We **must** investigate this!"

"**No**, Agent Agent." The Chief said firmly. "You will get yourself killed if you go, because I have no one to send for backup."

"But, Chief!"

"This is an order, Miss Argent, return to Poitiers."

The call then went dead, and Julia frowned down at the phone feeling frustrated. Putting her phone away, she let out a deep sigh and glanced back at the screen, seeing that the flight to France was leaving in a little over two hours. The flight was leaving almost the exact same time as the flight to San Diego. Julia reached up and adjusted her glasses, feeling like The Chief was wrong. She needed to find out answers, and she wasn't going to find them in Poitiers.

Julia didn't believe Carmen Sandiego was the villain everyone believed she was, and she didn't believe Chase Devineaux was a traitor. She felt a little pain of sadness when she thought of Chase, and felt bad over what had happened to him. He had been a good Interpol agent, but was just much too stubborn for his own good. She'd gotten to know him extremely well during their partnership, and she felt certain to her very bones that Chase would **never** become a criminal. Chase lived and breathed law and order, and she knew there had to be something serious to make Chase break so many laws. It was incredibly worrying, and Julia wished she could just speak to Chase for a few minutes to find out what happened. Chase Devineaux hated La Femme Rouge with a passion, and if he partnered up with her, then he must have found a bigger threat. Was the threat V.I.L.E or someone else?

Julia had tried calling Chase after the incident in Poitiers, but there was no answer to his phone. When they traced the signal, they found his cellphone abandoned in a trash can in front of a grocers. There had been no trace of him after that and it was like he had simply dropped off the planet. Julia had a sneaking suspicion he was with Carmen Sandiego, and if that was the case, he wouldn't be easy to find.

There was a ding to her phone and Julia pulled it out to take a look. A confirmed plane ticket to Poitiers had just been texted to her. Julia frowned and then glanced down at the ticket to San Diego in her hand. If she went to Poitiers, she'd probably never find out the truth, but if she went to San Diego she would likely lose her job and put herself in danger.

Julia closed her eyes and took a deep breath, knowing the decision she made now would set the course for the rest of her life. Julia knew what the most **logical** choice would be, but for once in her life it didn't feel like the **right** choice. Julia realized she didn't care what danger she might be putting herself in, she just wanted to learn the truth. She needed to find Chase, and she needed to find Carmen Sandiego. Her mind made up, she clutched her ticket tightly in her hands, and waited for her flight.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

When they finally made it to their motel, everyone was still exhausted and just want to rest for a few years. It took three of them to help Roosevelt into the room, and once they had him settled on a bed, they began bringing in their belongings. Dash laid claim to the shower the moment they entered, and no one protested, too tired to care. Neal fell face-down on one of the bed and remained that way until Dash left the bathroom an hour and fifteen minutes later.

"Dibs!" Neal called out.

He looked up just in time to see Paper Star enter the bathroom and close the door. He let out a groan, scowled at the closed door and then went back to lightly dozing as he waited for her to come out. Surprisingly enough she only took twenty minutes, and the second the door opened, Neal was instantly awake.

"Dibs!" he called out again, grabbing his dufflebag and speeding for the bathroom.

Hoping there was hot water left, Neal began stripping off his slick suit, wincing at the pain the movement caused. Once he had it off, he stared at himself in the mirror and saw his entire body was covered in bruises. Turning around so he could look at his back, he saw a really bad bruise that covered the whole length of his spine.

"Well, this is fun." he commented. "No hot shower for me, I guess."

He didn't have any cuts at least, and so he turned on the shower setting set it to cold, knowing it would help with the bruising and swelling. Taking a deep breath as he stepped under the freezing water, Neal squeezed his eyes closed miserably, hating being cold. Neal always avoided going to cold places if he could help it, loving the heat since that's what he was used to. Shivering as he stood there, he glanced around and his eyes fell on a bottle of shampoo in a fancy glass bottle. Did Dash accidentally leave his shampoo behind? Plucking it off the edge of the tub, he removed the stopper and gave it a sniff. Yup, this was Dash's all right. It even smelled expensive, and Neal smirked as he dumped a fair amount into the palm of his hand. As he scrubbed at his oily hair, he had to admit Dash had good tastes in scents. He purposely left the stopper out of the shampoo, knowing Dash would have a fit if he realized someone touched his stuff. Ten minutes later, he turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, shivering uncontrollably. Grabbing some sleep clothes, he hurriedly got dressed, and then left the bathroom, wanting to wrap himself in a blanket.

As Crackle passed him by to head for the bathroom, Crackle suddenly caught him by the wrist. Startled, Neal stopped and glanced back at him and saw Crackle was staring at the bruises on his arm.

"No cuts, love." he assured him. "Just a few bruises."

Crackle pulled up Neal's sleeve, revealing the bruises only got worse the higher they went. Crackle frowned and lifted Neal's shirt and stared at the massive bruises covering his stomach. Crackle then turned a stern look at him. "Why didn't you tell me about this?" he demanded.

Neal yanked his arm away. "Just a few bruises." he repeated. "Nothing I'm not used to."

"I'll get you some ice." Crackle told him. "Where are the worst of the bruises?"

"My back." Neal admitted.

Crackle nodded and then headed for the door.

"You don't have to go right now." Neal informed him in amusement. "Take your shower, love."

"The shower can wait." Crackle said, disappearing out the door. "No one leave."

Once the door closed, Neal shook his head in amusement. Glancing over at the others, he saw everyone was fast asleep, despite it only being a little after eight. Neal hadn't fought as hard as the others, but he was exhausted as well and decided that everyone had the right idea. Crawling into the only empty bed, he laid on his stomach to give a bit of relief to the bruises, and chose the best pillow, leaving Crackle the slightly lumpy one. Setting his contacts case on the stand beside him, he found a comfortable spot and closed his eyes. Within minutes he found himself drifting off into a light sleep and when he felt something cold suddenly touch his back, he gave a surprised flinch. Opening his eyes, he glanced over his shoulder and saw Crackle had laid several medical grade ice-packs on his back. He turned his head just in time to see Crackle enter the bathroom without speaking a single word to him.

Although freezing cold, the ice-packs were numbing the pain in his back and Neal once again felt himself drifting off to sleep. He didn't even stir when Crackle crawled into bed twenty minutes later.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Crackle was frowning down at his notepad thoughtfully, ignoring the chaos around him. Dash was furious over something that Crackle didn't care about and was yelling and pitching a fit. Tapping his pen against the paper, Crackle began writing out a list.

"Just tell me where they are!" Neal angrily ordered.

"I'll tell you where they are when you admit it was you who stole some of my $14,000 shampoo!"

"You're being ridiculous, where are they?!"

"Admit it was you!" Dash bellowed. "I can smell it on you!"

Neal let out a aggravated sigh. "**FINE**! Yes, I stole some of your overpriced shampoo! Happy now?"

Dash narrowed his eyes. "You owe me a new bottle now that your grease has ruined it."

"Where are my contacts?" Neal demanded impatiently. "You said you would tell me if I admitted it!"

"And I'll tell you **exactly** where I put them." Dash ground out, looking furious enough to lash out.

"Where?" Neal demanded, equally as angry.

"I flushed them." Dash replied, smirking at him.

Neal stared at him, gaping silently for a moment, before his voice found him again. "What?! You didn't!"

Crackle let out a sigh and added contacts for Neal to his list of supplies.

"Dash, I literally can't see five feet in front of me without those!"

Dash gave him a shrug. "That sounds like a you problem."

Neal angrily reached down to the bedside table, grabbed a phone book and threw it at Dash as hard as he could, missing by several feet.

Dash scoffed, and Neal felt his face redden. Just as he was striding forward, Crackle reached out and caught him by the wrist.

"Enough." Crackle ordered. "There will be no fighting today, am I clear?"

"But my contacts!" Neal protested furiously.

"Wear your glasses for now. We'll buy you more contacts this afternoon."

Neal shot a glare at Dash, and then stomped his way over to his dufflebag. Digging to the very bottom of the bag, he pulled out a glasses case and opened it, still looking furious. Pulling out a pair of black horn-rimmed glasses, he put them on, and then gave the whole room a glare, daring them to say anything. Dash snickered and Neal's reaction was immediate, and he whipped the glasses' case straight at Dash's face, this time his aim perfect.

"Ow, dammit!" Dash cried, clutching one of his eyes.

"**Enough**!" Crackle ordered again. "The next one of you to throw, yell or do **anything** to annoy me is going to be shocked."

Neal crossed his arms grouchily and Dash glared at him, clearly wanting to retaliate.

"Do any of you need any supplies before we confront Carmen Sandiego?" Crackle demanded, looking at his list with a frown.

Dash was instantly at his side. "Yes!"

He snatched the pen out of Crackle's hand and then proceeded to make an enormous list of items. Crackle glanced through the list and furrowed his brow. "A sawblade? What **is** all this?" he demanded.

"What I need to rebuild my hat." Dash responded. "None of these items can be substituted for anything else, and everything is necessary."

"Really? Nail polish remover is necessary?" Neal demanded, peering down at the list.

Dash flushed. "Shut up, Neal!"

Crackle let out a sigh. "I don't know what half of these things are." he admitted. "Do you feel up to buying them yourself?"

Dash nodded, feeling perfectly fine. His hands were sore, but nothing he couldn't handle.

"I'll do it." Neal offered, snatching the list out of Crackle's hands. "I need to go to the store anyway."

"You'd have no idea what to get!" Dash accused. "I am not trusting you with something this important!"

Neal rolled his eyes. "I'm sure I could figure it out, fancy."

Dash shook his head. "No way. What do **you** need to get anyway?"

Neal raised brow. "You reeeeeeally want to know?" he asked.

"No." the whole room collectively answered.

Neal folded the paper over and stuffed it down into his jean's pocket. "I won't be long." he promised heading for the door.

"Dash, go with him."

Neal froze at the door. "Er...no thanks, wombat. I'd rather go myself."

"No, I'm tired of you both and I need a break." Crackle responded. "Dash can pick out his own supplies and you can get everything else on the list. You will both take this time to calm down and learn to get along. This bickering is getting very old, and I'm getting tired of it. Go on this errand and prove to me you can both be trusted to work together."

"But-" Neal started to protest.

Crackle cut him off. "This is an **order** and if you continue to argue, we're going to be having a different sort of conversation."

Crackle's gaze shifted over to the crackle rod sitting nearby and both Neal and Dash winced.

"No fighting for the rest of today, or **else**." Crackle warned. "This is the only warning I'm giving you, and so I suggest you either learn to get along or learn to ignore each other."

Neal looked decidedly unhappy, and glanced over at Dash. "Fine. Come on, princess."

Dash huffed, but didn't say anything.

"Call if you're going to be gone longer than two hours." Crackle ordered.

"Okay." Neal told him, opening the door. "Where are the car keys?"

Crackle tossed them over and Dash was quick to catch them. He flashed Neal a smug look, and then pushed past him without a single word. Rolling his eyes, Neal followed after him, having a feeling this shopping trip was going to be hell.

They didn't speak the whole drive to the department store, and they maintained their silence until they were in the store.

"We'll need a cart." Dash informed him. "And I'm not touching that dirty thing."

Neal yanked a cart away from the stack, and then followed him into the store.

"We'll need to head to the hardware department first." Dash informed him. "I know what **I** need, but I have no idea what Crackle needs."

Neal pulled the list out of his pocket and glanced down at it. "Medical supplies, AA batteries and..oh, he added contacts for me on the list."

"What do you need?" Dash asked.

Neal hesitated a moment too long. "Doritos, beer and Twizzlers." he answered.

Dash rolled his eyes. "Just the essentials then."

Neal flashed him a smirk. "Why don't we split up so we finish faster?"

Dash narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. What was Neal up to? Why did he want them to split up? "No, we need to stay together."

"Why?" Neal demanded incredulously.

"...because I refuse to touch that disgusting shopping cart." Dash replied. "Children probably wiped their snot all over that handle, and I don't know if any of those previous customers ever wash their hands."

Neal let out a deep sigh. "Whatever you say, princess primpleprude."

Neal followed Dash to the very back of the store, and then watched in utter boredom as Dash compared different tools. After standing there for ten minutes as Dash carefully inspected a soldering iron, he let out a groan.

"Don't rush me." Dash snapped. "I'm not used to using such low-end garbage and I need to be certain it will work."

"Does it really matter?"

Dash pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, it 'matters' you idiot. I'm building a hat with **weapons** inside it. Do you have any idea how difficult that is to do with high-end technology, let alone having to try to build it with Walmart crap? I really don't want a saw-blade to suddenly malfunction while it's on my head! I have to carefully select everything from the fabric of the hat to the quality of the metal! Every single part of this process is so delicate that the slightest imperfection could be catastrophic! I will take as long as I damn well please, and I don't want to hear about it you slimy-"

Dash turned around and saw Neal was gone, the cart left behind.

Letting out an angry curse, Dash removed his hand sanitizer out of his jacket pocket and dumped it across the handle of the shopping cart. After making sure it was clean enough to touch, he began pushing the cart, feeling furious. He stalked through the aisles, wondering where the greasy idiot had disappeared to. He couldn't find him anywhere and after ten minutes, he was fed up.

Just as he was considering leaving Neal behind and going back to the motel, he spotted him standing near the magazines. Stomping up behind him furiously, he was about to tell him **exactly** what he thought of him, when he realized Neal was looking through greeting cards. Dash frowned, wondering why a V.I.L.E operative would need a greeting card. His gaze settled on the cards Neal was going through and saw they were birthday cards. Dash was even more confused. Did Neal have a partner he hadn't mentioned? That was the only person Dash could think of that you'd give a card to, but he was confused by it. Why was Neal being so secretive about it?

Neal hadn't noticed him yet and so Dash stood there watching as Neal looked through the cards carefully as if looking for something very specific. After several minutes, Neal smiled brightly and it was obvious he'd found the perfect one. Dash squinted at the card to see what it was, and then his eyebrows rose in surprise when he saw the card had a smiling zebra on the front with the message 'Woohoo, you're two!'. Neal smiled fondly down at the card, and then grabbed an envelope.

Dash stepped back behind a display of magazines so he wouldn't be seen, just wanting to watch what Neal was going to do. Did Neal have a secret family that V.I.L.E didn't know about? Starting a family was the biggest no-no for any operative, and V.I.L.E responded **extremely** harshly to operatives who disobeyed. Not only were the operatives mind's wiped, but so were the family's. Dash smirked, realizing the power this information held. He had the ability to destroy Neal's entire life if he tattled, and he could definitely use this to his advantage. He tip-toed behind Neal at a distance and watched as Neal stole a pen off a shelf and then made his way into a secluded corner.

Neal stood there for quite a while as he wrote, and Dash could see he had filled in the entire inside of the card with a really long message. That card was all the evidence Dash would need to prove to V.I.L.E what Neal had done. As Neal stuffed the card into the envelope, Dash quietly snuck over. He went to make a grab for it, but Neal's training made him see the movement coming at him and lash out without even fully turning around. Neal's fist caught Dash on the cheek, sending the smaller man crashing into a display of party streamers.

Neal stared at him in surprise. "Oh, sorry, love." he apologized as Dash pulled himself out of the display. "You startled me. Why were you grabbing at me?"

Dash scowled at him as he rubbed at his sore face, hating Neal with every fiber of his being. "I know what you did!" he accused.

Neal simply stared at him. "Um...you'll have to be a bit more specific than that, Haberdashery, I've done a **lot** of things."

Dash flushed. "I saw the card!"

Neal raised a brow and lifted the card up. "What, this?"

"Yes, **that**!" Dash snapped.

"Oh, this is nothing." Neal responded with a shrug.

"You've started a family against V.I.L.E rules!" Dash accused, feeling very smug.

"I'm pretty sure I haven't." Neal responded with a snort.

Dash crossed his arms. "Then show me the card!"

"Sure thing." Neal said, tossing it at him.

Dash caught the card and as he began pulling it out of the envelope, Neal walked past him. "I'll be in the candy aisle."

Dash ignored him, too intent on seeing what the card said. He opened the card and his eyes fell on the first words written on it.

'50 reasons why Dash is an irritating, nosy little shit'

He glanced down and saw there were indeed 50 reasons listed and he scowled, feeling embarrassed. The whole thing had been an elaborate ploy to make him look like an idiot! He slammed the card to the floor and stomped on the smiling panda on the front. Dash was about to stomp again when he paused. Wait a second...**panda**?! The card Neal picked out had a zebra on the front! His eyes widened in realization. Bait and switch! Neal still had the real card! Letting out a curse, Dash abandoned their cart and ran for the postal office at the back of the store. Sure enough, Neal was there and was heading for the postbox, card in hand. Picking up a can of soup, he drove it at Neal as hard as he could, successfully hitting the card out of Neal's hand. Dash had excellent aim, and smirked at the shocked look on Neal's face. He then dove for the card before Neal had a chance to recover from his surprise.

He scrambled away from Neal as the other man let out an indignant cry, and the next thing he knew, Neal had tackled him to the floor.

"Give it back!" Neal ordered, reaching for the card.

"No!" Dash snarled. "You broke the rules, and you're going down for it!"

"It's not what you think!" Neal insisted, slamming an elbow into Dash's stomach.

Dash let out a cry of pain and lashed out with a knee, getting Neal in the stomach in return. As the other man laid there stunned for a second, Dash took that opportunity to begin ripping open the envelope.

"No!" Neal protested, lunging for the card.

He caught the edge of it, and they were suddenly playing tug-of-war, both swinging out at the other with a fist in an attempt to win.

"You're going to rip it!" Neal protested. "If you rip it, I'm going to shove it down your throat, Dash Haber!"

"I'd like to see you try!" Dash responded, suddenly throwing himself at Neal, knocking him backwards into a display of soup.

The whole display came down in a deafening crash, and Neal barely managed to avoid being buried under a thousand cans of soup as he rolled out of the way. Dash took off running with the card, and Neal was to his feet in an instant and took chase. Although Dash had a head start, Neal was a lot faster and he tackled Dash into a shelf just as Dash began to take the card out of the envelope. The force they hit the shelf caused it to topple over sideways and before they knew it, there was a domino effect of shelves falling down all around them. Ignoring the screams and stares they were receiving, they kicked and pummeled at each other, both trying to get the upper hand.

Dash grabbed a nearby bottle of ginger ale and slammed it into Neal's face, knocking his glasses from his face. The bottle of soda burst on contact, soaking them both, making the floor slick. Neal's gaze went to the card, but luckily it was unharmed and Dash managed to get up, kicking at Neal as he lunged for him. Neal got kicked in the chin and once again Dash was off, pulling the card out of the envelope as he went. Neal grabbed his glasses and took chase, scooping up the empty envelope as he ran, and then dove at Dash, once again knocking him into a display. A tower of salsa crashed to the floor, and bottles shattered all around them. A glob of salsa landed on the card, and Neal angrily punched Dash, reaching for the card. Dash wasn't giving up that easily and he flung a handful of the broken glass at Neal's face, and Neal barely dodged it, a piece of glass cutting him on the cheek. Dash took that opportunity to open the card and Neal jumped on him, reaching for the card as Dash began to read, kicking and punching at Neal as he did so.

**"Kia Ora, Adam! Sorry it's been a while since I've called, but it's been really busy at the sanctuary and the phone service is unreliable. Happy big 50, you old fart! I think at this point you're considered an old man, and I'd like you to know that I've already called a few retirement homes, but they didn't want you. Something about you being really lame, and them being concerned for the safety of the other old people** **. I tried to defend you, but they didn't want their residents dying just to escape your boring conversation topics. Sorry, but maybe next year. I'm in the U.S.A on a business trip right now, and so I'll be able to call you a bit more frequently for a short while. You'll probably get a call from me before this card arrives, and-"**

Dash suddenly went still and he simply stared at the card. "What **is** this?" he demanded.

Neal punched him in the stomach and snatched the card out of his hand. He wiped the salsa off the front and then glared at Dash furiously.

"What is that card?" Dash demanded, clutching his stomach from the hard punch.

"It's none of your business." Neal snapped.

Dash lashed out with a foot, and kicked him hard in the ribs. "Tell me, or I'm tattling."

Neal glowered down at him, and Dash glared right back, meaning what he said completely.

Neal then let out a groan and sagged against him in defeat, and then rolled to his feet. "**Fine**." he said grumpily. Neal then noticed that there was a large crowd of people watching and three security guards were making their way towards them. "But we should leave first."

Dash glanced around and then cursed, completely forgetting they were in a public place.

Reaching down, Neal grabbed Dash by the hand and pulled him to his feet, and they took off running without another word. Security took chase and so Neal shoved over a display of chips into their path, giving them a bit of a lead. They made it to the entrance, and they both slammed their shoulders into a security guard that tried to block their way, easily bowling him over. Once they were outside, they bolted down the sidewalk and didn't stop running until they reached their car. Jumping in, Dash started the engine and sped off with a screech of tires. He parked the car several blocks away so they could catch their breath, and Dash turned a glare at him.

"Alright, now spill it, grease-stain. What's with the card?"

Neal let out a deep groan, and then glanced down at the card in his hand. "It's a birthday card for my brother." he answered.

Dash was confused. "Why would you want to send your brother a birthday card?"

"Because...he's my brother?" Neal responded.

"Is he with V.I.L.E?"

"No, my brother is perhaps the most law-abiding citizen New Zealand has ever seen." Neal responded, rolling his eyes. "I don't think he's ever even gotten a parking ticket before. He would **never** work for V.I.L.E."

Dash crossed his arms. "Then why would you send him a card? I don't understand."

"It's my brother's birthday and I wanted to let him know I hadn't forgotten about him..." Neal said, with a frown.

"You mean you **don't** hate your family?" Dash asked in disbelief.

"Well, my brother's the only family I have, and so **no** I don't hate him."

Dash squinted at him skeptically. "**Everyone** in V.I.L.E had terrible childhoods, and **everyone** hates their family. V.I.L.E recruits operatives from bad homes on purpose. Are you lying to me?"

"Nope." Neal answered with a shrug. "I actually had a really good childhood."

Dash narrowed his eyes, and didn't believe it. "You mean you actually enjoy being around a family member?" he demanded.

"This whole conversation is starting to make me feel a little sad for you, Dash."

"Oh, shut up." Dash snapped. "What happened to the rest of your family? Why is it only a brother left?"

Neal gave him a shrug. "I was raised by my brother and never met my parents. They died in a plane crash along with the rest of my siblings when I was only a few weeks old."

Dash was still skeptical. "Why would your parents leave behind a newborn baby and go on a flight?"

"You really want to hear my whole life story, Dashie? Well, fine then."

Dash glared at him, but said nothing, simply waiting for his answer.

"My parents had to fly to Australia for my grandfather's funeral. I was sick with a cold and my oldest brother, Adam, offered to stay home with me so my parents wouldn't miss the funeral. They were only supposed to be gone for a day, but their plane's engines failed and they crashed into the ocean. My brother was only eighteen, but gained custody and raised me. He's the only family I've ever known."

Dash couldn't wrap his mind around the fact a V.I.L.E operative had a good childhood. "But your brother hit you?" he questioned.

Neal actually laughed. "Are you kidding me? Adam never laid a hand on me my whole life. He was so over-protective that I wasn't even allowed to play sports!"

Dash leaned back in his seat and frowned. "Why was he over-protective?" he asked. "Was it because the rest of your family died?"

"Well, perhaps that accounted for a **bit** of it, but in case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly normal." Neal bent one of his arms into an abnormal position, and Dash curled his lip up in disgust. "I have type 3 Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome."

"And I'm supposed to know what that is?" Dash snapped rudely.

Neal rolled his eyes. "Basically it means I have hyper-flexible joints that easily dislocate, I have skin that's very elastic, I bruise easily, I'm built very long and lanky, the scleras of my eyes are grey instead of white, I have bad teeth, a long and thin face, pointed nose, bad eyesight and a whole bunch of other stuff that you don't care about."

Dash looked Neal up and down, never considering that Neal's unusual body was due to a medical condition. "And is this condition life-threatening?"

"Well, for some it can be, but I lucked out and didn't get any of the really nasty problems. Type 3 is pretty mild in comparison to those with heart or lung defects."

"Does your brother know you're with V.I.L.E?" Dash demanded.

Neal scoffed. "Of course not, he would have had an aneurysm. He thinks I work with Mountain Zebras at a sanctuary in South Africa. He believes I've been working my way up through the company over the last 14 years, which is why I travel so much."

Dash squinted at him. "Zebras?" he repeated.

Neal gave him a shrug. "I love zebras. It was a believable lie at the time." Neal glanced down at the zebra on the front of the birthday card. "Every birthday I send him a zebra card."

Dash scowled at Neal and let out a huff of annoyance. Although Neal was technically still breaking the rules by remaining in contact with family, Dash knew V.I.L.E was unlikely to do more than lecture him about it. Neal had 14 years of service to V.I.L.E and Dash knew that awarded him with certain privileges when it came to the rules. Dash had nothing to use against him.

"Does V.I.L.E know about this Yearler-Danny Syndrome?"

"Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome." Neal corrected. "And of course they do, I still had to go through a complete medical when I joined the academy."

Dash sighed, and then glanced up the street. "I suppose we should probably find another department store."

"You gonna tattle?" Neal demanded.

Dash glared at him for a moment and then looked away. "No, I suppose not. You'll owe me a favour though."

Neal rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, love, although I **did** save your life yesterday."

Dash flushed. "I **knew** you weren't just going to let that go!" he snapped. "I would have been fine! I was just about to dodge the collapse when you stupidly jumped into me!"

"Of course." Neal agreed with a grin.

Dash glared at him, and then reached into his pocket. "You're an idiot." he commented, shoving something into his hands. "Here."

Neal glanced down and saw it was his contacts case. "My contacts! You didn't really flush them!"

"I will next time if you touch my stuff again." Dash vowed. "Now let's get to another store before you cause any more problems."

Neal nodded as Dash started the car and was silent as they drove along. He glanced down at the dirty and bent card in his hands, and opened it. There was a salsa handprint inside, but the words were still legible. He knew he should probably just get another card, but it was also kind of funny in his opinion, and he decided to just leave it the way it was. He could just imagine his brother's exasperation when he opened the envelope and caught sight of the card. That dirty and bent card couldn't have been any more Neal, and he knew his brother would still display it with the others. Once they finished with their errands, he'd find a new envelope and mail it off.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

When Neal and Dash arrived back at the motel, they dropped their bags on the floor, and both glared at one another. They had continued to bicker during the entire shopping trip and both were sick of each other. Crackle looked them up and down and could immediately tell they'd been fighting again. Both were filthy and covered in some sort of red sauce, and he frowned at them.

"I told you two not to fight!" he said angrily. "I specifically warned you!"

"We didn't fight." Neal lied with a shrug. "A shelf of salsa collapsed at the store and splattered us."

Crackle narrowed his eyes, his hand reaching for the crackle rod.

"It's true." Dash quickly agreed. "We actually got along fine for once. No arguing or anything!"

Both had their eyes fixed on the weapon and Crackle made a disapproving sound in the back of his throat, knowing they were lying but unable to prove it. He held a glare on them for an uncomfortably long time and then put away the crackle rod.

"Go get cleaned up, and you had better not so much as **look** at each other for the rest of today." he warned.

Knowing how narrowly they had come to being tased, they both gave him a nod, and headed for their dufflebags to find a change of clothes.

"Crackle, can you put on the football game?" Roosevelt asked. "It should be starting soon."

Crackle gave them one final glare and then reached for the television remote.

"Aw, rugby's better." Neal complained. "Football is for wusses."

Roosevelt looked ready to fight, but was too injured to move, and so he settled for a dark glower in Neal's direction.

Crackle turned on the tv and immediately the room filled with the sounds of a siren. Everyone glanced to the screen as a reporter stood in the middle of department store.

**"I'm on scene where two men destroyed a local department store and then fled the scene. Video surveillance caught the entire act on tape, and if anyone recognizes these two men, you are to contact your local law enforcement immediately."**

A video began playing and it clearly showed Neal and Dash violently fighting each other in the middle of the department store, all the while knocking down shelves and collapsing displays. Everyone watched the video in stunned silence as they knocked down the entire left side of the store by causing a domino effect with the shelving, never once pausing in their attempts to kill each other. It then showed them fleeing the scene and tackling a security guard on the way out, still knocking displays down as they went. Paper Star outright laughed at the carnage, and Theodore and Roosevelt simply exchanged a look with one another. Crackle slowly turned the television off and then turned to face Neal and Dash who had frozen in place.

"Aw...shit." Neal muttered.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**Next update will be within a week**

**All credit for Type 3 Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome goes to Violetfic who pointed out to me that Neal fits all criteria of this disease. It perfectly fit him, and made sense. :D**

**To anyone who wants to join a fan chat-group for Carmen Sandiego, here's a link : [Discord Fan Chat](https://discord.gg/WVetYZF)**


	10. The Whole World is Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Next chapter Team Red and Team Crackle finally meet for the first time! ^_^ It's likely going to be a long chapter, but I'll aim to have it done within a week.
> 
> Another super long chapter! I'm really starting to make a habit of this, aren't I? lol
> 
> A big thanks to Cinnalando, Violetfic and Melodymeddly for all their help and support! You guys are awesome! :D
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 10**

**The Whole World is Broken**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Chase grumbled irritably to himself as he walked down the street. The base was out of coffee and now he had to actually walk to go buy some more. He suspected the mime pretty much lived on coffee, because the boy was always nursing a large cup of it, but Chase had yet to catch him stealing any out of his stash. The only thing Chase could figure was that the mime stole it at some point during the night. Every morning when Chase would go to brew a pot, he would discover more of his coffee missing. He hadn't accused the mime of anything yet, mostly because he didn't understand a single thing he tried to sign. He decided he would let it go until he caught him in the act.

Zack flat-out refused to allow Chase to drive his car, stating that Chase's driving record was reason enough. Chase had no choice but to walk the five blocks to the nearest grocery store to buy another bag of coffee, and he wasn't happy about it. By the time he made it to the store, he was in a foul mood, and as he started to enter, two men shoved past him running as fast as they could.

"Merde!" Chase exclaimed in surprise, and then he got angry. "WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING!"

They didn't so much as look back as they continued running. Muttering angrily to himself about rude Americans, Chase entered the store and stepped over the fallen security guard without even really seeing the man.

"Disgraceful store." Chase grumbled, observing the mess that littered the floor in front of him.

Knowing Walmart had a bad reputation for being low-class, he simply began stepping over the various product laying all over the floor.

As Chase made his way deeper into the store, he saw the messes only got worse as he went along. There were shattered bottles, liquid and food on the floors and several shelves were completely collapsed. It looked like a hurricane had struck the store, and he wondered where all the employees were. Why weren't they cleaning any of this disgusting mess? He wandered around through the aisles, but couldn't seem to find coffee anywhere. His patience was paper thin and when he finally saw an employee at the end of one of the aisles, he pointed a finger at her.

"WHERE IS THE COFFEE IN THIS DISGRACEFUL STORE?"

She stared at him with wide eyes and Chase frowned.

"Please." he added.

When she simply began backing away from him slowly, Chase let out a huff. "UGH, Why do I even bother. This would never happen in France. The **French** know how to run a store! I WILL **NOT** BE BACK TO THIS STORE!"

Storming away from the employee, he made his way up another trashed aisle, knowing there had to be coffee somewhere. As he walked along, he took a deep breath and he could suddenly smell coffee, and so he followed the scent up two aisles. He found hundreds of burst bags of coffee, with millions of coffee beans spilled across the floor.

"A sad sight." Chase said, looking down at the mess. "These Americans are cruel and uncouth... What a shame."

Digging through the mess, Chase lifted up part of a shelf and saw a few in-tact bags of coffee. He grabbed two of the biggest bags he could reach, and then allowed the shelf to drop back down. As he made his way back to the front of the store, he became aware of employees running frantically past him. Ignoring the foolishness, he headed for the checkouts, but saw no one was there. He waited for a few minutes, but there was no one in sight, and he felt his annoyance increase. Scowling, Chase instead went to the self check-out near the door.

Chase tried to scan the coffee, but the machine made an angry sound.

"**Please remove all items from the scale and try scanning your item again**."

Chase glanced down and saw his hand was resting on the scale and quickly removed it. He tried to scan again, but the same noise happened.

"**Please remove all items in the bagging area prior to scanning your first item**."

"Ugh. This is ridiculous!" Chase complained, glancing over and seeing someone had left a basket in the bagging area.

Letting out a sigh, he placed the basket on the floor and tried for the third time. This time there was a normal ding as the coffee was scanned. Satisfied, he scanned the second one only for there to be another angry noise.

"**Please place all scanned items in the bagging area**."

"Oh for the love of-"

Chase tossed the bag of coffee into the bagging area and then glared at the screen, waiting for the error to clear. He then scanned the second bag and it successfully scanned through. He placed it in the bagging area, but then there was an angry ding.

"**The weight in the bagging area does not match the items purchased. Please remove any unpaid items and scan them now**."

Chase let out a long, and frustrated breath and then noticed he was leaning against the bagging area. He stepped away from it and watched as something happened on the screen.

"**Assistance is required. Someone will be with you shortly.**"

"GAH! I HATE THIS COUNTRY!" he bellowed, punching the screen with his fist.

Suddenly the message cleared.

"**Please select payment method**."

"Finally." Chase muttered, selecting the option for cash.

"**Please insert bills into the bill accepter.**"

Chase reached into his jacket pocket and then he suddenly felt complete and utter defeat. "I forgot my wallet..."

"Chase?" a very familiar voice said from behind him.

Chase spun around and came face to face with Julia Argent. Her eyes widened at the sight of him, her gaze taking in the long and ugly scar across his face.

"Oh, Chase! What happened?!" she asked, reaching out a hand towards the wound.

Chase caught her wrist, and then gently lowered it away from his face. "How did you find me?" he demanded, glancing around for signs of A.C.M.E.

"Er...I kind of heard you." she admitted. "...from all the way outside."

Chase was still looking around in a paranoid fashion, and she put a calming hand on his arm.

"It's just me here." she assured him. "I just want to talk to you."

Chase looked down at her and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Her wide and innocent eyes were completely genuine, and Chase frowned.

"What are you doing here, Miss. Argent?"

"I came to learn the truth." she told him.

"**Please insert bills into the bill accepter.**"

"The truth, Miss Argent? Why would A.C.M.E just now start caring about the truth?"

Julia was a little taken aback by the bitterness in his tone. "Chase...you know me. You **know** I only want to do the right thing. How can I know what's right if you won't even talk to me?"

Chase crossed his arms and looked away. Julia frowned at him, and then gently tugged on his arm so he was once again facing her.

"Chase, I know you're a good person, and I know you only fight for justice. I'm certain A.C.M.E is wrong about you, and I need to learn what happened. **Please** talk to me!"

"**Please insert bills into the bill accepter.**"

Julia glanced at the machine. "You can finish your transaction, and then we can go get a cup of coffee if you like?"

Chase flushed, and mumbled something under his breath about changing his mind. Julia suspected Chase had forgotten his wallet, which happened **all** the time when they were partners. Without a word, she reached into her purse and pulled out her own wallet.

"Miss Argent, what are you doing?" Chase asked impatiently. "I can buy my **own** coffee."

"Yes, of course you can, but this time is going to be my treat." she answered, inserting twenty-five dollars into the machine.

Chase flushed even more, but said nothing as the machine spit out her change and printed a receipt. She then placed his coffee into a grocery bag and handed it to him.

"How did you even get in here?" she asked. "The store's closed because it was vandalized. I heard about it on the radio and came to investigate."

Chase glanced around himself in confusion, just now putting two and two together. "...oh. I just walked in... I was **wondering** what all the mess was about."

"I had to show them my Interpol I.D to come in, and the police were waiting outside to arrest you. They seem to think you were somehow involved in the vandalism."

"Preposterous!" Chase said angrily.

"I told them you were my partner." Julia said, offering him a smile. "Let's get out of here and then we can talk, okay?"

Chase gave another glance around, and then eyed Julia sternly. "I will speak with you, Miss Argent, but if this is a trick, I will **never** forgive you."

Julia nodded and adjusted her glasses. "Understood."

As they walked from the store, Chase saw a swarm of police officers and news reporters outside. He passed them by a bit nervously, and then followed Julia into the parking lot. Suddenly, he heard Carmen come across his com.

"Devineaux?"

"Yes, I'm here." Chase replied, pressing a finger to the com.

Julia watched him, quickly realizing he had a state-of-the-art com. He was most likely communicating with Carmen Sandiego, and she watched him in interest.

Chase eyed Julia with suspicious eyes, and then stepped a few steps away so he could privately have a conversation with Carmen. He was only turned away for a minute, and then he approached Julia.

"I need to go." he told her. "Something important came up."

"But, Chase, I need to speak with you!" Julia protested.

Chase rolled his eyes with a sigh. "Give me your phone number, Miss Argent. I will call you when I have the chance."

Julia hurriedly pulled a pen and paper out of her purse and scribbled her number on it. Chase glanced down at it, nodded and then turned to leave.

"Do not follow me, Miss Argent otherwise you will never hear from me again."

"I won't follow." Julia promised.

"Goodbye Miss Argent. I will be in touch."

Julia frowned as she watched him walk away and clenched her fists. Something was definitely happening, and she needed to know what. What had happened to Chase's face? What could have caused such a terrible scar?

Letting out a worried sigh, Julia turned and headed in the direction of her car. All she could do was wait for his call.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**"I'm on scene where two men destroyed a local department store and then fled the scene. Video surveillance caught the entire act on tape, and if anyone recognizes these two men, you are to contact your local law enforcement immediately."**

Team Red sat in the living room staring at the television screen watching the news as Neal and Dash completely destroyed a Walmart while trying to kill one another.

"That is a very, **very** odd choice of partnership." Carmen observed. "Those two couldn't **be** more of complete opposites."

Shadowsan scratched at his chin. "It is indeed unusual." he agreed.

"Play it again!" Tigress demanded, barely able to choke out the words past her hysterical laughter. "Oh, my god! This is the most hilarious thing I've ever seen! Did you see Dash Haber's face when he got slammed into the floor? Play it again. Play it again!"

Player played the clip on a loop for Tigress, and then asked. "Do you think they're here to steal something?"

"Most likely, because what else could it be? There are plenty of valuable things in the museums."

"Hopefully they're not here to track down our new family members." Player promised. "I'll do some sleuthing and see if I can figure it out."

"Leave the video looping!" Tigress ordered.

Shadowsan stared thoughtfully at the screen. "That partnership is pure chaos and will never work. I don't know what V.I.L.E were thinking partnering Neal the Eel and Dash Haber together."

Carmen smirked. "It's true, slime and Gucci don't mix well."

Zack recognized Dash but had never actually met Neal before. "That's the slippery guy?" he questioned.

El Topo nodded. "Neal the Eel is well known amongst operatives..."

Le Chèvre crossed his arms. "He's disgusting." he commented. "Ugh."

El Topo hesitated and then nodded his agreement. "He is." he confirmed.

"It's odd." Shadowsan commented. "Dash Haber is not even officially a real operative, he just happens to be a talented courier. Why they would pair him up with a seasoned operative is beyond me. Especially **this** seasoned operative."

Ivy shot him a grin. "Not a fan of the Oily Wonder?" she teased.

"Neal is..." Shadowsan trailed off as he struggled to find the right words to describe him. "...a difficult person to get along with."

"Because he's slimy?" Zack questioned.

"No, because of his mouth." Shadowsan grumbled. "Out of all the students I taught over the years, he is the only one who succeeded in making me lose my temper during class."

Everyone stared at him with wide eyes. They had **never** seen Shadowsan fully lose his temper, not even during fights.

"What did he do?" Carmen asked in awe.

"No, it doesn't matter. We should focus on the task at hand."

"Oh, come on!" Zack whined. "Tell uuuuuuus!"

Shadowsan made a disapproving noise in the back of his throat.

"Tell us, tell us, tell us!" Zack and Ivy chanted, smiling at him widely.

Shadowsan sighed. "Very well." he said in a resigned voice. "This has no importance to the current mission, but I suppose I can tell you a little bit about Neal the Eel."

Everyone was staring at him in complete interest and so Shadowsan sat back, his tone entering teacher mode. "Neal was part of the class of 2005. He was eighteen when he entered the academy, and didn't show any real promise as an operative. He was incredibly shy, lacked confidence and was bullied excessively. We were actually planning on sending him home after first term."

"Oh, ouch." Zack commented. "That's harsh."

Carmen frowned, knowing this sounded nothing like the Neal she knew. "What changed?" she asked.

Shadowsan closed his eyes and a momentary look of guilt crossed his face. "He crawled into a vent to escape his bullies and became stuck."

Carmen's frown deepened, this seeming really familiar to her.

"And?" Ivy prompted.

"He was deep within the foundations of the building and we weren't able to rescue him. V.I.L.E decided they had no choice but to leave him to die. He stayed in there for nearly 4 days before he managed to escape."

Carmen had a brief flash of memory, remembering being inside a vent where there was an older boy crying. She remembered thinking it strange to see one of the big kids crying, and she tried to cheer him up. That was all she could remember, and she frowned. Was that boy Neal? She couldn't think of anyone else who would crawl through such narrow spaces, and knew it probably was. Did she meet him while he was trapped in the vents, or was that during a different time? Carmen wished she could remember, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't

"How did he manage to get himself out?" El Topo asked, knowing how horrible it would've been to be trapped in such a small and dark spot. He himself had been trapped a few times when his tunnels collapsed, and it was terrifying.

"He would never say." Shadowsan replied. "He was different from that point on, and it was like he was a completely new person. It was like his time in that vent changed his whole personality. Perhaps the fear of his own demise made his mind fracture, or perhaps it was the dehydration. Whatever it was, he came out changed."

Zack was horrified. "He was trapped in a vent for **four** days?! Without food or water?"

"That is correct."

Zack felt sick just thinking about it.

"Neal was suddenly cocky, overly confident, and fearless enough to start fighting back against his bullies. It was like he no longer feared death, and he took unnecessary risks during combat. He quickly began improving in all his classes, and was allowed to finish out the year."

"But he didn't improve in **your** class?" Zack guessed.

Shadowsan looked like it pained him to admit it, but he said "He did excellent in my class. Once of the best I've ever had. He's extremely quick and nimble."

"Then what was the problem?" Ivy demanded. "Sounds like he was the ideal V.I.L.E student."

Shadowsan scowled. "With his personality change came **other** problems. He no longer respected the faculty because he blamed us for leaving him in the vents to die. He never actually said so, but I always suspected it. He wasn't outright disrespectful, and he did everything he needed to for class, but he started doing little things to annoy me.

It wasn't much at first, just the occasional inappropriate origami shape left tucked into his homework, or he'd use neon-coloured paper instead of white. Little things like that. As the second term progressed, he began escalating his petty annoyances. He would ask questions in class, but simply not stop talking once he got started. No matter what I responded to him, he would ask question after question, but in a completely polite and respectful tone. Sometimes he would find a way to waste the entire class, and none of my lectures or detentions ever seemed to have an effect on him.

Finally, he began teasing the other students and causing problems in the middle of class. He enjoyed 'sliming' other students with his slick suit, and he simply wouldn't stop. I reached my limits when he tried doing the same thing to me."

Carmen gasped. "He didn't!"

Every former V.I.L.E operative in the room stared at him in complete horror.

"Oh my god!" Tigress commented. "And you didn't snap his greasy little throat?"

Shadowsan frowned for a moment before he continued. "I was giving a lecture about the importance of silence, and he wouldn't stop talking. I knew he was doing it on purpose just to annoy me and I was beginning to lose my patience. I ordered him to the front of the class to prove he could be quiet if the need arose, and it didn't go well. He put an arm around my shoulders and when I pushed him away, he left slime all across my clothes. **That** I could have ignored, but it was what he did next that caused me to lose my temper. I ordered the class to close their eyes, and told Neal to choose anyone in class to target and try to strike them without making a single sound."

Carmen could already see where this was going and winced. "He chose you." she said.

Shadowsan nodded. "He chose me."

He got more horrified looks.

"When I look back on it now, it was my fault for not being more vigilant. I had turned to face the class so I could watch who he chose, and Neal took that opportunity to drop to the floor and swipe my feet out from under me. It took me by surprise and he successfully knocked me off my feet.

He looked so **very** smug as he looked down at me and I still remember what he said perfectly. 'Why Instructor Shadowsan, I believe I succeeded!'. It was the expression on his face that made me lose my temper. I got back to my feet and I slapped him as hard as I could across the face. I then made him kneel in front of the class and hold a chair over his head for the remainder of the day while I lectured him publicly in front of everyone. I later regretted losing my temper the way I did because Neal had a hand-shaped bruise on his face for the next two weeks."

"To be fair, he seemed to have had it coming." Ivy said. "I bet he never did anything like **that** again!"

"He was well-behaved for about a day." Shadowsan replied with a roll of his eyes. "He never dared attack me again, but he was an irritation until the day he graduated. He works best when he's alone which makes this partnership with Dash Haber so bizarre."

"Sheena, didn't you send Neal to the medical bay once?" El Topo asked, scratching his head thoughtfully.

Tigress smirked proudly. "Sure did. Creep was hitting on me at the Yule party. Never heard a man scream like that before in my life. I don't know why you liked him, Antonio."

El Topo shrugged. "He may be a bit...gross, but he's actually quite nice when you get to know him. He's one of the few operatives that you can ask for help without worrying about owing him anything in return."

"He's so creepy!" Tigress commented. "He's always slithering through vents, leaving his slime behind everywhere he goes. You heard Shadowsan's story! The guy is brain-damaged."

El Topo frowned at her. "Don't forget it was Neal who traced Carmen to The United States. Without him, we never would have known where to go."

Carmen was alarmed. "Wait what?" she demanded. "Neal the Eel traced our location?"

El Topo nodded. "He traced the payment you made to the French hospital in Poitiers."

Carmen was now concerned. "I didn't know Neal could hack!" she exclaimed, a bit worried. "What else does he know? Did he trace us to San Diego?"

El Topo gave her an uncertain shrug. "I'm sorry...I do not know."

Carmen pressed her com. "Player, Neal the Eel is a hacker. Be careful what you do online or he could trace your location."

Player snorted. "Not a chance, Red, I have better security than even V.I.L.E. No one is finding me."

"Just be careful." she advised him.

"Aye aye." the boy replied.

Tigress glanced once more at the fight on the screen. "It's going to be so much fun ripping this grease-stains throat out."

"We don't kill on this team, remember?" El Topo scolded. "We should avoid hurting anyone if we can help it."

Tigress scoffed. "Whatever you say, Antonio...Say, Mime Bomb, didn't you partner with him for a while?"

Mime Bomb held up his index finger.

"Once?" Zack guessed, and Mime Bomb nodded.

"He was partnered with Neal just for his first mission." Shadowsan stated. "Both tend to work better alone and so it was rare we gave them partners after that."

Tigress' gaze went back to the fight on the tv screen and she let out another snort. "Oh, this is too good." she commented. "I wonder what it is they're fighting over?"

"Hard to tell." Carmen said, squinting at the flat beige item that Dash clutched in his hands. "It looks like an envelope. I wish there was audio on this video."

"I can't wait to claw both of these losers right in the face." Tigress commented, grinning widely. "I've been itching for a good fight! You should let me handle them!"

"We're not going to jump into anything without first getting all the facts." Carmen replied. "We have no idea why they're here, and we'll wait to see what Player finds out before tracking them down."

Tigress let out a sigh. "Fine, but I call dibs on fighting the dweebs."

"You can't just call 'dibs' on a mission, Sheena. That's not how it works. We will face any mission together as a team."

"That's stupid." Tigress commented. "We should be able to have some fun once in a while."

"Sheena." Carmen began with a sigh. "We **really** need to have a talk about how things work in this team."

"Where is Agent Doesntknow, anyway? Why isn't he here?" Tigress demanded.

"He went out this morning to run a few errands." Carmen replied.

"Hopefully he doesn't run into V.I.L.E." Antonio said worriedly.

Carmen frowned, and then pressed her com. "Devineaux?"

"Yes, I'm here." Chase replied a moment later.

"There's been some V.I.L.E activity in the area and you should come back to base." Carmen instructed.

"I'm assuming you mean what happened at Walmart?" he questioned.

"You know about that?"

"Oui. I am standing on site right now." he said.

"It's too dangerous, Chase, come back to base at once."

Chase let out a long and aggravated sigh. "Very well. I'm on my way."

"I still say I should get dibs on the fight." Tigress said petulantly.

"And I said **no**." Carmen responded, getting irritated.

"I'm the best fighter in our group!"

"You always lost against me!"

As they continued arguing back and forth, Mime Bomb got up from the couch and made his way back to his room. Once he was by himself, he took a seat on his bed and pulled a sheet of paper out from under his pillow. It was his lost person's poster that he'd printed out earlier that day, and he stared down at it with a frown. His gaze settled on his sister's name at the bottom of the page, and he reached out and ran his fingers along her name, a strange sadness filling him. Even 15 years later she was still looking for him, and he wasn't sure how to feel about that. He'd assumed she had forgotten about him, and he honestly felt a bit guilty about not even thinking about her in years.

They were complete opposites in every way, and whereas he liked drama and the arts, she had been a fearless jock only interested in sports. He remembered how Alys had been protective of him as a kid, and she had fearlessly kept the bullies away from him when he entered school. They'd been happy back then before-

Mime Bomb's hand crinkled the paper as he clenched his hand. He took a deep breath and then straightened the paper, his gaze settling on the phone number. His sister's phone number. His gaze then moved over to Zack's bed where the other boy had left his cell phone. He stared long and hard at the phone and then reached over and grabbed it. Not quite sure what he was hoping to accomplish with this, he unlocked the phone and then began dialing the country code for Wales. As he typed his sister's number in, he paused when he came to the last number. Taking another deep breath, he finished dialing and lifted the phone to his ear and he waited as the call began to ring through.

"Bore da." a woman's voice answered.

Mime Bomb stopped breathing. He didn't recognize the voice, but his sister was a child the last time he saw her. Was this Alys?

"Bore da?" the woman repeated.

Mime Bomb still didn't breathe, not really sure what to do.

"Bore da? Hello?" the woman repeated, sounding a bit confused. "[[Who would be calling me from California?]] she muttered to herself in Welsh.

It had been so long since Mime Bomb had heard anyone speak Welsh that he accidentally released his breath.

The woman immediately responded in English. "Look, creepy weirdo breathing into the phone, I don't have all day."

Mime Bomb of course said nothing.

The woman let out an angry sigh. "What kind of scam are you creeps trying to pull **this** time? I'm not an idiot and I'm not going to fall for whatever it is. Either you speak up **now** or I'm going to hunt you down and shove your head so far up your arse you'll be smelling your lungs!"

Mime Bomb was now 100% certain this was Alys.

"Call here again, and you'll regret it!" Alys snarled into the phone disconnecting the call.

Mime Bomb slowly lowered the phone and stared down at it, not sure how he felt now. He thought by just calling her, it might help him get past this confused and sad feeling in the pit of his stomach, but it didn't. 

Mime Bomb hadn't thought about Wales in an incredibly long time, and his thoughts turned to the rain and fog he remembered that seemed to always surround Wales. He remembered the smell of the wet fields around their property, and the feeling of the cold rain as it soaked into him as he jumped in puddles. He used to love playing in the rain, and would spend hours simply hopping from one puddle to another. He loved making up elaborate stories about why he was trapped in the rain, pretending he was exploring a planet where it only rained or that he was an explorer in a rain forest.

He was completely content to play by himself in the rain, and by the time he would finally trudge back inside, he'd be cold, soaking wet and covered in mud. His grandmother would chide him angrily as she ushered him into a warm bath, and his mother would simply laugh, always amused by his antics.

Mime Bomb clenched a fist. He didn't have a lot of memories of his mother, but all the ones he did have were good ones. She was always smiling and she liked to laugh, and she loved the arts as much as he did. They were both huge theater nerds and she took him to all the local plays and performances in town. She encouraged his interests and made sure he attended any auditions for children. It was through this that Mime Bomb got stage experience, and he'd performed in several plays and even a few commercials. His grandmother had been extremely disapproving, thinking Mime Bomb should have been playing sports instead of wearing make-up on a stage. No one paid her any attention however. His sister was the athlete in the family, and he had been perfectly content to leave the sports to her.

Although most of his memories were a bit fuzzy, one stood out perfectly clear in his mind. He could remember every detail of the time after his mother's death.

It had been an extremely bitter winter the year his mother died. They got an unexpected blizzard and his mother wasn't prepared for it. She had hit a patch of black ice on the road, and struck a tree at full speed. 'She had died on impact and there was no suffering' is what he later overheard the adults saying, but that wasn't the case for his sister. She had been hurt badly and almost hadn't survived. Her spine had been fractured and there was no chance of her ever walking again. He hadn't really understood what that meant at the time, but when she finally came home from the hospital, she was in a wheelchair.

Mime Bomb remembered approaching his mother's casket at the funeral, still not really believing it was her. He had stared at the body carefully, determined to see proof this was not her. He had reached out and placed his hand on her cheek and he remembered the body was cold and didn't feel right under his fingers. The skin almost didn't feel real, and he gave it a hesitant poke. It was waxy and stiff and felt completely wrong. He had jerked his hand back in fear so fast he rocked the casket, and several men quickly steadied it before it could fall. Mime Bomb's grandmother had sent him a furious look for misbehaving, and he could hear people whispering around him.

"She was going to pick him up from some sort of club when she crashed."

"Yes, I heard he didn't want to carpool with the other kids and demanded she come get him."

"It was because of him she was out in that mess to begin with."

"She always did give that boy everything he wanted."

"Spoiled child."

"What a shame."

"She was such a lovely woman."

Mime Bomb had then run from the church as his grandmother angrily called after him. What they said was all true. One of the kids from the drama class had been bullying him and he didn't want to carpool with him. He had called up his mother and begged and pleaded for her to come get him, and she had reluctantly agreed. It was his fault she had gone out in the storm, and it was his fault she had died. Alys would never be able to walk again, and he was to blame. His grandmother had been cold and distant with him ever since the accident and Mime Bomb wished with all his heart his mother would come back. Living in the house without her was torture, and he slept in her room at night just so he could be surrounded by her scent. Her perfume smelled of lilacs and he still remembered it perfectly, even after all these years.

Alys was understandably depressed after the accident and their grandmother didn't know what to do with a girl so sad and **so** filled with rage. She was angry at the injustice of it all, and took out her frustration on everyone around her. Alys had heard the adults speaking and she had heard them say the accident was Mime Bomb's fault, and she believed it. The last thing she ever said to him before she was sent away to boarding school was that she hated him and she hoped he died. He hadn't seen or spoken to her since.

Mime Bomb glanced back down at the missing persons poster. He was certain she hated him, but yet she had been searching for him all these years. Why did she want to find him? Did she finally want to say all the angry things she'd been harbouring since the accident? What was he supposed to do now? Forget he found out she was looking for him? A hollow numbness seemed to press on his chest, and Mime Bomb had no idea what to do. He wasn't sure he could handle her rejection, and was terrified of what she would say. It felt like a heavy pressure was beginning to suffocate him, and Mime Bomb took a deep and shaky breath.

The bedroom opened and Zack walked in, smiling over at him brightly. The smile dropped away in an instant at the sight of Mime Bomb’s expression, and he rushed over to him, his face bunched in concern.

"Mime Bomb?" he asked, sounding a bit alarmed. "What's the matter?"

Mime Bomb simply stared at him in confusion.

Zack reached out and placed his hands on Mime Bomb's shoulders. "Come on, buddy, don't look at me like that! What happened?"

Mime Bomb had no idea why Zack was acting like this and simply shook his head.

"Come on, man, why are you crying? Tell me so I can help."

Mime Bomb frowned. Crying? What was Zack talking about? He wasn't crying! Raising a hand to his face, his fingers came back wet. Oh. He really **was** crying. He stared at his wet fingers feeling somewhat detached, not even realizing he was that upset over this. Zack glanced down at the poster resting on Mime Bomb's lap, and understanding crossed his face. 

Without another word, he pulled Mime Bomb into a tight hug. Mime Bomb stared over Zack's shoulder at the wall, still feeling a cold numbness deep within his chest. His vision began to blur and when he blinked, he felt the hotness of tears make their way down his face.

His breath then caught in his throat and he melted into the hug, not even trying to hold back his silent sobs. He felt Zack tighten his hold on him, and Mime Bomb closed his eyes, the tension in his chest finally beginning to lessen.

"You want to see her, don't you." It wasn't a question.

Mime Bomb wasn't even able to look at him, embarrassed and unable to stop the tears. He didn't understand why he was so upset over this, and was feeling confused and stressed. **Did** he want to see her? Did he miss Alys, or was this something else? He didn't even know what she looked like, the only face he could see in his mind was the face of a child from 15 years ago.

"You know, for a long time, Ivy was the only family I had and we depended on each other for everything. I know how important family is, and your sister is the only blood family you have left. You've been alone for **so** long, and it's only natural to want to reconnect with her. She's looking for ya, bud, and I think you need to see her."

Mime Bomb shook his head and Zack glanced down at him.

"No? Why not?"

Mime Bomb gripped his shirt tightly but made no move to communicate.

"Did she do something to you?"

Mime Bomb shook his head and then pointed at himself, violently jabbing his finger into his own shoulder. Zack frowned, thoroughly confused.

"She didn't do something, but **you** did?" he guessed.

Mime Bomb nodded, and averted his gaze.

"Weren't you only seven when you last saw her?"

Another nod.

"What could you possibly have done to her?" he demanded.

Mime Bomb leaned back away from him and then wiped at his eyes. He then punched one hand into the other.

"You hit her?"

Mime Bomb shook his head and pointed to Zack's Nascar poster and then repeated the gesture. "You...You caused the car accident?" Zack said hesitantly.

Mime Bomb nodded and then pointed to the missing person's poster.

"Are you trying to say you caused the car accident that killed your mother and hurt your sister?" Zack demanded, completely aghast.

Mime Bomb hunched in on himself and then nodded.

Zack reached out, took Mime Bomb by the shoulders and turned him so they were face to face. Zack's eyes were absolutely fierce and Mime Bomb was a bit taken aback by the ferocity of the look.

"You are **not** responsible for that car accident." Zack said, his tone not to be reckoned with. "You were just a kid waiting for his mom to pick him up and something terrible happened. The same thing could have happened at any time to anyone, and just because she was picking you up does **not** mean you are in any way responsible for it. It wasn't your fault."

Mime Bomb tried to look away but he was startled when Zack suddenly gave him a sharp shake.

"It wasn't your fault." he repeated.

A few more tears slid down Mime Bomb's cheeks and Zack gave him another shake.

"It **wasn't** your fault." he repeated again, just as firmly. "If I asked you to come pick me up at the mall and you got hurt in a car accident, would you blame me?"

Mime Bomb slowly shook his head.

"Do you think your sister blames you for the accident?"

Mime Bomb hesitated and then nodded.

"Why do you think she would blame you for this?"

Mime Bomb paused and then pointed to his mouth. Zack frowned at him, and so he mimed speaking and again pointed to his mouth.

"Talking?" Zack guessed and Mime Bomb nodded.

"She told you she blames you?"

Mime Bomb nodded and looked down at his lap, avoiding Zack's eyes. Zack tipped up Mime Bomb's chin, forcing him to maintain eye contact.

"Even if she did say that, she didn't mean it." he assured him. "Your sister was just a kid and she was angry and sad. She's been looking for you for so long and so hard, and there's no way she blames you for what happened."

Zack could see the fear and uncertainty in Mime Bomb's eyes and it killed him knowing Mime Bomb had been holding onto this guilt for 15 years.

"There's only one way to find out." Zack told him. "If she **does** blame you, then she's not worth knowing as a person. We know your value here, and we know you're not to blame. If she can't see how great of a person you are, then it's **her** loss not yours."

Mime Bomb grimaced, but didn't seem like he was going to disagree. Zack stared at him, making sure Mime Bomb seemed alright and then finally released his shoulders.

"There's only one thing for us to decide now." he told his friend.

Mime Bomb gave him a questioning look.

"When are we going to Wales?"

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Neal was resting face down on his bed, multiple ice-packs on his body, as he stared up at the television. Roosevelt had put on a rugby game for him, and at least now Neal had something to do while he laid there in agony. Turning his head slightly, he glanced over at Dash and saw he still hadn't come to yet. Dash had gotten it a lot worse than he did, because when it was Neal's turn to be beaten, Crackle discovered just how severe Neal's bruises were on his back. To Neal's humiliation, Crackle made him strip right in the middle of the room so he could see just how bad the damage was. Crackle was not happy about the extent of the bruises, and Neal knew most were from the rubble that struck him when he saved Dash's life. Crackle decided Neal was too injured to be beaten, and instead switched on the Crackle Rod.

Crackle then shocked him, and every time Neal began to recover, he was immediately shocked again. The power was just low enough that he never fully lost consciousness, and he felt the pain of every single shock as it coursed through him. He couldn't stop the screams that escaped him, but Crackle was relentless.

Neal was shocked and shocked until he was certain every muscle in his body had seized up, and then Crackle had turned the power up on the Crackle Rod and shocked him unconscious. When he awoke, he was laying in bed with ice-packs all over his body, and it was just Roosevelt and Dash in the room.

Roosevelt told him the others had gone out patrolling, and they were ordered to stay in the motel. Neal doubted he could have moved anyway. Roosevelt seemed like he was making an extra effort to be nice to him, and it was surprising when the other man put on a rugby game for him.

"How long was I out for?" Neal asked.

Roosevelt gave a shrug. "Hour maybe?"

Neal nodded, and silently watched a bit of the game, not really able to pay too much attention to it. After a while, there was a low groan from Dash and Neal saw him shift a bit. He watched him as he slowly came to, and when Dash finally opened his eyes, they looked at one another silently.

"No fighting." Roosevelt warned them both. "I'm supposed to rat on you if you fight."

Dash winced as he slowly rolled onto his side, and he looked Neal over, but couldn't see much of him because of all the ice-packs. "How bad did you get it?" he asked.

Neal knew Dash would be **furious** if he found out he hadn't been beaten, and so he deflected the question. "Crackle and the others went out patrolling for Team Red. Things are bound to get interesting soon."

Dash frowned at him and as he sat up, Neal caught sight of a nasty bruise across his side from where Crackle had struck him. "Team Red is not going to stand a chance against us." Dash told him. "They're too caught up 'doing the right thing' to ever finish any of us off. Even if we lose a few battles we'll eventually win the war. We're willing to go further than them, and we're willing to kill. We **will** win."

"Have you even killed anyone before?" Neal asked, cocking a brow in amusement. "You're talking about killing them so casually."

Dash gave him a dirty look. "Yes, I **have** had to kill before." he snapped.

Neal was skeptical. "Oh? How did you do it?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but it was with a gun. When I was sent up to Russia to check on a few things, I ran into trouble. Things were an enormous mess up there, and Professor Maelstrom needed it sorted out. I don't want to go into it, but I was left with no choice and had to shoot to survive. I killed five men that day."

Neal could see a brief haunted look flash through Dash's eyes as he recounted this, and realized the other man was telling the truth.

"Killing is never easy." Neal told him, his gaze growing distant. "You try not to think about it, but it stays with you forever. You think that you'll forget them over time, but you don't. You will always remember their faces."

Dash stared at him, his expression completely aghast. "Just how many people have you killed?!" he demanded.

Neal closed his eyes. "Too many." he was silent for a moment and then asked. "Are you certain you'll be alright killing people that you personally know?"

Dash was instantly offended. "Are you accusing me of being too weak to kill Carmen Sandiego?" he snarled.

"Killing someone you know is different than killing a stranger." Neal clarified. "I just want to make sure you're prepared for this. V.I.L.E never prepared **me** when they ordered me to kill someone I knew, and it was...difficult."

"Geez, just how hard did Crackle hit you in the head?" Dash demanded.

"Not as hard as I 'hit up' your sister last night, if you know what I mean." Neal teased.

Dash rolled his eyes. "I don't even **have** a sister."

"Fine, brother then, I'm not fussy."

"I don't have a brother either."

"Ah, so you grew up as an only child in your fancy mansion. No wonder you're such a prat."

"No fighting!" Roosevelt ordered. "Don't make me tell Crackle on you."

Neal sighed.

Dash stared at Neal in annoyance, but didn't reply. Slowly standing to his feet, he took a shaky step and then gripped the bedpost to steady himself. Waiting until the shakiness passed, he trudged his way to the bathroom without a word. Neal glanced back at the television screen, but couldn't enjoy the game in this condition.

"You can put it on football if you want." he told Roosevelt. "I'm probably going to take a nap."

Roosevelt didn't need to be told twice and snatched up the remote to change the channel as fast as he could.

"Rugby's still better." Neal commented, closing his eyes.

"You're lucky you're so hurt right now." Roosevelt muttered.

Neal gave a chuckle. "I feel very lucky right now, Roosey." he said, having a feeling the sarcasm would be lost on the other man.

Neal lightly dozed for a while, but was awakened when someone gently shook his shoulder. Opening his eyes, he saw Crackle kneeling down beside him.

"Go take a bath." Crackle ordered.

“Do I smell that bad, love?" Neal asked jokingly.

"I added some medicated powder to the bathwater and it should help with the bruises. Soak in the water for at least an hour, and then we'll apply some bruise balm. We need to get you back in top form as fast as possible."

Neal turned his head and saw everyone had returned and he hadn't heard them come in. "Did you find any signs of Team Red?" he asked.

Crackle frowned. "No, not yet. We were mostly getting a feel for the city during our patrol. I have a plan for drawing them out into the open, but I'll need your help to plant the information online. I'm thinking we should plan the fake heist in four days time if we don't locate Team Red."

Neal gave a nod.

"Can you get up?" Crackle asked him.

"We'll find out." Neal replied, slowly and painfully sitting up. Realizing he was still naked as he sat up, he wrapped a blanket around his waist, and then struggled to get up, his muscles aching from the repeated shocks. Crackle took him by an arm to help him up, and then Neal began limping his way towards the bathroom, ignoring how everyone stared at his bruises as he passed by.

Dash was horrified by the massive bruises that covered Neal's entire back and he shot Crackle a scared look.

"I didn't do that." Crackle replied. "Those bruises are from rubble that hit him at the parking garage."

Dash frowned, and glanced towards the closed bathroom door. He clearly remembered that when Neal dove into him at the parking garage, rubble had hit Neal hard in the back. Neal seemed fine at the time and he hadn't really given it much thought, but it was clear he'd been seriously hurt. Neal had gotten those injuries saving his life. Dash furrowed his brow and wasn't sure how he felt about that. Neal was an insufferable idiot, but he was still his teammate.

"Should he be taken to a doctor?" Dash asked.

Crackle shook his head. "He just needs time to heal. Hopefully he'll be less stiff by tomorrow, and everyone will be able to go out on patrol with us. Roosevelt should be able to get up tomorrow and join as well."

A little over an hour later Neal left the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, and smelling like medicine. He was walking better than before, and when he approached the bed, Crackle was opening a large jar of Dr. Vesalius' Bruise Balm. Dr. Vesalius, or more commonly known as Dr. Vess, was the highly valued V.I.L.E doctor responsible for any and all medical emergencies that happened within the V.I.L.E academy. He was a genius who worked closely with Dr. Bellum to invent new and sometimes questionable medical advancements. If this balm was one of his inventions, then it was guaranteed to both work and probably be extremely painful at the same time. Dr. Vess didn't care if his cures were painful as long as they did what they were supposed to, and Neal eyed the balm distrustfully.

"How'd you get that so fast?" he asked.

"When I saw your bruises yesterday I contacted V.I.L.E and had them send something for your injuries. It just arrived this afternoon."

Neal snorted. "What'd they do, Fedex it overnight?" His gaze then fell on an open Fedex box laying nearby. "Oh...they **did**."

"Lay on your stomach." Crackle ordered. "I need to apply the balm while the chemicals from the bath are still on your skin."

Neal gave him a nod, reaching for a pair of boxers from his dufflebag. Everyone averted their eyes as he dropped the towel to the floor, and as soon as he had the boxers on, he crawled onto the bed. As Crackle grabbed a handful of the balm, Neal squeezed his eyes closed, waiting for the pain. He winced as the cold balm touched his skin, and he waited, but surprisingly enough, there was no pain. Relaxing in relief, Neal laid still as Crackle very gently worked the balm into the bruises. When Crackle was done, new ice-packs were placed on his back and Neal groaned in complaint. He was already too cold, but knew there was nothing he could do about it.

"No moving unless you need the bathroom." Crackle ordered, screwing the lid back on the jar.

"Whatever you say, wombat." Neal said, resting his chin on one of his arms.

"We'll reapply tomorrow morning before patrol. The doctor said you'll need to keep using the balm until the bruises begin to fade."

"Did doctor creepy have anything else to say?" Neal asked in amusement.

"Yes, actually. He told me to inform you that you missed getting your flu shot. He recommends you get it before you catch the bad strain that's going around."

Neal rolled his eyes. "Okay."

"Since you have to remain in bed, I'm giving you some research to do." Crackle informed him, placing a tablet into his hands.

Neal gave him a look of disbelief. "What kind of research?"

"I want you to study the electrical components of an industrial mulcher."

Neal simply stared at him."...okay. Is there any particular reason **why** I'm going to be researching this?"

"It's part of the plan." Crackle told him. "If for any reason I can't do my part of the plan, I need you to be able to step in. Make sure you research it thoroughly."

Neal crinkled his nose in distaste. "Why me?" he demanded. "Dash is better at electrical stuff than I am."

"Because I'm still mad at you." Crackle informed him with a shrug, turning away.

"...fair enough." Neal said with a sigh. Considering he escaped a beating, he really couldn't complain too much. "Could you drag my bag over so I can get my headphones, please?"

Crackle placed the bag within easy reach of Neal and then said. "I'm going out to grab us supper. I'll be back in an hour or so. Everyone stay in the motel room."

As soon as he was gone, Neal let out another sigh of resignation, and then turned on the tablet. 

"Neal?"

Neal glanced over at Dash who was staring at him with an unreadable look on his face.

"Yes, Dashielle Habernacle?" Neal asked with a smirk.

Surprisingly, Dash didn't get mad. "Look, about what happened at the parking garage..."

Neal furrowed his brow. "Yes?" he prompted in confusion.

"I know you got hurt when you pushed me out of the way in there and...and well...I just wanted to...I wanted to say..."

A sly grin started to form on Neal's face. "Are you trying to thank me?" he questioned.

A flush came to Dash's face and he gave him a glare with so much venom that Neal immediately laughed.

"No!" Dash snarled. "Of **course** not! I just wanted to tell you not to get hurt in such a **stupid** way again! You are jeopardizing our mission just because you were **stupid** enough to get hit with a chunk of concrete! **Stupid**!"

Neal gave him a wide and smug smile. "You're welcome."

Dash gave him an even angrier look, and then turned away. "I don't know why I even bothered trying to talk to you." he muttered. "You're impossible. I wish you had've been crushed under the rubble."

Neal laughed. "Love ya too, Dashie."

"Oh, shut up." Dash growled, flopping down on his bed, facing away from him.

Neal chuckled and then put on his headphones. Plugging the headphones into the tablet, he clicked on the YouTube app and began searching for industrial mulchers. 

Every video looked absolutely dreadful and he was **already** bored and he hadn't even started yet. Scrolling through the videos for one that caught his eye, he spotted a video with a young man wearing a koala mask. Why was this man wearing a koala mask while repairing an industrial mulcher? The title of the video was 'How to reassemble industrial mulchers' and so it seemed like a good place to start. He glanced at the username and saw it was ‘The Australian Electrical Genius’. Not as good as a Kiwi, but at least it was close to home. Clicking on the video, he prepared himself to be bored.

A man wearing a koala mask walked into the frame of the video and stood in front of a mulcher. Brown hair stuck out in messy spikes around the mask, and he struck a pose, hands on hips for the camera.

"Hello, loyal viewers!" said a very familiar voice. "Are you ready to rip this beaut apart?"

Neal's eyes widened and he stared down at the tablet in disbelief. No way! It couldn't be!

"You know I love a good solid piece of machinery, and this one is a veeery unique one. The wiring for this model is set up in a way I haven't seen before, and I'll show you what I mean."

Neal sat there completely transfixed throughout the entire 25 minute video, still uncertain whether he was right. When the end of the video came, the man once again stood in front of the camera.

"I suppose you've been wondering why I made this video while wearing a koala mask?"

"Yeah, kinda." Neal admitted out loud.

"I'm wearing it because I damn well felt like it." the man said, humour in his tone. "If you want to see more content from me, make sure to click on the link below to my main channel where I'm an Australian being an Australian."

Neal clicked that link without hesitation. He then clicked on a random video and sure enough it was a young Crackle that entered the frame. Crackle was dressed like the Crocodile Hunter, and Neal raised a brow in amusement. Crackle looked to be around 17 or so.

"G'day mates!" Crackle said with an over-exaggerated accent. "This is GrahamTheLadyHunter69 and today I will be showing you the proper way to approach a Kangaroo!"

"Oh my god!" Neal exclaimed in pure delight. "No way!"

He watched as Crackle imitated the Crocodile Hunter's speech and mannerisms as he started to sneak across a field towards a large kangaroo.

"Now we gotta be very quiet while approaching roos because they can be very temperamental. Just observe how I stealthily approach!"

Crackle crawled across the field on his belly silently and once he was right beside the Kangaroo, he pointed at it and yelled out as loudly as he could.

"Wooooooo-weeeee, get a load of **this** beaut! Crikey!"

The kangaroo's head snapped around to look at him, and then without hesitation it charged for him. Neal watched as Crackle was bowled over and then as the boy screamed, the screen went black simply showing the words 'Graham: 0 Australia: 4'.

Neal began laughing, and he clicked on another video.

This video started with the same type of introduction, and then Crackle was crawling through the woods chasing after snakes and then demonstrating how to properly hold them. As he held one up by the tail, it turned and sunk its fangs into his face and the video once again went black. 'Graham: 0 Australia: 13'.

Neal couldn't help it and laughed hysterically, unable to believe the treasure trove he had uncovered. Dash glanced over at him, and made a sour face, but his curiosity got the better of him, and he approached.

"What are you watching?" he demanded. "That doesn't look look like electrical videos."

Neal reached out and seized Dash by the wrist and pulled him down beside him. "Come see! Come See!" Neal gasped out between laughs. "Oh my god, you **have** to see this!"

Dash gave him an annoyed look, but still edged over so he could see the screen as Neal pulled out the headphones, turning up the volume. He then clicked on another video. As Crackle walked into frame, Dash's eyes widened.

"G'day mates! This is GrahamTheLadyHunter69! I'm sorry for not uploading for a while but I had to get a porcupine quill removed from my scrotum."

"Is that..." Dash asked hesitantly.

"Sure is!" Neal exclaimed happily. "It **sure** is! Little baby Crackle from 2014."

"After that unfortunate situation with the porcupine, I thought maybe I would keep things a little safer for today's video." Crackle said. "Now we have a very special video for today, because we will be learning about the most beautiful creature in Australia. These gorgeous creatures can be found all throughout Australia and are at their finest and most colourful along the coasts. Follow me as I cautiously enter their territory."

The camera panned to several girls laying on the beach in bikinis.

"I present the Australian Lady!" Crackle announced in a loud voice, causing a lot of heads to turn in his direction.

One of the girls wearing a bikini looked over the tops of her sunglasses and scowled at him. "Are you recording us?!" she demanded.

"Crikey, they're beautiful!" Crackle commented. "Observe how these ladies flock to the beach and darken the pigment in their skin in the hopes to attract a mate! They clamber for the best resting spot and then display themselves to be admired by all!"

"Ashley, he's recording us!" one of the girls said angrily.

"Watch as I cautiously approach to get a better look at these gorgeous Australian Ladies."

"He's kind of a douchebag." Dash commented, unable to stop a snort of laughter.

They watched as Crackle very slowly began crawling across the beach towards the three girls. They stared at him angrily, and the moment he came within ten feet, one flung a handful of sand directly into his face. Crackle let out a shriek and clutched at his face, falling to the ground and rolling in agony as he tried desperately to wipe the sand out of his eyes. The screen went black with Crackle's screams still in the background. 'Graham: 0 Australia: 26'

Neal was laughing so hard he could barely breathe, and Dash held a hand over his mouth trying and failing to hold back his laughter.

"Play another one." Paper Star ordered from behind them and they both nearly had a heart attack. They glanced over their shoulders and saw Paper Star was leaning over behind them, and neither had any idea how long she had been there.

"Uh sure." Neal said, turning back to the screen.

He clicked on another one.

Thirty-five minutes later when Crackle returned to the motel, he was met with the sight of his entire team gathered around Neal in a circle, and they were all laughing as hard as they could. Setting the bags of takeout aside, he gave them a curious look, frowning at Neal. It was really obvious that Neal wasn't doing what he was supposed to be doing, but he was hesitant to get mad. It was honestly nice seeing his team getting along for once, and he wondered if things were finally starting to improve.

"What are you doing?" Crackle asked, making sure to keep his tone friendly.

They obviously hadn't heard him come in because everyone turned to look at him in surprise. They stared at him for a moment in complete silence, and then to Crackle's shock they all burst out laughing.

Crackle frowned. "What?" he demanded in confusion.

This only made them laugh even harder.

"What?" he demanded again.

No one could answer him they were laughing so hard, and so he approached the bed to see what they were looking at. He saw Neal had a video open on the tablet, but before he could see it, Neal exited the window.

"Just a really funny series of videos, love." Neal said in-between snickers. "You could say they're really '**electrifying** '. Their humour really has a ' **Crackle**' in it, if you know what I mean."

Crackle narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "And what were these videos about?"

This caused another series of laughs and Crackle felt like they were somehow making fun of him.

Finally, it was Neal who answered. He put on a thick Australian accent and smirked at him as he replied. "It was about a very silly 17 year old Australian **graham**-ophone that kept making an arse of itself."

Dash elbowed him sharply.

"Ow." Neal complained, rubbing his side.

Crackle let out a deep sigh, deciding it wasn't worth it. "I picked up Chinese food. They're all the same combos, and so just grab one."

The laughter began to die down, but Crackle kept catching his team sneaking grins at him, and although a bit annoyed, there was nothing he could do about it. Taking a seat beside Neal so he could eat, he knew he would make a point to check the tablet’s search history later.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**Next update will be within a week**

**Don't forget to leave your comments!**

**All credit for these gorgeous pics goes to Violetfic! Thank you so much for offering to illustrate this chapter! You are seriously awesome, Violetfic! :D Credit for the OC Dr. Vess goes to Violetfic as well. I love that crazy doctor. lol**

**Chapter 7 has been updated to include a very awesome illustration from Cinnalando of Neal Saving Dash's life when the roof collapsed. ** **Everyone should go see it! It's seriously wicked.**

**To anyone who wants to join a fan chat-group for Carmen Sandiego, here's a link : [Discord Fan Chat](https://discord.gg/WVetYZF)**


	11. Team Red vs Team Crackle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> After ten long chapters, the two teams finally meet! (cracks knuckles) Let's do this!
> 
> Yet another super long chapter! Geez, when I finally write a normal length chapter, it's going to seem so short! lol
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 11**

**Team Red vs. Team Crackle**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**-**

**San Diego, California**

**Team Red Base**

**June 30th 2019**

Chase stared down at the phone number in his hand, still unsure of Julia’s true intentions. Did she really want to learn the truth or was it all an elaborate trap? She was part of A.C.M.E, one of their enemies, and he knew it was stupid to trust her. Chase knew Julia was an honest person, and he had personally seen how she cared about justice, but he couldn’t help but worry she was being somehow manipulated. 

Chase glanced at the clock and saw it was nearly eleven. It was probably too late to call her now anyway. He played with the piece of paper in his hand for a moment, and then reached for his com. Placing the tiny device into his ear, he pressed the button.

“Player? Are you there?”

There was only a few moments of pause before Player answered. “Devineaux?” he questioned in surprise. “What can I do for you?”

“I need to make a phone call and I’m worried about it being traced.” he said, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. “Is there anything you can do?”

“A phone call?” Player repeated in surprise. “Who are you calling?”

“Julia Argent.”

Player went silent for a moment. “Does Carmen know about this?” he asked.

Chase let out a sigh. “No.”

“Julia Argent is part of A.C.M.E, and this is a dangerous thing to do.” Player told him. “I’ll have to tell Carmen about this.”

“I know.” Chase responded. “That’s fine. I need to find out if Julia can be trusted, and I need to speak with her.”

“Okay, just a second.” Player told him. “I’m just going to check with Carmen first. Hang tight.”

As Chase waited, he stared down at Julia’s very neat handwriting, feeling like he was setting himself up to be disappointed. Everything in Chase’s life was one giant disappointment, and he knew he couldn’t expect much. 

He’d felt like he and Julia had grown to be pretty good friends during their partnership, even if he was rather rude and abrupt with her most of the time. She was always patient with him however, and he’d never once seen her lose her temper. He knew she had been the brains of the team, and he had been the heart. He had never really understood her affinity for boring facts and small details, but he still respected her intelligence.

Chase’s wife had been intelligent too and he’d never really understood her either. He had no idea what she’d ever seen in him, but he had loved her with his entire heart and soul. She had been an amazing and beautiful woman who he’d been proud to call his partner both at home and at work. Together they had fought the corruption within Europe, and they quickly became known as the prized powerhouse to send after the worst and most difficult cases.

Chase clenched his fists as he thought of his wife, and his gaze went down to his hand where he once wore his wedding ring. Yu Yan… Her name meant ‘beautiful smile’ in Chinese and it was a fitting name for her. She had a smile that could light up any room, and he had always woke to see that smile first thing every morning. After she was gone, waking up in the morning was the worst part of his day. He would open his eyes and know there was no smile waiting for him.

He saw signs of her in every room in the house, as if she’d be back at any moment, and it stung. She was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It wasn’t long before Chase began packing away anything that reminded him of her. He got rid of pretty much everything in his house.

He ran a finger over his bare ring finger, an aching emptiness rising within him. He had thrown the ring as hard and as far as he could into the Clain River in Poitiers, just wanting to free himself of her presence. He had regretted it the second he threw it, and he had tried to find it, but with the swift currents, he’d had no luck.

Chase had fallen into a very ugly depression after the loss of Yu Yan, and everyone at Interpol knew to avoid all mention of her when he was near. After taking the allotted time for bereavement, he had returned to work, but was never the same. Although Chase had thrown himself right back into work with everything he had, he had changed. He was impulsive and reckless and Interpol worried for him. They stopped assigning him the dangerous cases for a while, but they missed having such a powerful team they could send after the problem cases.

Chase knew **exactly** what they were doing when Interpol assigned Julia Argent to be his partner the moment he laid eyes on her. Interpol chose an incredibly young, and intelligent French-Chinese woman to be his partner and he knew it **wasn’t** coincidence. He wasn’t a complete idiot, and it was both insulting and infuriating. Julia was young enough to be his daughter, and Chase was disgusted that Interpol even thought about it. Interpol was **trying** to replace Yu Yan with a new love interest, and they were **trying** to make him forget about her. It didn’t work.

Chase had zero interest in Julia or any other woman for that matter. Yu Yan took his heart with her when she died, and he didn’t think he’d ever have it in him to love like that again.

None of this was Julia Argent’s fault however, and Chase **tried** not to take out his anger on her, but it was difficult. He had been extremely abrupt and impatient with her at first and he was surprised she had put up with it. She had been patient with him, and tolerated his outbursts without a word, and after a time, Chase began to warm up to her. 

They began talking while on missions, and it was through these chats that Chase realized with amusement that Interpol hadn’t taken something into consideration when they chose Julia. Julia was not attracted to men. He never told Julia what Interpol had done, but he knew she was intelligent and probably figured it out the second she saw the picture of his wife. Yu Yan, his French-Chinese wife with short black hair and freckles. The similarities were enough that even now Chase got a twinge of pain every time he looked at Julia.

Chase stared down at the floor and let out a deep sigh, never wanting a cigarette more in his life. Reaching into his pocket, he popped a couple mints into his mouth, and began sucking on them, his craving abating a bit.

His last conversation with his wife before she died had been an argument about his smoking. She **hated** that he smoked, but he enjoyed it immensely and had no desire to quit. She had argued with him and made some very good points about why he should quit, but he had dismissed her. She had let out a sigh of exasperation, rolled her eyes and then told him he was lucky he was cute. He had laughed, kissed her and then left to go to the gym. That was the last time he saw her alive.

Chase had quit for her, and he would never smoke again as long as he lived. He popped another mint into his mouth, and then looked up as someone knocked on his bedroom door.

“Come in.” he called out.

Carmen poked her head into the room, offered him a smile and then approached, the girl already dressed for bed. “So, Player told me you want to call Jules?” she asked.

Chase gave her a nod. “She’s in San Diego.” he told her. “I met her at the grocery store.”

Carmen’s eyes widened, and she wondered why he was only **now** mentioning this. “Does A.C.M.E know where we are?” she demanded.

“Julia says she’s here alone.” Chase responded.

Carmen frowned. “Do you believe her?”

“I’m uncertain.” he admitted.

“What do you want to talk to her about?” Carmen asked with a frown. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“She told me she just wants to know the truth. She’s never lied to me before, and she’s a good person, but it’s A.C.M.E I don’t trust.”

“Jules **does** seem to put a little too much trust in authority.” Carmen commented, crossing her arms. “Do you think she’ll understand?”

Chase considered it, and honestly wasn’t sure. “I hope so. I don’t like her working with A.C.M.E. They’ve proven before that they’re willing to toss their own people to the wolves, and I’m worried she’s going to get hurt.”

Carmen gave him a nod. “Call her, but be careful not to tell her too much about where we are. Hint that we’re only here for a single mission and could leave at any time.”

Chase nodded. “You can listen in if you want.”

“No, I trust you.” Carmen told him, clapping him on the back. “If you think Jules is willing to listen, set up a meeting with her in three day’s time on the 4th of July. We’ll meet her somewhere public where it’ll be easy to slip away if there’s trouble. We’ll call her on the day of the 4th to tell her the location.”

Chase nodded. “You don’t want me to explain over the phone?”

“No, this is the sort of thing that should be explained in person.” Carmen told him. “Talk to her, see if she seems genuine and then you and I can arrange to speak with her face to face.”

Chase scratched his chin thoughtfully and then gave her a nod. 

“Player will make sure your call can’t be traced.” Carmen assured him. “Come tell me what happened after you call her.”

Chase gave her another nod. “I’ll call her now.”

Carmen gave him another clap on the back and then headed for the door. “I’ll be awake for a while and so don’t worry about knocking on my door.”

Once Chase was alone, he picked up his phone and began dialing. As the call connected and began ringing through, Chase began fidgeting, hoping this was going to go well.

“Hello?” came Julia’s voice.

“Hello, Ms. Argent.”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**-**

**San Diego, California**

**Green Tree Motel**

**July 1st 2019**

Crackle stared up at the ceiling, and couldn’t help but feel agitated. Dash and Neal had disobeyed him and possibly jeopardized their element of surprise, but yet he felt an odd sense of regret for punishing them so severely. He didn’t understand why he felt this way, and it was frustrating. They deserved to be punished, but every time he looked at them, he experienced a twinge of guilt.

Crackle knew there must be something wrong with him. These emotions were not allowed, but no matter how hard he tried to quash them, they couldn’t be silenced. The sounds of Dash and Neal’s screams as he hurt them still echoed in his ears, and Crackle didn’t understand it. He had been trained to fight, to hurt, to kill, but yet something as simple as a beating was eating at him in a way that left him unable to sleep.

Crackle glanced beside him at Neal and saw the other man was shivering in his sleep from the ice-packs. Crackle reached over and began removing the ice-packs knowing a few hours without them wouldn’t hurt anything. His gaze fell on the black bruises that covered Neal’s back and he frowned, hoping the other man would be ready in time for the heist. He didn’t like the fact Neal seemed like he’d been planning on ignoring the bruises until Crackle had discovered them.

Neal insisted he was used to bruises, but it still worried Crackle. If Neal bruised as easily as he insisted, a beating could seriously injure him. Crackle knew he wouldn’t be able to punish him the way he’d been taught to by Bellum’s various lessons. If you couldn’t beat someone into submission, what could you do? Crackle honestly had no idea.

Crackle let out an irritated sigh, knowing he was probably not going to be able to fall asleep. He glanced around and his gaze fell on the tablet sitting on the bedside table. Deciding to check what Neal had been up to earlier, he reached over the other man and picked up the tablet and headphones. Settling himself comfortably, he plugged in the headphones and powered on the tablet.

Clicking on YouTube, it brought up the last video Neal was on and Crackle frowned at the title. The title on it simply said 'Dingo'. Why was Neal looking at videos of Australian wildlife? Furrowing his brow, he clicked play. A boy stepped into frame of the video wearing khaki shorts with a matching khaki top, and Crackle stared with wide eyes. The boy looked just like him except several years younger.

"G'day mates!" the boy said with an over-exaggerated accent. "This is GrahamTheLadyHunter69 and today I will be showing you the proper way to approach a wild Dingo!"

Crackle watched in confused silence as the boy explained all about dingos, and then demonstrated how to safely encroach on the animal's territory. The video ended with the boy running away as fast as he could while cursing up a storm as a pack of dingos charged after him snarling at his heels. The screen went black and the words 'Graham:0 Australia: 17' appeared on the screen.

Crackle was terribly confused. That didn't seem like very good advice at all. Why was this video published? What was the purpose of it? He stared at the name Graham at the bottom of the screen, and felt very odd about it. That name... Why was it so familiar? 

Graham…

Crackle suddenly had a memory of himself being scolded by a woman who looked painfully familiar. She had brown hair pulled back with a ribbon, and her eyes were gentle but stern as she glared at him.

_ “Graham Elliot Benjamin Dawson!” the woman scolded, hands on hips. “I told you to stop making those foolish videos! Look at your face! You’re _ ** _bleeding_ ** _ !” _

_ “Aw, mum.” he complained, wincing as she began disinfecting the bite on his face. _

_ “What bit you _ ** _this_ ** _ time?” she demanded. “Do we need to get you another rabies shot?” _

_ He felt a little petulant as he crossed his arms. “...it was a turtle.” _

_ She let out an exasperated sigh. “Why were you putting your face close enough to a turtle that it could bite you?” _

_ “...for science?” _

_ She let out another sigh. “Oh, Graham.” _

Crackle winced as he struggled to remember more, but the memories refused to come through the fog in his mind. Graham… Was that what his name used to be? Before Bellum had saved him? Before she had helped him get better?

He turned his attention back to the tablet, and clicked on another video.

That boy really did look like him and Crackle frowned and continued staring at the screen. He glanced at the date the videos were posted and saw they were all created over a two year period during 2013-2014. Knowing he was around twenty-two or twenty-three, he realized his own age would match up with this boy's… Was this him? As he watched a snake bite the boy directly in the face, Crackle seriously hoped not.

Confused and feeling a bit upset over everything, Crackle set the tablet aside and sat up. Wanting to get a little bit of air, he quietly got to his feet and slipped on his stealth suit. He gave his team a quick glance but everyone was sound asleep, and so he silently headed for the door.

The moment he was outside, he took a deep breath and glanced up at the sky. It was a clear night and he could see stars and he took another breath, trying to get his emotions under control. Not having any real destination in mind, he began walking, just wanting to clear his head. The night was warm and rather pleasant, and the streets were quiet as he walked along. The air of San Diego wasn’t pleasant like the air on New V.I.L.E Island, and it tasted of engine oil and heat.

Crackle found himself relaxing the farther he walked, the open air feeling right to him in a way he couldn’t explain. Crackle wished he could remember a bit more of his past, but the more he fought against the fog, the more it seemed to press in on his mind.

“Hey!”

The sudden voice startled him and he looked up to see three men approaching him from a nearby alley. Unconcerned, Crackle stopped walking, and waited as they stalked towards him.

“Wallet **now**.” one of the men ordered, switchblade glinting under the streetlight.

Crackle simply stared at him, looking the man up and down, not impressed with what he saw. The three men were covered in yellowing bruises as if they’d recently been in a fight, and one of the men was walking with a noticeable limp. Crackle stared at them for a moment, and then without a word continued walking past them.

This seemed to surprise the leader of the men, and he hesitated and then became enraged.

“I said give me your wallet!” he snarled, stepping in front of Crackle to stop him.

Crackle heaved a great sigh, and then turned to stare at the man, his expression annoyed. The man clearly wasn’t expecting a reaction like this and became a little uncertain. He was used to people being afraid of him, and he usually got the wallets without a problem. Very rarely did he have to fight for it, and it looked like it was going to get his hands dirty this time.

“Look, crackhead, I don’t know what you’re on, but empty your pockets. I want your cash and whatever pills you have. Hand it over or I’m going to gut you.”

“Just walk away.” Crackle advised them. “I’m not in the mood for this.”

“Did you not hear me?” the man snarled. “Give me your stuff **now**!”

“I will be forced to defend myself if you touch me.” Crackle warned him. “Walk away now.”

The man exchanged a look with his two buddies, and knew he would have to make an example out of Crackle. He would lose face if he ignored such disrespect in his own territory.

“You asked for it.” the man growled. “I’m gonna mess up that pretty face of yours! Come on guys. ”

The three men seized Crackle by the arms and they yanked him into the dark alley out of sight of the street. There were screams, the sound of a scuffle, and then sounds of shattering glass. Two minutes later, Crackle casually left the alley, covered in blood from head to toe, and continued on his way without so much as a glance back.

He didn’t meet anyone else as he walked along the streets, and eventually he found himself in the parking lot of a 24/7 gas station. Deciding to buy himself a bottle of water, he entered the store, the ding as he entered alerting the cashier. The woman at the counter stared at the odd young man covered in blood and then went back to her magazine with a roll of her eyes.

“I only have $20 in the till.” she called over in a bored voice.

Crackle stared at her in silence for a few moments, and then headed for the back of the store towards the soda coolers. He was the only customer in the store, and it was clear the cashier did not care what he was doing. He stood in front of the coolers and inspected his choices silently, confused about all the different types of water to choose from. What was the difference between spring water and artesian well water? Was the more expensive water better quality?

Scratching his chin as he considered his options, something colourful nearby caught his eye. Glancing over, he saw a row of slushie dispensers of every colour along the back wall. He stared at the spinning liquid within, and he suddenly felt like he had seen this before. There was something strangely familiar about those slushies...

Crackle had a sudden memory come to mind of taking a huge sip of a red slushie and then sticking out his red tongue at his friends, laughing as he did it. Crackle stood there as he struggled to keep hold of this memory, remembering how he had been joking around with several friends as they loaded up on candy and then headed to the till to pay.

Frowning a bit uncertainly, Crackle reached out and grabbed an empty cup and approached the red slushie dispenser. Filling it to the brim, he snapped the cover into place and unsheathed a straw, stabbing it down into the thick red drink.

The moment Crackle took a sip, his mind was filled with memories of red slushies and piles of candy. He had always loved cherry best, and used to buy them at the shop all the time. His parents never liked him having that much sugar and he used to sneak to the store to buy them. He took another sip, trying to remember something else, but his mind was frustratingly blank.

“You gotta pay for that, you know.” the cashier called over, still not looking up from her magazine.

Crackle glanced over at her, and his frown deepened, feeling like he was on the verge of fighting his way through the fog. He could almost feel the memories within his reach, and he desperately looked around for something else to help jog them out of the fog. 

He wandered the store aimlessly, and he found himself at a wall of sweets, remembering how candy had always accompanied his slushie purchases. He then stood silently staring, hoping to see something that looked familiar to him. Taste seemed to help him remember, and if he could find something he’d had before, perhaps it would help him find a few more memories.

Nothing looked familiar to him at all, and so he grabbed one of every single type of candy, using a nearby basket to hold it as the pile got bigger and bigger.

“You gotta pay for that stuff too.” the cashier informed him, still not looking up.

Crackle ignored her, and once he had some of everything, he made his way over to the till.

The cashier let out an irritated sigh as if she hadn’t actually expected him to pay, and set her magazine aside so she could serve him. She eyed the massive pile of candy, but didn’t comment as she began scanning the items one by one. Crackle patiently watched, taking another sip of his slushie as he did so.

“$237.42.” She told him, giving him a skeptical look.

Without a word, he reached into his wallet and handed her cash. She frowned at the bills and then reached for her counterfeit bill detector pen. After checking each bill and finding them genuine, she shrugged and then processed the sale. Packing the candy into a massive bag, she handed it over, and Crackle left the store without a word.

As he walked back in the direction of the motel, Crackle felt even more confused about things than when he had left. As he passed by the alley the men had yanked him into, he could hear pained moaning coming from just out of sight. Ignoring it, he continued walking, knowing those men were no threat to him, and therefore weren’t worth his time.

When Crackle was finally back at the motel, he quietly opened the door and peered in, seeing everyone was still sound asleep. Silently entering the room, he made his way over to his bed and picked up the tablet he’d left on.

He was about to sit down to continue watching the videos, when he had second thoughts. He wanted to remain outside for a while longer, and so he once again quietly snuck out of the room. Once outside, he approached the motel pool, and settled himself down onto one of the rickety lawn-chairs. Putting on the headphones, he started the next video of his younger self, and reached for a candybar.

Two hours later, Neal woke and saw Crackle was gone. Glancing towards the bathroom, he saw the door was open and no one was in there. Rubbing at his eyes, he slowly sat up, immediately noticing the ice-packs were gone. He was barely sore, and knew it wouldn’t be long before he was back in top form. 

Getting to his feet, Neal approached the front window and pulled aside the curtains, and saw Crackle was sitting by himself next to the pool. His nosiness getting the better of him, he opened the door and then crossed the parking lot towards the pool, not caring that he was still in his boxers or that he was barefoot.

When he reached the pool, he saw Crackle was surrounded by hundreds of candy wrappers, most things only having a single bite taken out of them. A massive Big Gulp Slushie rested on Crackle’s knee, and the Aussie was staring at the pool, his mind clearly miles away. His clothes were covered in splatters of blood, and Neal suspected none of it was Crackle’s own.

Neal took in the bizarre sight for a moment and then took a seat in the chair next to him. Crackle glanced over at him but said nothing, simply turning his gaze back to the water.

“Breakfast of champions?” Neal joked, waving a hand at the mess. “Is this what you do while we’re sleeping? Binge on candy?”

When Crackle didn’t respond, Neal reached over and plucked the Slushie off his knee. Stealing a sip of the mostly melted drink, he gave a nod of approval.

“Cherry, good choice.” he commented.

Crackle still said nothing. Neal reached down and began digging through the piles of sweets until he came across some black licorice. Claiming it, he leaned back in his chair and popped a piece into his mouth.

“You okay, wombat?” he asked after a moment of silence.

“Have we met before, Neal?” Crackle asked, clenching the armrests of the chair tightly.

Neal raised a brow.

“Before this mission, I mean, did you know me?”

Neal was still giving him an odd look and so Crackle let out a sigh. 

“Before our team was formed, did you know who I was? Had we met?”

Neal gave him a shrug. “Possibly.” he replied. “Honestly all the new recruits seem to blend together for me. I could have seen you a dozen times and I wouldn’t remember. Why do you ask?”

Crackle didn’t answer.

Neal took another sip of the drink, and gave him a look of concern. “You’re **not** okay right now, are you?”

“Do you have any food from Australia?” Crackle asked, giving him an oddly intense stare.

This was not the response Neal was expecting. “You don’t have enough candy?” he teased. “What’s going on?”

“If you have any food from Australia, please go get it.”

Neal cocked his head, incredibly confused. “I dunno what I have left, but I’ll go check…”

As Neal headed back for the room, he shot Crackle a worried look over his shoulder. Was Crackle having some sort of breakdown, or was something else going on? Deciding to just keep a close eye on him, Neal entered the room to look through his bag. A few moments later he was once again crossing the parking lot and carrying a package of Tim Tams and bag of Pineapple Lumps.

“These are the only Australian snacks I have.” Neal told him, taking a seat beside him.

“Thank you.” Crackle said, taking both packages.

He opened the Tim Tams first and pulled one of the cookies out, staring down at it, once again getting that odd familiar feeling. He took a bite and the flavour was instantly one that he knew. He didn’t get any distinct memories from it, but he knew this was a snack he used to eat frequently. He then turned his attention to the bag of chocolates. He ripped open the bag and pulled out one of the pineapple creams, looking it over for a moment before popping it into his mouth. The memory was instant.

Crackle was very young and he was sitting in a fishing boat with his father. He loved fishing and was having a great time as his father told him stories while they both ate pineapple chocolates and drank lemonade. Crackle could clearly see his father’s kind and smiling face, and he knew he had been happy during that time.

He then felt the fog come crashing in again, and Crackle shook his head as a dull ache settled just behind his eyes.

Neal was watching him silently, and when Crackle glanced over at him, he gave him a frown.

“What did V.I.L.E do to you?” he asked.

Crackle narrowed his eyes. “Go back to bed, Neal.” he ordered.

“This was more than a mind-wipe, wasn’t it? They did something to you.”

“Go back to bed.” Crackle ordered, his tone taking on an edge.

“Did it never occur to you that maybe we could help?” Neal demanded. “We’re teammates, wombat, we’re all on the same side here.”

“Nothing is the matter with me.” Crackle snapped. “I have never been better.”

“Yes, because all of **this** is completely normal.” Neal responded, waving a hand at the candy wrappers. “Have you been out here all night?”

“I want to be alone.” Crackle informed him. “Go back to bed or I am going to take this as another show of disobedience.”

Neal let out a huff. “You can’t just keep hitting us every time we disagree with you.” he said boldly. 

Crackle glanced at him, and then let out an irritated sigh. “If you won’t go to bed, then you can get to work planting the information online for Team Red to find. In two days on the 3rd of July, we’re going to be pretending to rob the local sawmill of their deeds, charity contracts and scholarships. According to the information you’re going to plant, V.I.L.E is going to be using these to expand into the California area. This should get their attention.”

Neal gave him a nod, knowing it was pointless to argue any further about the odd behaviour.

“I’ll make it look like a conversation between two operatives on the Dark Web. I’ll encrypt the conversation and make it difficult to get to and that should make it seem more believable.”

Crackle gave him a nod. “Let me know when you’ve finished.”

Neal gave him a nod. “It won’t take me long.”

Crackle gave him a nod. “I’ll be in after I clean up this mess. Don’t wake the others.”

Neal gave him another nod. “I’ll get started.”

As Neal walked away, Crackle got up to begin cleaning up the mess he’d made of the pool area. He decided that once he was finished cleaning, he was going to ask Neal about those videos. He had watched them all, and they had left him with a sad and aching feeling he didn’t understand. 

Taking a deep breath, he stuffed the candy back into the bag and then headed for room, trying his best to get his emotions under control.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**San Diego, California**

**Team Red Base**

**July 3rd**

**-**

“Hey, Mime Bomb!”

Mime Bomb jerked awake as his shoulder was given a hard shake. Sitting up and blinking tiredly, he looked up and saw Zack crouching over him, grinning widely.

"Guess what today is?" the boy said a bit too loudly for his tastes.

Mime Bomb wiped tiredly at his eyes, and gave him a shrug, glancing over at the clock on the wall. Seeing that it was only a little after five in the morning, Mime Bomb gave Zack an unamused look and then rolled over, trying to burrow his way back under the blankets. 

Zack immediately gave him another hard shake and Mime Bomb reacted by swatting at him in annoyance. Zack's grin became even wider when he realized Mime Bomb had forgotten about something very important.

“Come on, time to get up! Don’t you remember what today is?”

Mime Bomb didn’t react other than edging a bit further away from him.

"Today is the day your cast comes off!"

Mime Bomb was instantly wide awake and he hurriedly sat up. Cast day! He glared down at the cast, glad he was finally going to be rid of it. Six weeks without his left arm had been horrible, and he was already itching to cut the thing off. 

Zack then noticed what Mime Bomb was wearing and his eyes widened.

“Are you wearing my favourite baseball jersey as a sleep shirt?!” Zack suddenly asked in alarm. “The one I don’t let anyone touch?!”

Mime Bomb glanced down at the jersey and gave him a shrug. He had run out of clean shirts the day before and despite it being his turn to do laundry, he’d been putting the chore off. He’d grabbed a jersey out of Zack’s closet last night, not really paying attention to which one it was.

Zack let out a deep sigh and decided to let it go. Rolling his eyes, he reached out and took Mime Bomb by the arm, and gave him an encouraging tug.

“Come on.” Zack urged him. “Shadowsan is going to saw it off for you! He’s waiting for you in the kitchen.”

Mime Bomb grinned at him and scrambled out of bed, and headed for the door without hesitation. Being a mime without a left arm was torture, and now he’d finally be back to his old self again! When they entered the kitchen, he saw Shadowsan was seated at the kitchen table, calmly sipping a cup of tea. Mime Bomb approached him and held out his arm expectantly.

Shadowsan raised a single eyebrow. “Let me finish my tea, and then we will remove your cast.” he told him.

Mime Bomb huffed, and Shadowsan ignored him as he went back to enjoying his morning tea. Sighing, Mime Bomb crossed the kitchen and opened the cupboard door and saw Chase had restocked the coffee. Grabbing one of the bags, he carried it over to the coffee machine and began making himself a pot.

As it began to perk, he once again approached Shadowsan, standing there and watching him intently as he drank his tea. He had a feeling Shadowsan was purposely drinking as slowly as he could, and after five minutes, Mime Bomb debated on just cutting the cast off himself. There was a strange sort of handsaw resting on the kitchen table and he hesitantly reached out towards it. Shadowsan moved it out of his reach without a word and Mime Bomb let out another sigh.

“I see you wore your facepaint to bed again.” he stated.

Mime Bomb frowned at him.

“Your doctor told you that you need to start going longer periods of time without the makeup.” he scolded. “She told you to start sleeping at night without it. It’s unhealthy for your skin and it makes a mess of the sheets. Tonight, you’re not wearing it, and I’m going to be checking.”

Mime Bomb grimaced, already uncomfortable with the idea.

Only a few moments later, Shadowsan set down his empty teacup and then turned to face Mime Bomb.

“Are you ready to have your cast removed?” he asked, amusement lurking in his gaze as Mime Bomb continued frowning at him.

Mime Bomb gave him an emphatic nod and once again held out his arm towards the other man. Shadowsan took his arm and then picked up the small saw.

“We don’t have a cast saw and so you need to remain **extremely** still so you don’t get cut, understood?”

Mime Bomb nodded.

Shadowsan tightly gripped the cast and then turned the handsaw on the lowest setting. As he very, **very** carefully began cutting through the cast, Mime Bomb held his breath, hoping he wouldn’t end up with a saw blade in his arm. Shadowsan didn’t cut all the way through, instead stopping just short of the other side. When he had made a cut straight down the cast, he set the saw aside and picked up a pair of scissors. A few snips later and the cast was off.

Mime Bomb stared down at his freed arm, gave it a shake and then clenched his fingers into a fist. His arm felt perfectly fine, and he beamed happily at Zack and Shadowsan who were watching him in amusement. As he approached the sink to wash his arm with lots of soap and hot water, Zack picked up the cast to look at it.

“Man, now you’ll have an easier time during my lessons.” Zack said excitedly. “Sometimes I don’t know what you’re trying to sign.”

Every night Mime Bomb worked for an hour or so with Zack to teach him a bit of sign language. Although Zack was a bit clumsy with his hands, he was also incredibly enthusiastic about learning.The other boy wanted to finally be able to have a real conversation with Mime Bomb and he worked hard to learn as much as he could.

As Mime Bomb dried off his hands on a cup towel, Zack took a seat at the table. “So, what’s the first thing you want to do now that you have both arms?”

Mime Bomb seemed thoughtful for a moment, and then approached the pantry. Zack watched as he carried a bag of flour to the counter as well as various other ingredients.

“You want to cook something?” Zack asked in surprise.

Mime Bomb nodded as he got to work. An hour later he had made enough pancakes to feel the whole team and he sat beside Zack as the boy reached for his sixth pancake.

“Mn, s’gd.” Zack commented with a full mouth.

Shadowsan shot him a disapproving look and so Zack swallowed before saying saying anything else. “I didn’t know V.I.L.E taught their students to cook!” he exclaimed.

Mime Bomb shook his head and then made a sign he knew Zack would understand.

“Mother?”

Mime Bomb nodded.

“Oh! It’s your mother’s recipe?”

Again Mime Bomb nodded.

“Nice.” Zack commented, shoveling more food into his mouth. “Ivy and I don’t know how to cook. It always ends in fire.”

Mime Bomb placed a single pancake on his own plate and reached for the syrup. Just as he was cutting into it, Chase burst into the room, eyes immediately going to the coffeepot and his open bag of coffee.

“I KNEW IT!” he bellowed, turning accusatory eyes on Mime Bomb. “YOU’VE BEEN STEALING MY COFFEE!”

Mime Bomb innocently took a sip from his coffee mug, pushing the plate of pancakes towards the other man. 

Chase narrowed his eyes. “I cannot be bribed with **pancakes**.” he said in an offended tone. “I’m insulted, you thieving clown.”

He approached the coffeepot, poured himself a large mug of coffee and then took a seat at the table with the others. Without a word, he grabbed two of the pancakes, carefully not looking at anyone. As time went on, the rest of Team Red began trickling into the kitchen, the smell of pancakes luring them out of bed.

As everyone helped themselves to the food, Player’s voice suddenly came across the speakers.

“Uh, guys, sorry to interrupt your breakfast but there’s a problem.”

“What is it?” Carmen asked, instantly alert.

“I found out what Dash Haber and Neal the Eel are after.”

Carmen frowned. “What did you find out?” she asked, knowing it wasn’t going to be good.

“I intercepted a conversation between Neal and another operative through the dark web. It looks like they’re planning on robbing the San Diego Lumbermill this afternoon when it closes early in preparation for July the 4th.”

“A **lumbermill** ?” Tigress repeated. “What could those two idiots possibly want from a **lumbermill**?”

“It looks like the lumbermill has a lot of recently acquired contracts that haven’t yet been processed, a large amount of land deeds, and a substantial scholarship account. They’re planning on stealing the paperwork and securing V.I.L.E with land and contracts within California. There’s plans for a very big operation to open up right here in San Diego.”

“Can they **do** that?” Carmen asked in surprise. “Just steal deeds and contracts for V.I.L.E to use?”

“According to Neal, V.I.L.E has a whole team of lawyers that are going to fake transfer of ownership on everything they steal and if it ever went to court, V.I.L.E has the funds to fight it whereas the lumbermill does **not**. They’ll get away with stealing millions from charity.”

“We won’t let that happen.” Carmen vowed. “What time are they making the hit?”

“The lumbermill closes at 3pm, and so Neal and Dash will probably sneak in just before that.”

Carmen exchanged a look with her team. “We’ll stop them.” she announced. “Neal the Eel and Dash Haber have no idea what’s coming for them!”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

“What’s taking them so long?” Dash complained, looking through the lense in his new hat. “We’ve been waiting for two hours!”

“Patience.” Crackle scolded over his com. “They’ll be here. Does anyone see anything suspicious yet?”

Crackle received all negative replies, and he lifted the binoculars back to his eyes to keep a lookout.

“There are still a few workers wandering around.” Neal stated, watching as a young red-headed man with a hardhat passed by his hiding spot.

“Want me to get rid of them?” Paper Star asked from her position in the rafters.

“Not just yet.” Crackle replied. “We don’t want to give ourselves away too soon. Be patient.”

Double Trouble were too large to easily hide and so they were dressed as labourers and were currently standing next to the mulcher, tossing in logs. They were actually having a great time watching as the blades of the mulcher tore through the wood as easily as a knife through butter. They remained back to as they ‘worked’ and Crackle doubted Carmen would recognize them unless she saw their faces.

“Carmen Sandiego is approaching from the North Entrance.” Dash suddenly informed them. “No sign of the rest of her team.”

“Okay, Dash, Neal, the both of you are up. You know the plan.”

“On it.” Neal confirmed, slipping out of his hiding spot.

“On my way.” Dash confirmed.

Neal and Dash met at the East entrance of the lumbermill and then exchanged a nod with one another. Neal threw an arm around Dash’s shoulders as they walked along, and the reaction was instant.

“Get away from me, you disgusting pit-stain!” Dash snarled, violently shoving Neal away from him. “I swear if you touch me again, I will cut your greasy head right off your shoulders!”

“Oh, and get your delicate little hands dirty?” Neal sneered loudly back, purposely wiping a line of slime across Dash’s coat. “Wouldn’t want you to chance breaking a nail.”

They were making their way through the lumbermill as they argued, heading towards the main office.

“You are **disgusting**!” Dash yelled, making a big show of pulling out a tissue to wipe at the slime. “I am going to report you when we return!”

“Oh, yes, run and tattle.” Neal angrily replied, giving him a dirty look. “Heaven forbid you ever deal with anything yourself. You’re not even a real operative, you’re just a **courier**!”

Dash gasped and took off his hat. “Take that back!” he snarled.

“What are you gonna do, Rapidash, attack me? Like you’d ever have the **nerve**!”

Dash pulled himself up to his full height, and glared at Neal as they started up the stairs of the catwalk.

“You don’t think I **will**, Blake the Snake? Or whatever your stupid name is.”

“It’s **NEAL**. How many times do I have to remind you of my name? There’s certainly not much going on in that pretty head of yours, is there?”

Dash then began storming away ahead of him. “You’re ridiculous! I can’t believe they saddled me with someone like **you**. You’re like something that crawled out of a sewer drain!”

Neal noticed the red-headed worker from before was just ahead of them and the boy turned to stare at them, a bewildered expression on his face. The mulcher was just below them now, and Neal could spot movement beside it and knew Carmen Sandiego was following them.

The worker turned fully as they approached, and Neal couldn’t blame him for staring, considering they were making a rather large scene right now. The boy leaned on the railing to watch them pass, and Neal saw the exact moment the railing failed and began to buckle. A brief look of surprise crossed the boy’s face and then he was falling backwards, straight for the mouth of the mulcher. Neal took a quick step forward and grabbed the front of the kid’s shirt and there was a brief second as they stared at one another with wide eyes, and then Neal yanked him back to safety.

“Oops, watch yourself there, Ginger.” Neal said, shooting him a crooked grin. “That’s a rather nasty way to go. Your body would be sent home in a bottle.”

The boy was sitting on the catwalk looking rather shell-shocked, and Neal stepped past him, hurrying to catch up with Dash who hadn’t even noticed.

“Now, we just need to break into the safe and then get the papers to V.I.L.E.” Dash said loudly as they entered the office. “Try not to screw it all up, grease-ball.”

“Are you sure you can handle touching paper?”Neal demanded. “You might get a papercut.”

“At least I’ll be able to touch the paperwork without leaving slime all over it.”

They then entered the building and closed the door after them. Carmen immediately jumped up onto the catwalk beside Zack.

“Zack, are you okay!” she whispered in concern. “What happened? Did they hurt you?”

Zack’s eyes were as wide as saucers and he silently shook his head, his gaze going to the giant spinning blades in the mulcher.

“The railing broke!” he whispered. “It broke when I leaned on it! I was almost **mulched**!”

Carmen gave him a horrified look, her gaze going to the broken railing.

”Neal the Eel grabbed my shirt and yanked me back before I fell. A villain just saved my life!”

Carmen herself felt terrified, realizing how close she’d come to losing part of her family. She threw her arms around him in a hug, and then glanced towards the building, knowing she didn’t have long.

“Get to safety, Zack.” she ordered. “I’ll be fine from here. All I have to do is get the paperwork away from them before they have the chance to escape.”

“You sure, Carm?” he asked uncertainly.

“Don’t worry, The others are waiting nearby to help if things get out of hand.”

“What about the civilians?” Zack asked, pointing to the two huge men standing next to the mulcher.

Carmen touched her com. “Okay, El Topo and Tigress, can you start getting civilians out of here?”

“Si.” El Topo answered.

“Ugh, I thought I was going to actually get to fight.” Tigress complained.

Carmen waved for Zack to go and he gave her a nod and then ran across the catwalk, planning on returning to the getaway vehicle.

Carmen jumped off the catwalk to the ground below and then waited for the villains to leave the office. She didn’t have to wait long and the door slammed open above her.

“I still think you should let me carry the paperwork.” Neal complained. “You’re probably going drop the envelope or something.”

“Says the greasiest man who ever existed?” Dash retorted.

“You know what, Dash? You need a hug.”

Neal threw his arms around Dash who let out an indignant screech, flailing uselessly to get away. When Neal released him, Dash had a smear of slime going straight down the front of his whole outfit.

“That’s **it**!” Dash bellowed out. “I’m going to kill you!”

Carmen from below rolled her eyes at the two men. What a disaster that partnership was. She heard a bit of yelling and then a scuffle and realized they really **were** fighting each other.

“I’m **ready** to take you on, anytime!” Neal yelled, giving Dash a slow nod.

“I couldn’t be anymore **ready**!” Dash replied, returning the nod.

Without a word, both men suddenly jumped over the railings, each landing on either side of Carmen, trapping her between them. Carmen stared at them with wide eyes, and Neal threw himself to the ground, kicking her feet out from under her as Dash dove at her with the blade of his hat. Carmen rolled as Dash came for her and she winced as she felt the saw blade graze her arm. Kicking Dash hard in the stomach, Dash felt backwards but was steadied by Neal who caught him by the arm as he dove for Carmen, knowing he had to keep her off her feet if they wanted a chance to win.

Carmen was trapped and knew the villains had played her for a complete fool. Not having any choice, she pressed her com as she kicked out at Dash who made a lunge for her.

“I need back-up. The fight was an act!”

To Carmen’s complete surprise, Dash also reached a hand to his ear. “Now.” he said.

Carmen wasn’t quite sure what Dash had done until she saw a paper throwing star whiz past her, aimed at Shadowsan who was coming to help her. The star almost struck Shadowsan in the kneecap, but he saw it coming and caught it with deft fingers. Carmen stared with wide eyes. It was a partnership of **three**!

Suddenly Tigress crashed into the side of the catwalk and fell to the ground with a pained cry. Looking over, Carmen caught sight of a huge man still with his fist in the air.

A partnership of **four** ! V.I.L.E hardly **ever** partnered that many operatives together! Shadowsan knocked Dash off Carmen, and then kicked out at Neal who just managed to jump back to avoid it. Carmen then saw a second man identical to the first step into her line of sight to help his brother as he threw El Topo to the ground hard. Carmen now recognized the two men as Double Trouble.

Five! There were** five** operatives! Carmen scrambled to her feet and gave Neal a solid kick to the stomach as she finally managed to escape the cage that was the catwalk. Shadowsan caught two more stars thrown at them, and knew someone had to take her out before she got lucky.

Le Chèvre spotted Paper Star hiding behind a post as she took shot after shot at Carmen, and he knew he was the only one in position to take her down. He had been ordered to remain as look-out only, but it looked like he had no choice but to fight.

He knew he was no match for her in hand to hand combat, and realized he would have to rely as his parkour skills to outmaneuver her. Taking a puff on his inhaler, he took a deep breath and then ran straight for her, balancing along a narrow metal pipe as he came up behind her. Paper Star saw him coming out of the corner of her eye and she threw a star at him over her shoulder, aiming for his kneecap.

Le Chèvre jumped over the star and landed back on the pipe, as graceful as his namesake, not even slowing his pace. Paper Star wasn’t expecting him to be quite that agile, and she didn’t have time to throw a second star before he landed a kick straight to her face. Letting out a cry of surprise, she was knocked from the beam, falling down into a pile of sawdust far below. Le Chèvre shot her an arrogant look, and then turned and ran out of range as she threw several stars at him angrily. Now that Paper Star no longer had the advantage of height, she instead knew she had to fight hand-to-hand.

Her gaze zeroed in on Mime Bomb who was helping Tigress to her feet, and she smiled wickedly, knowing the mime was the weakest link in Team Red. In an instant she had folded two paper knives, and then she began running for the mime while his back was to her. She definitely wasn’t expecting him to suddenly side-step as she lunged at him, and she fell flat on her face in an embarrassing heap.

Realizing he had seen her approaching the whole time, she rolled to her feet and stabbed out at him furiously. Mime Bomb was fast, and he carefully side-stepped her once again.

“I’m going to slice you up, clown.” she whispered to him softly.

Mime Bomb cocked his head at her and gave her his best unnerving smile, readying himself to fight. Paper Star tightened her grip on the knives and then dove for him, wanting nothing more than to feel the mime’s blood on her hands.

Mime Bomb had been in many fights since joining V.I.L.E and he relied on his speed and his willingness to fight dirty to survive. He dodged around her attacks, and Paper Star was then painfully reminded why he’d graduated from the academy. Mime Bomb caught her by the hair and jerked his hand back sharply and PaperStar let out a cry of pain as she was yanked harshly to the ground. Mime Bomb shook the broken strands of hair out of his hand, and leapt back as a knife came at his face. 

Paper Star was back to her feet in an instant and as she charged at him, a fist suddenly came out of nowhere and plowed into the side of her face like a freight train. Once again she hit the ground, and she clutched at her head in agony, looking up to see who had hit her. Chase stood over her, fists still held at the ready, and eyes narrowed in determination.

Paper Star recognized Chase from his picture, and she lashed out at him with her knives, catching him across the leg as he jumped back to avoid her. Chase stumbled back, and Paper Star took that opportunity to go for the kill.

As she went to stab at Chase’s stomach, Mime Bomb’s hands snaked out and he snatched the knives right out of her hands, tossing them aside without a care. As she turned to stare at him in surprise, Chase hit her again, and the moment she hit the ground, he was on top of her, holding her down. As she fought and struggled to get away, Chase cuffed her hands behind her back, and removed her paper pouch. Mime Bomb then gave Chase a nod of thanks.

Glancing over, Mime Bomb saw Double Trouble were both taking on Shadowsan who was expertly avoiding the twins’ attacks while retaliating when he could. Tigress and El Topo both were helping him, and it looked like they were starting to wear the twins down. They seemed to be doing fine on their own, and so Mime Bomb glanced over at Carmen.

Carmen kicked Neal hard in the stomach as he grabbed her wrist, and when he let go of her Dash was instantly there with an attack. Carmen couldn’t believe how well they were coordinating their attacks, and she realized that everyone had misjudged them.

“So what was the deal with Walmart?” she asked, jumping back from Dash’s hat.

Neal shot her a grin. “Wouldn’t **you** like to know, love.” he responded, swiping a leg at her feet.

“I’m kind of curious, yes.” she admitted, leaping over the leg. “It was pretty entertaining though.”

“You have a copy of it?” Neal asked, jumping back as Dash went in for an attack.

“Sure do.” she answered, ducking below the hat thrown at her. “Tigress was watching it on repeat.”

“Can you email it to me?”

“Don’t ask the enemy to email you, Neal!” Dash snapped at him. “We’re supposed to kill her!”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Fancy, we don’t seem to be doing that great. I think the scarlet wonder is going to live another day.”

Dash frowned at him and then glanced over at the others and quickly saw he was right. Paper Star was pinned to the ground, Double Trouble were fighting against three at once and were clearly getting overpowered. 

Neal caught Carmen by the arm and just as he was yanking her forward, he was shoved hard from behind. Stumbling down to his knees, Neal looked back and saw Mime Bomb standing there, the boy frowning at him angrily.

“Oh, hello, Mime Bomb.” Neal said amiably.

Mime Bomb raised his fists, and Neal raised a brow skeptically. There was an odd look in the mime’s eyes as he stared at Neal, the villain having no idea that Mime Bomb had witnessed him save Zack’s life. He didn’t really have time to take action however, because a moment later Dash was thrown into him and they both crashed into the ground.

Dash elbowed him hard, and shot him an annoyed look. “Pay attention to the real fight!” he scolded. “Ignore the mime!”

Neal gave him a nod and they both rolled to their feet and charged at Carmen, as the girl ducked and dodged away from them.

Dash was kicked solidly in the stomach, and he winced, having a feeling that was going to bruise.

Just as Dash was wondering where Crackle was, there was a massive explosion as the building nearby burst into flames.

Everyone paused their fight to stare, and a moment later the nearby mulcher began to spark and sizzle dangerously, and Neal and Dash jumped away from the metal catwalk, knowing exactly what Crackle was doing. Shadowsan, who was standing on the far end on the catwalk suddenly seized up and fell, and El Topo reached for him on impulse. Realizing what was happening, Le Chèvre let out a yell at El Topo and reached out to stop him. It was too late however and the second El Topo touched Shadowsan, he and Le Chèvre seized up and dropped to the ground as the electricity coursed through them.

Carmen took immediate action and she charged straight for Dash, taking the man by surprise. She snatched his hat from his head and then ran for the mulcher, knowing she had to cut off the power. She threw the hat as hard as she could at the massive power cable and the saw blade of the hat easily sliced right through it. The power cut off abruptly, and Carmen glanced back to her teammates, relieved when she saw a bit of movement. The power must not have been high enough to kill, only enough to stun and she stared at the mulcher, wondering who had rewired it to do such a thing.

She heard the sound of boots stepping on top of the mulcher and looked up. She felt her breath catch in her throat as she made direct eye contact with Crackle who stared down at her, expression stony and determined.

“**Gray**?!” 

Crackle stared down at Carmen with narrowed eyes, the sight of her in person giving him a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

“Gray, what are you doing here?” she asked him in concern. “Did you get your memories back?”

How did Carmen Sandiego know about his missing memories? Had she hacked into Dr. Bellum’s servers? Why did her voice seem somehow familiar to him? He hopped down from the mulcher, landing a few feet in front of Carmen.

“Gray?” she questioned, quickly realizing he wasn’t acting like himself. “What happened? Are you alright?”

Without a word, Crackle pulled out his Crackle Rod and powered it on. Carmen’s eyes widened, and she took a step back, prepared to defend herself if necessary.

“What did they do to you?” she asked him gently.

Crackle began turning the power up on the crackle rod, and then he charged for her, swinging at her face without a word. Carmen jumped backwards and narrowly avoided the metal prongs on the end of the weapon.

“Gray!” she called to him, feeling a bit desperate. “Just talk to me! Just say something!”

Crackle said nothing at all, simply advancing on her, brandishing his weapon. Neal and Dash approached and they boxed Carmen in as Crackle took a swing at her. Dash was suddenly attacked from behind and he let out a yelp as Tigress’ claws lightly grazed his neck. Neal glanced between Dash and Crackle, and with a nod from Crackle he ran to help Dash, kicking Tigress as hard as he could in the shoulder.

The girl let out a cry as her back hit the metal of the catwalk, and Neal glanced down at Dash and then gave Tigress a second kick before she could recover.

“Heya, pussywillow.” he said, standing over her smugly. “Long time, no see.”

Tigress’ reaction was instant and she swung out at him with her claws, and he leapt to the side to avoid them. As Dash went to help, Mime Bomb jumped on his back from behind, wrapping his arms around Dash’s neck.

“Hey!” Dash protested angrily as he flailed to get the mime off. “Get off of me!”

Mime Bomb simply tightened his hold, and Dash realized he couldn’t get him off.

Crackle watched for a second but was unable to help, otherwise he would lose his advantage on Carmen, and so he turned away, trusting his teammates to take care of themselves. 

Crackle charged for her and swung the crackle rod out violently and Carmen had no choice but to go on the defensive. Carmen could see the sheer amount of power emanating from the weapon and she realized it was set to lethal. Gray was trying to **kill** her…

“Gray, what did they do to you?” she asked him in concern. “Did they wipe your memories again? Do you remember the coffee shop, or the New Zealand adventure? Do you remember **me**?”

Crackle narrowed his eyes angrily at her obvious attempt to confuse him, and he swung out at her again. Carmen flipped over him, and then landed on his back, pinning his arms to his sides.

“Gray, stop this. Let’s just talk okay? Stop with the fighting for just a minute and let’s talk.”

Crackle couldn’t shock her while she was touching him, and so he threw himself backwards into the side of the mulcher as hard as he could. Carmen let out a grunt of pain, but continued holding on.

“Just a five minute truce so we can talk.” Carmen said. “I know you don’t want to hurt me, you’re not a killer!”

Crackle slammed himself into the mulcher, and this time, and Carmen felt her hold loosen. Crackle felt it as well and he reached over his shoulder, grabbed a hold of her and tossed her to the ground hard. Carmen hit the ground and rolled, the crackle rod stabbing into the ground where she had just been.

The sounds of sirens filled the air, and everyone looked up in alarm, realizing this was bad. Crackle scowled, and charged after Carmen with a whole new determination, knowing their time was now limited. Carmen continued dodging him, not wanting to hurt him.

“This isn’t you!” she called to him. “We’re not enemies! We were once best friends, Gray, and I don’t want to hurt you!”

Crackle gave no indication he heard her, and continued swinging and stabbing at her, getting more furious by the second. If he could just hit her **once**, this would all be over. His team seemed to be handling themselves fine and so he focused only on Carmen, trying to outmaneuver her. The sirens got closer and closer, but he ignored them, knowing the only thing that mattered was completing his mission and killing Carmen Sandiego.

Carmen had no idea what was wrong with Crackle but there was no recognition in his eyes, only a cold hardness she’d never seen before. It had been months since she’d seen him last, and she wondered what had happened to him during that time. When she last saw him, he was his usual happy and flirty self, and even though he didn’t remember her, she was happy for him. She thought he would finally have a chance at a normal and honest life, but it looked like V.I.L.E sunk their claws into him once again. This violent and cold man that stood before her was a stranger, and she feared what they had done to him.

“Please, Gray.” Carmen said, dodging a swing. “Why won’t you say anything? Won’t you just talk to me? I only want to help you!”

“The cops are here.” Zack spoke into her com. “We need to get out of here.”

Carmen stared into Crackle’s eyes imploringly, but he simply stabbed at her again, not caring what she had to say. Carmen knew she would have to find a way to help him, but she wouldn’t be able to do that now. Right now she had to make sure her team got to safety. Glancing over at Dash and Neal she didn’t see the paperwork they stole anywhere. Knowing they must have dropped it during the fight, she gave a quick glance around as she dodged Crackle’s attacks. It was nowhere in sight and Carmen realized that V.I.L.E was going to win this round.

Carmen reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small canister. “We’re leaving.” she spoke into her com. “Plan H.”

Her team all pulled out identical canisters, and they all tossed them to the ground, a thick wall of grey smoke filling the inside of the lumbermill. Crackle stabbed at Carmen as the smoke filled his vision and then he could no longer see or hear where she was. Furious, he had no choice but to wait as the smoke began to clear. Clenching the crackle rod tightly in his fist, he stood still as the smoke slowly began dissipating and after a few moments, he could make out the shapes of Neal and Dash standing nearby.

He saw Carmen standing at the far exit and she was watching him with a sad look in her eyes. They made direct eye contact for a long moment, and then she turned and disappeared out the door. Crackle scowled and turned off his crackle rod. Glancing at his team, everyone seemed fine other than a few bumps and scrapes.

“Come on.” he ordered. “Let’s get out of here.”

They nodded, and they took off running for the far exit, knowing the police were going to burst in at any moment. They made it outside and then began running across the lumberyard, heading for where they hid their van.

As the cops began swarming into the lumbermill, Team Crackle were already piling into their van, and a moment later they peeled out the back exit, the cops none the wiser.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**Next update will be within a week**

**Don't forget to leave your comments!**

**All credit for these gorgeous pics goes to Violetfic, Cinnalando, Coulrosaurus, and Jessalyn Everrose** **! Thank you so much for offering to illustrate this chapter! You guys are seriously awesome :D **

**Violetfic is responsible for all the Crackle pics and Cinnalando is responsible for the Zack and Mime Bomb pic, and Coulrosaurus is responsible for the Neal/Crackle pic, and Jessalyn Everrose is responsible for the Crackle/Carmen pic!**

**Chapter 7 has been updated to include a very awesome illustration from Cinnalando of Neal Saving Dash's life when the roof collapsed. ** **Everyone should go see it! It's seriously wicked.**


	12. Fireworks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Okay, everyone, here is a special double length chapter! It is nearly 21,000 words long! I cannot guarantee when chapter 13 will be out because I'm going to be quite busy over the next week with other projects. I'm going to aim to have it out before Christmas.
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 12**

**Fireworks**

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**Team Red**

**Team Red Base**

**July 3rd 2019**

**-**

The car ride back to base was done in silence, and Carmen’s expression was completely devastated. As soon as they entered the base, Carmen took a seat on the couch and then sat head in hands as she processed what had just happened. The others took a seat around her, and they exchanged a look, not sure what to say.

Zack was still looking noticeably pale, but none besides Mime Bomb and Ivy seemed to notice. They sat on either side of the boy, and he took each of their hands, squeezing so tightly, Ivy winced in pain. Mime Bomb had seen how close Zack had come to death, and the thought was enough to make him feel physically ill. Mime Bomb had no idea what he would’ve done if Zack had died at the lumbermill, but he knew it would have destroyed him. Mime Bomb loved Zack like a brother, and he couldn’t imagine a life without the loud and gentle boy. Mime Bomb squeezed the hand back, and Zack offered him a shaky smile. Ivy threw an arm around her little brother, not saying a word, just offering silent support.

El Topo, Le Chèvre and Tigress were seated on the couch with Carmen, and they knew how close Carmen had been to Crackle during their academy days. She had practically followed him around like a little shadow, and Crackle used to jokingly call her his little sister. Everyone had known about the crush she’d had on him, and knew how much they had cared for one another. He hadn’t taken her betrayal well, and had been bitter and angry for months afterwards. The next time he saw Carmen was their meeting on the train, and that was the last time Crackle had been himself. Now, the Crackle they met was a stranger and there was little resemblance to how he once was.

Carmen suddenly looked up fiercely. “We have to save him.” she announced.

El Topo gave her a sympathetic look. “Crackle is one of us.” he confirmed. “We will do everything we can to help him.”

“I’m assuming he has been mind-wiped...**again**?” Le Chèvre asked.

“I don’t know.” Carmen admitted. “He was somehow different. He never said a single word to me the whole time, and he just wasn’t himself.”

“I bet that’s what happens if someone’s memory gets wiped too many times.” Tigress suggested. “He’s probably just...brain-damaged?”

“SHEENA!” Ivy scolded, angrily. “Not cool!”

Tigress looked unapologetic as she shrugged. “I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking. How many times can someone’s brain be messed with before it causes damage?”

Carmen shook her head, refusing to believe it. She thought of the Crackle she knew, and pictured his cheeky grin, his easy laugh, his kind brown eyes, and the way he was always joking around. She had seen none of that in the Crackle she saw today, and it left her with a deep sense of loss. What was wrong with him? What had V.I.L.E done to him?

“We need to find him.” Carmen said. “We need to speak to him.”

Chase was confused about the whole thing and scratched at his chin thoughtfully. “That was the boy I arrested on the train a year ago?” he questioned.

Carmen gave him a nod. “His name is Gray, and he was my best friend at the academy.”

Shadowsan seemed troubled. “Dr. Bellum was working on several mind experiments, and it’s a possibility she used him as one of her test subjects.”

Everyone stared at him in horror.

“What kind of experiments?!” Carmen demanded.

“I don’t know all the details.” Shadowsan admitted. “She’s been studying several failed experiments from a lab in Russia, and she believed she had figured out the way to create the perfect V.I.L.E operative. Her first ten experiments killed her patients, but perhaps she finally figured out a way to make it work?”

“Dr. Bellum **liked** Gray!” Le Chèvre protested. “She used to favour him in class, and so why would she experiment on him like that? It doesn’t make sense!”

“Dr. Saira Bellum does not think in the same way as most people.” Shadowsan commented. “She would see this as a way to help her favourite student to better himself, and would think nothing of chancing his life by experimenting on him. In the case of Dr. Bellum, it’s better **not** to catch her attention.”

Carmen was horrified. “What can we do? How can we help him?”

Shadowsan shook his head. “I do not know.” he admitted. “Until we know what was done to him, there’s little we can do to help him.”

“You don’t even know for sure there was anything wrong with him.” Tigress pointed out. “Maybe he was refusing to speak to you because he was mad at you?”

“He was trying to kill me, Sheena. Not injure or capture, but **kill**. He had the Crackle Stick on full power while we were fighting.”

The other girl’s eyes widened. No matter how angry Crackle was at Carmen, she knew there was no way he would ever try to really hurt her. He’d always been soft on little Black Sheep, and if what Carmen said was true, then there was something seriously wrong with him.

“What can we do?” she asked, her tone softening.

“We just have to make him listen to us. Maybe if I can get him to speak to me, we can find out what was done to him.”

“A little bit hard to do when he’s trying to kill you.” Le Chèvre pointed out.

“Then we arrest him.” Chase answered with a shrug. “We capture this ‘Gray’ boy and then he’ll have no choice but to listen to us. Find a way to separate him from his team, and grab him.”

Carmen turned to Chase in surprise. That was actually an excellent idea. “If we can get Gray away from the others, we might be able to talk some sense into him.”

“How will we do that?” El topo asked in concern. “His team aren’t going to just allow him to be taken.”

“We’ll have to come up with a plan to isolate him.” Shadowsan said. “Distract the others, and then take Crackle before they know what we’ve done.”

“Yes, this could work.” Carmen stated, feeling a little sliver of hope. “I’m sure once he listens to us, we’ll be able to help him.”

Ivy glanced at Zack and could feel her brother shaking. She exchanged a look with Mime Bomb who was looking equally worried. Ivy tipped her chin in the direction of the bedrooms and Mime Bomb gave a nod, understanding her completely. Without a word, they both stood up and gently pulled Zack up with them. No one else seemed to notice them, and they ushered Zack out of the room and into his bedroom.

Once they were alone, they released Zack who sat down on his bed, his face still unnaturally pale.

“Zack, you’re not alright.” Ivy said, worriedly. “Is this about what happened at the lumbermill?”

“I’m fine.” Zack responded, his voice unnaturally high. “Perfectly fine. No big deal...I was almost turned into liquid human, but it’s all good. I’m fine. No big deal.”

Ivy gave him a gentle punch in the shoulder. “You’re **not** fine.” she repeated. “We almost lost our brother out there, and **we’re** not fine either!”

Mime Bomb sent Ivy a smile at being included, and he took a seat next to Zack, once again taking his hand. He couldn’t say the words he wanted to, and instead just gave the hand a reassuring squeeze. Zack glanced at his sister and then over at Mime Bomb, seeing the worry in their eyes. He then let out a deep sigh, and raised a hand to his face.

“I almost died.”

“We know, bro.” Ivy said gently.

“I almost **died** , and I have a **villain** to thank for saving my life. If he hadn’t grabbed me, I’d be a pile of mush right now. I can’t even blame anyone for it besides myself. I was stupid and almost died.”

Zack clutched at his hair and closed his eyes with a groan.

“It was an accident.” Ivy said softly, sitting down at his other side. “The railing broke, and you had no way to know that was going to happen.”

Mime Bomb reached out and pulled Zack’s hand away from his head, forcing the other boy to look at him. Zack stared at him in silence, and then to his surprise, Mime Bomb threw his arms around him in a hug. It took him by surprise since Mime Bomb rarely initiated first physical contact, and he smiled down at the mime.

“Thanks, buddy.” he said.

He was then further surprised when Ivy joined in the hug, squeezing her brother as hard as she could. Neither seemed like they were going to let him go anytime soon, and Zack laughed, just allowing the hug to happen.

“Please be careful from now on, Zack.” Ivy begged him. “I couldn’t bear to lose you. You’re all I have.”

Zack clenched his fists into the fabric of his jeans, and looked down at the floor.

“Ivy...I think I need some time off from missions.”

Ivy looked at him in surprise, knowing how much Zack loved taking part with the others. When she stared into his eyes, she could see the fear that lurked there, and she worried for him.

“We should talk about this.” she told him.

“I just need a bit of time to get over this, okay? The team won’t fall apart if I take a week or two to get over almost being made into strawberry jam.”

Ivy’s brow furrowed in concern, and she laid her head on his shoulder with a nod. “If you need some time, then take all the time you need. The others will understand.”

Zack nodded, relieved he wouldn’t have to jump right back into missions right away. 

“What will you do with yourself if we’re all leaving on missions?” she asked.

Zack was silent for a moment, and then looked up with a steady determination. “I’m going to Wales.” he announced.

Both Ivy and Mime Bomb stared at him in surprise.

“Wales?!” Ivy repeated. “What are you talking about?!”

Zack turned and looked over at Mime Bomb. “We’re going to Wales.” he announced. “We’re going to take a bit of time off and go find your sister.”

Mime Bomb stared at him in surprise and then glanced over at Ivy who seemed just as flabbergasted.

“Bro, you’re not going to Wales.”

Zack scowled at Ivy and pulled away from her. “I’m going to Wales.” he repeated. “I just need to focus on something else for a while. Mime Bomb and I can use this opportunity to find his sister and set things right.”

Ivy frowned at him, and crossed her arms. “No way am I letting you two go all the way to Wales without the rest of the team!”

Zack didn’t back down. “Do you think Mime Bomb wants a whole crowd of people nosing into his family business?”

Mime Bomb winced at the thought of the whole crew tagging along, and had to agree with Zack. He shook his head, and Ivy glared at him.

“Not helping.” she hissed at him.

Mime Bomb gave her a helpless shrug, and she let out an aggravated sigh.

“Anything could happen to you over there!”

“Like what?” Zack demanded. “I might get bitten by a sheep? It’s **Wales **Ivy, not V.I.L.E island.”

Ivy scowled. “Don’t be so stubborn! You’re not going to Wales and that’s final!”

Zack narrowed his eyes at her. “I’d like to see you stop me.”

Ivy blinked at him in surprise, Zack **never** stood up to her like this. “What if you DIE over there?” Ivy snarled at him in frustration. “What if something happens to you, and I’m not there to help you?”

Mime Bomb tugged on her sleeve and she glanced over at him. Mime Bomb pointed at himself and then made a motion like he was flexing a muscle.

“Oh, what are **you** going to do, Mime Bomb, **mime** at the enemies?”

He frowned at her and Ivy let out a deep sigh. “Sorry, that was mean, I’m just really worried. I know you would never let Zack get hurt.”

Zack wanted to point out that he’d be more likely to end up protecting Mime Bomb than the other way around, but didn’t want to embarrass the other boy.

“Ivy, I almost died today, and I want to take the time to get over it. Every time I close my eyes, I see the spinning blades of that mulcher. I know it’s pathetic, but it scared me. It scared me **bad.**”

Ivy’s expression softened, knowing Zack had to be **really** upset if he was admitting to being scared. “I think you should join Mime Bomb’s session with Dr. Brownswell tonight. Tell her what happened, but just leave out the details about VILE and why we were at the lumbermill.”

Zack frowned. “If the doctor says it’s fine for me to go to Wales, will you support the decision?”

“No.” Ivy admitted. “I’m your big sister and it’s my job to worry about you.”

“Mime Bomb has a big sister too, one that’s been looking for him for a long time. If you were in her place, wouldn’t you want someone to bring me home to you?”

Ivy stared at Mime Bomb, just now seeing the similarities between their families. They both had parents that died in a car accident, and both had an older sister and a younger brother left orphaned. They both had a less than ideal childhood, and they were also all gingers. Ivy knew Zack was right, and if their situations were reversed, she’d want Zack to be brought home to her. She let out a defeated sigh.

“I will speak to Carmen and see what she says. If she says yes, then take Mime Bomb to Wales to his sister.”

Zack grinned at her wildly, and to everyone’s complete shock, Mime Bomb yanked Ivy into a hug, planting a grateful kiss on her cheek as he did so. He then seemed to realize what he did, and gave her a mortified look, and Ivy stared at him in surprise and then began laughing.

“You’re welcome.” she told him. “You’re such a goof, Mime Bomb.”

Zack laughed as well, but for a different reason. He stared at his sister and held a hand over his mouth as he attempted to stifle his giggles.

“What?” Ivy demanded, in amusement.

“Nothing.” Zack answered, laughing harder.

Ivy frowned good-naturedly. “What?” she repeated.

“It’s nothing, really.” Zack responded, his gaze on her cheek.

Mime Bomb bit his bottom lip as he struggled to hold back a laugh and Ivy rolled her eyes. Standing up, she glanced in the mirror and saw a very prominent lipstick mark left on her cheek.

“Mime Bomb!” Ivy said, dissolving into laughter.

She reached up and wiped the lipstick from her face, still laughing about it as she did so. The mood had been lightened, and Ivy smiled at them as she made her way towards the door. 

“I’ll speak with the others about Wales, and be back in a few minutes.” she promised.

As soon as she was gone, Mime Bomb turned to Zack and began signing. Zack frowned at him, trying to figure out what he was trying to say. Scratching at his head, he realized he only recognized the sign for ‘Zack’ and one that meant ‘thank you’. Zack smiled at him, clearly seeing the nervous excitement Mime Bomb was showing.

“You’re welcome, buddy.” Zack said with a laugh. “We’re finally going to meet Alys!”

Mime Bomb was honestly a bit terrified of the idea of returning to Wales after so many years, but nothing was going to stop him at this point.

  
  


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**Team Crackle**

**Green Tree Motel**

**July 3rd 2019**

**-**

Crackle had been gone for over an hour, and no one knew where he had disappeared to. They had expected Crackle to be furious over their failure, but surprisingly enough he had seemed fine. 

Paper Star was the one who was frothing angry and they pitied that Interpol agent once she got her hands on him. He had left her in cuffs when Team Red fled, and Dash had to pick them unlocked during the car ride back to the motel. Paper Star was now seated cross-legged on her bed and was humming quietly to herself. She looked calm on the exterior, but no one missed the fact her hands were playing with a paper knife.

Dash was laying on the bed beside her listening to his ipod while drawing something in a massive sketchbook, and seemingly unconcerned that he was so close to danger. Neal had claimed the massive bag of candy that Crackle had purchased and he’d been working on it for the last two days straight not caring that most things already had a bite taken out of them.

Double Trouble were having a quiet but friendly argument between themselves and Neal watched in fascination, wondering what it was that had them so excited. He watched them for twenty minutes or so and then his nosiness got the better of him.

Getting up, he approached the twins and hopped up onto Theodore’s back, knowing it bugged him when he did that. 

“Heya, guys, whatcha talking about?” he asked, peering over Theodore’s shoulder.

Theodore sighed in resignation, but didn’t get angry and simply allowed Neal to cling to him like a baby koala, used to him being a nuisance.

“We’re talking about tomorrow.” Theodore told him, glancing over his shoulder at the other man.

“Tomorrow?” Neal questioned. “What’s special about tomorrow?”

The Twins stared at him in shock and horror, and Neal was instantly confused. “What?”

“Tomorrow is the 4th of July!” Roosevelt said, aghast.

“Yeah, so?”

“It’s Independence Day, you moron.” Dash commented, not looking up from sketching. “Kind of a big deal here.”

“Oh!” Neal said in realization. “I forgot about that!”

Theodore nodded with a smile. “It’s been ten years since we’ve been here for the fourth of July!” he announced. “We were trying to figure out if there’s a way Crackle will let us celebrate it…”

Roosevelt nodded his agreement. “We don’t know how to ask though…”

Theodore’s eyes suddenly widened in realization. “Neal!” he exclaimed. 

“Yes, Teddy?” Neal answered in amusement.

“You’re good at talking, do you think **you** could ask him?”

“I really doubt he’s going to go for it, mate.” Neal told him. “We didn’t exactly do very well today.”

The twins both looked completely crestfallen and Neal immediately felt bad. “I’ll do what I can.” he promised. “But don’t get your hopes up too high…”

Dash set his ipod aside and scooted himself to the end of the bed where they were talking. “I’ll help.” he volunteered.

Neal gave him a skeptical look, and Dash frowned at him. “What?”

“That doesn’t seem very like you, Dash Haber!” Neal responded, grinning at him.

“I wouldn’t mind having tomorrow off either.” Dash admitted.

Neal gave him a smile and then turned to Paper Star. “You in too?” he asked.

Paper Star glared at him, but there wasn’t much venom in her gaze. “Whatever.”

“Okay, good!” Neal said. “Then we’re in agreement! We **all** want to celebrate the holiday tomorrow. When Crackle’s back, I’ll plead our case.”

“Just **try** not to start off by immediately annoying him.” Dash stated, crossing his arms.

Neal gave him a highly offended look. “Since when have **I** ever annoyed anyone?” he demanded. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“You’re literally hanging off Theodore like fungus right now.”

“Naw, Teddy doesn’t mind.” Neal protested. “We’re best friends.”

Theodore rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything. He honestly **was** getting used to Neal, and the other man’s antics didn’t annoy him quite as much as they used to. He wasn’t used to people actually wanting to be near him, and it was strange. The twins towered over absolutely everyone at seven foot four, and most people were afraid of them. Even when they were children, the other kids and teachers always thought the worst of them just because they **looked** intimidating. 

Theodore and Roosevelt were never the swiftest fellows, and they were bullied by adults their whole childhood. Their brother Delano was the one who defended them both. He was born with a genius intellect, and even as a child he didn’t hesitate to stand up to adults that picked on his brothers. Delano, who was skinny and short, was always the first one to shoot off his mouth to anyone who displeased him. More often than not, Theodore and Roosevelt would have to save him from bullies after he insulted everyone around him.

Delano was two years younger than the twins but soon found himself in the same grade as his older brothers after they kept failing the second grade.

Everyone had always joked that while the Theodore and Roosevelt got all the muscle, Delano got all the brains. He was the only reason they were able to pass school, and although he could have easily skipped several grades, he refused to leave his brothers behind. He worked with them every single day after school and he always had a way of explaining things that made the twins understand. Although Delano had a foul temper and was always grouchy with them, he genuinely cared for his brothers and did everything he could to help them.

Delano had a mean streak a mile wide, and he quickly realized that with his brains and his brothers’ brawn, they made an excellent team. They were in junior high when Delano first began stealing. He was clever enough to be able to break into lockers, and sneaky enough to not get caught. There were suspicions of course, and he was even accused a few times, but he was never caught with any stolen property and he was never seen.

The twins were awed at what he could do and soon they began wanting in on the action, seeing the constant flow of cash their brother had. Delano began planning bigger thefts and with his brains and his brothers brute strength, they began their life of crime. By the time they reached highschool they had already robbed dozens of houses and even some local corner stores. When they were in their final year of highschool, Delano decided to escalate things even further. The twins never quite understood any of his elaborate plans, but they followed their brother without question no matter what. He led them into this life of crime and they willingly became his henchmen. 

A month before graduation Delano announced his plan to them. They were going to rob the large jewelry store on the other side of town. He very **very** carefully explained to the Twins their roles in this plan, and everything had gone smoothly. Delano disabled the alarms and cameras and the twins ripped down the back door using brute force. They had then taken every piece of jewelry in the entire store and fled to their base at an abandoned building on the docks. Delano stayed up all night melting down the jewelry into solid blocks of gold and silver, and he disposed of any gems with serial numbers. There was no physical proof where the precious metal had come from, and he knew they would be safe.

The next day they were tracked down to their warehouse and Delano had no idea how they’d been found. He’d disabled all cameras within a 2 block radius of the store, and he knew they’d left no clues behind. They were taken to an unknown location, and then to a room for questioning, and as trained, the twins didn’t speak at all, simply going into dumb mode. Delano had denied all knowledge about the theft and insisted the precious metal was gathered over a period of several years of metal detecting and dismantling old electronics.

They had been questioned for 2 days straight, but Delano could not be swayed from his statement. It was then that Professor Maelstrom had introduced himself and made him an offer. Professor Maelstrom had been incredibly impressed with Delano’s plan and his ability to lie as easily as he breathed. Delano was offered a place at V.I.L.E academy, and he had refused at first until the offer was extended to his brothers as well.

Delano had then accepted without hesitation and the three brothers quickly became known as Triple Trouble within the academy. Delano made a name for himself as a criminal mastermind, and the other students began to respect him, despite his short size. Delano was only a little over five feet tall, but his presence seemed to make him seem a lot bigger than he was. The brothers did well at V.I.L.E academy and Delano helped the twins with their homework, and they were set to graduate within a month.

Tragedy then struck. The twins were pulled out of class one day, and were then informed by Shadowsan that there had been a terrible accident. He told them Delano had been hit by the ray of an experimental weapon and was in critical condition. They went to visit their brother in the medical wing, and he was in a terrible state. All the way from his stomach to his knees had been severely burned, and Dr. Vess wasn’t certain the boy would survive it. The twins had begged and pleaded with the doctor to save their brother, and the doctor promised to do everything he could.

Dr. Vess worked day and night to perform surgeries and skin grafts on Delano, and finally he managed to stabilize his condition. The twins had hugged the doctor in relief, and Dr. Vess had made a few mildly snarky comments, the doctor hating all physical contact. He had seemed proud of himself though.

It had seemed like Delano was getting better at first because he woke up a few days after the last surgery, and although he’d been in a lot of pain, he’d made light of the situation. He joked that it was probably a good thing he wasn’t planning on having kids, considering the extent of his injuries. Theodore and Roosevelt visited with him several times a day for two weeks, and then suddenly they went in one morning, and Delano was nowhere to be found. They were then informed their brother had died in his sleep the night before.

The twins were completely devastated, and the death was so out of the blue, that they’d refused to believe it at first. It had taken powerful sedatives to stop their rampage through the academy, and several students had ended up in the hospital wing because of it. Dr. Vess had kept them sedated for 3 days until they were calm enough to speak with him about what happened. They had then fallen into mourning, their brother’s loss cutting them deeply.

They had no idea what to do without Delano, as he had been their brains for their entire lives and now suddenly they were on their own. For the first time ever, they had to rely on their own thoughts and ideas, and it was terrifying.

The twins graduated just two weeks later, and had never felt more lost in their lives. They were extremely valued because of their massive size and strength, but it was no secret that they weren’t the swiftest pair of operatives. V.I.L.E made up for this by always assigning them an intelligent partner to work with. It had been over a decade since the death of their brother and they still felt his loss immensely every time they thought of him.

Theodore glanced at Neal over his shoulder, and then asked. “Do you think Crackle’s going to be really mad at us?”

Neal gave him a shrug. “Dunno, he was acting a bit odd when he left.”

“He was.” Dash agreed with a thoughtful frown. “He almost seemed pleased…”

“Maybe he’s pleased that he finally has an excuse to kill one of us off?” Paper Star guessed.

Everyone stared at her in horror.

“Crackle’s not **you**, love.” Neal informed her. “Most people don’t enjoy killing their teammates.”

Paper Star shrugged and then gave a long and lazy stretch. “It was just an idea.”

They heard the sound of the door being unlocked and a moment later, Crackle entered holding a bag.

“Heya, Graham the Lady Hunter.” Neal greeted him to test the waters.

Crackle raised a brow at him and set the bag aside. “Hello.” he responded.

“Ask him!” Theodore whispered a bit too loudly.

“Ask me what?” Crackle asked, removing his com from his pocket.

Neal slid down off Theodore’s back, and then approached the other man. “Well, wombat, we just had a tiny **little** request…”

“Okay, just give me a few minutes. I need to contact V.I.L.E about today’s mission.”

Neal winced. “Er...yeah.” he trailed off, having a feeling this wasn’t going to go over well.

He glanced over at the others who were all looking decidedly unhappy. Crackle pressed a few buttons on his com and then waited patiently for the call to be answered.

“Hello Crackle.” Dr. Bellum greeted as soon as the call connected.

“Hello, Dr. Bellum.” Crackle responded, giving her a smile.

“You look rather pleased with yourself.” she observed. “I’m assuming you have good news to report?”

“The first meeting with Carmen Sandiego went perfectly.”

The others in the room all stared at him with wide eyes. Was Crackle **lying** to Dr. Bellum?!

“Oh?” Dr. Bellum questioned.

“Yes, ma’am.” he answered, reaching over and grabbing the bag. Reaching inside, he pulled out a tiny camera and held it up for her to see. “We were able to successfully observe and record the whole interaction without Team Red’s knowledge. They had no idea the heist was all a ploy. We now have footage of their entire team in action and can use this video to study a way to combat them. Team Red outnumbers us, but now we can begin formulating a plan of attack.”

“Excellent.” Dr. Bellum responded. “Send me your full report as soon as possible, and check in as soon as you learn anything.”

Crackle gave her a nod as Neal leaned into view of the com.

“Hi, Dr. Bellum!” he greeted with a grin. “How’re your inventions going?”

“Oh, hello Neal.” Dr. Bellum greeted in surprise. “Everything is going fine on my end. I’ve been working on a new weapon that melts only the eyes when activated.”

“Ouch.” Neal commented. “Sounds nasty.”

Dr. Bellum smiled proudly. “Very nasty.” she confirmed. “All preliminary testing has been a success. The first prototypes will be created within a few weeks.”

“Sweet as.”

Crackle used a hand to push Neal back out of view of the com, and then addressed Dr. Bellum seriously. “You were right about Carmen Sandiego. She tried tricking me into having a conversation with her.”

Dr. Bellum frowned. “And what did you do?” she questioned.

“Exactly what I was trained to do.” Crackle responded. “I refused to interact with her at all, and ignored everything she said. I won’t allow her to trick me.”

Dr. Bellum seemed a bit relieved and she gave him a nod. “Good, good.” she said, staring at him thoughtfully. “Do not speak to her unless absolutely necessary. She will weave all sorts of lies in an attempt to make you betray us.”

“It won’t work.” Crackle vowed. “I am loyal to V.I.L.E until the very end.”

“Make me proud, Crackle.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Dr. Bellum ended the call and Crackle set his com aside as he carried the bag of cameras over to his bed.

“You **knew** we would fail?!” Dash asked in surprise.

“Of course we would fail.” Crackle responded, distractedly. “It was nine against six and we didn’t really know what to expect from them. This was just a mission to gain information.”

“You could have told us that!” Dash protested, feeling put-out. “We were getting demolished during that fight!”

“I couldn’t tell any of you because I needed to see Team Red fighting at their best. If all of you knew the mission was a fake, you wouldn’t have tried so hard to win. This would have tipped off Carmen Sandiego that we were up to something. I needed an untainted fight.”

“So, we’re going to train to take on individual members of Team Red?” Neal questioned with a frown.

“I’m going to study these videos and then decide from there.” Crackle responded, dumping the pile of cameras out onto the bed.

“When did you put those up?” Dash asked, knowing it would have taken a long time to place a dozen cameras.

“Yesterday.” Crackle answered. “I snuck in before the lumbermill opened.”

“Ask him!” Roosevelt hissed at Neal.

“Right.” Neal said, turning to Crackle. “So, I just want to confirm...you’re **pleased** with how we did today, right wombat?”

Crackle nodded. “You all did fine considering the circumstances.” he confirmed.

“So, if we did alright, there’s something we were hoping you could do for us…”

“And that is…?” Crackle prompted, getting a bit suspicious. 

“Tomorrow is a holiday here in The States, and we were hoping to get the day off?” Neal asked hopefully.

Crackle furrowed his brow. “We don’t have a mission planned for tomorrow, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, we want a completely free day, with no patrolling, no planning, and no restrictions.” Dash cut in. “We want to enjoy the holiday as civilians.”

“I want to see the fireworks in the park.” Theodore said.

“And I want to eat nachos from one of the foodtrucks.” Roosevelt commented. “And fries...and a corndog.”

“It would be fun to check out the park when the celebrations are in full swing.” Neal added. “I’ve never actually celebrated Independence Day before.”

“It might be interesting.” Paper Star agreed.

Crackle had no idea what to say to this and felt like this was probably against some sort of rule. “No.” he answered by reflex. “We need to stay focused.”

Five unhappy looks were instantly sent his way.

“We can’t just take a day off from our mission to goof off. V.I.L.E is trusting us to remain on task, and do everything we can to take down Team Red.”

“Call it a mental health day.” Neal said. “We’ve been through a lot lately and could use a day to recover. Wouldn’t V.I.L.E rather us be calm and ready, rather than stressed out and tired?”

Crackle frowned at him. “This isn’t going to work.” he informed him. “No holiday, and no day off.”

“What if we patrolled in the morning and then just had the evening off?” Dash suggested.

“**No**. I don’t think V.I.L.E would approve of this.”

Neal grabbed up Crackle’s com. “I could always give Dr. Bellum a quick call back to ask her?” he offered.

Crackle quickly snatched the com out of his hand. “**No**!” That was all he needed, was for his team to begin bothering the doctor with ridiculous requests. “The answer is no, and now stop pestering.”

Crackle was very aware of the glares aimed his way but chose to ignore them. Instead he began removing the memory cards out of the cameras. Without a word to anyone else, he then grabbed the tablet and took a seat on the bed so he could review the first video.

Neal let out a sigh, and approached the twins who were looking incredibly disappointed. “Sorry guys, I tried.”

“It’s not fair.” Roosevelt muttered quietly.

“You can’t make people work on the 4th of July.” Theodore grumbled.

Dash looked a bit disappointed as well, but instead of commenting, he simply became sulky. Paper Star said nothing as well, and her expression didn’t give any indication of what she was thinking.

“Well, we could always watch the fireworks on tv…” Neal said, knowing it sounded lame before he’d even uttered the words.

“We should just go anyway.” Roosevelt whispered.

“Think we could think of an excuse to sneak away?” Theodore whispered.

“Roose, Teddy!” Neal exclaimed with a grin. “I’m surprised at you. Yeah, you probably could, but he’s going to be mad about it.”

The twins exchanged a look and then nodded. “Worth it.” they both whispered.

“Look, would you stop plotting over there?” Crackle demanded, not looking up from the tablet. “I can hear you.”

The twins scowled at him and went silent. Neal was curious over the videos and approached Crackle, taking a seat beside him so he could see the screen. Crackle glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t protest, turning his attention back to the video playing.

“If you look closely, you can see the moment Le Chèvre climbs up to the rafters.” he informed him. “Team Red were actually onsite much longer than we thought.”

Neal watched as the camera caught sight of Le Chèvre stealthily climbing his way up on the far side of the building. “Did they know we were there?” he asked.

Crackle shook his head. “No, I don’t believe so.”

They watched as Le Chèvre watched whatever was happening below for a while and then he turned his attention to Paper Star. They saw him remove the asthma inhaler from his pocket and take a quick puff from it and Crackle paused the video.

“Le Chèvre is asthmatic! This was not in **any** of my reports!” he commented in glee. “This means his stamina is very limited!”

Neal gave a nod of agreement, knowing that must be frustrating for the athletic Le Chèvre to have to depend on such a thing.

“How is your stamina, Neal?” Crackle asked.

“Excellent.” Neal responded.

“If you were able to get that inhaler from him, all you’d have to do is outlast him.” Crackle stated, looking incredibly pleased. “This is good information. **Very** good information.”

Neal knew he could probably do it and gave him a nod. It would be rather horrible to watch someone die of an asthma attack in front of him though, and it wasn’t something he was going to look forward to.

Crackle watched the rest of the video and they saw Paper Star kicked solidly in the face and Neal winced.

“Ouch.”

The camera angle showed nothing else of interest, and so Crackle switched to the next memory card. This time the camera angle caught the pretend fight Neal and Dash had staged as they crossed the catwalk. They watched as the guardrail broke and as Neal grabbed Zack at the last second, and pulled him to safety. Crackle gave him a questioning look and Neal just gave him a shrug.

“He was just a stupid kid. No point in letting him splatter himself.”

Neal stopped talking very quickly however, when a moment later Carmen hopped up onto the catwalk to check on Zack. She hugged the boy, and Crackle’s whole body stiffened. Neal’s eyes widened in horror as he realized the boy was part of team Red, and he had just saved his life.

“Oh bugger... I didn’t know, Crackle!” he protested in alarm as the other man slowly turned to face him. “I **swear** I didn’t know!”

Crackle set the tablet aside and he had Neal by the throat in an instant. He shoved him facedown on the bed and then held him there, turning his gaze to the others in the room. “Hand me the Crackle Stick.” he ordered.

Crackle was a good six inches shorter than Neal, but he was stronger and he easily pinned the taller man underneath him.

“Wait, wait!” Neal cried, struggling uselessly. “It was an accident! I really didn’t know!”

“**Now**.” Crackle ordered, holding out his hand. “Pass it to me.”

Roosevelt very hesitantly handed over the Crackle Rod, not really knowing what Neal had done to deserve being punished. Crackle was completely enraged, and the second he had the crackle rod in his hand, he brought it down hard across Neal’s back, eliciting an immediate yell of pain. Crackle held Neal still and brought it down again and then again, and Neal’s yells quickly turned desperate as he was struck over and over. Crackle paused at the tenth blow, weapon still raised above his head as he stared down at Neal, the pained cries triggering something within him. Without a word, he turned on the weapon and gave Neal a powerful shock, and Neal screamed as the electricity coursed through him. He then fell silent as he lost consciousness. 

Crackle tried to digest what this odd feeling within him was, and knew he didn’t like it. Regret was a bitter emotion, and he closed his eyes as he fought against it. Crackle spent almost all his time in the company of his team, and he was starting to get very attached to them all. The feelings of desperate loneliness weren’t present any longer, and he knew it was because of their constant company.

Hearing those cries of pain from Neal made him feel something deeply unpleasant. He didn’t understand it, but it made him feel awful for being the cause of that pain. Grimacing, he slowly lowered the rod and then turned it off.

Crackle stared down at Neal as that unexplainable feeling only got worse, and for the first time, felt like he’d perhaps gone too far. He’d only done exactly what he’d been trained, but he’d forgotten for a second about how easily Neal bruised. He had let his anger take control, and realized he had probably hurt Neal a lot worse than intended. His training dictated that for such a serious offence Neal was to be struck no less than forty times, but Crackle didn’t want to. It was an accident, and it didn’t seem fair to be punished for it, but this was what he was taught. All serious mistakes were to be dealt with harshly and with no exception. 

Why was he feeling like this? What was wrong with him? His hand began shaking a bit and he dropped the crackle rod to the floor. He was going against Dr. Bellum’s orders, but he couldn’t hit Neal any more. Thirty more hits would be devastating to someone with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, and he wasn’t going to do it.

Crackle looked down at Neal and then reached down to unzip his slick suit. He yanked the suit down far enough so he could see his back, and then lifted Neal’s undershirt so he could take a look. Sure enough, he could see ten lines across his back from where he’d been struck, and they were quickly darkening. Pulling Neal’s undershirt off so he’d have full access to his back, Crackle reached for the jar of bruise balm. 

Hoping that if he applied the balm before the bruises could fully form they wouldn’t be as bad, he slathered a thick layer over the back. He gently worked the cream in and then approached the motel mini-fridge to get a few icepacks. Laying the icepacks on Neal’s back, he took a seat beside the other man and then sat head in hand, not looking at the others who were all staring at him.

No one dared say a single word, and Crackle didn’t move from his spot as he waited for Neal to regain consciousness. Dash exchanged a look with the twins who looked incredibly concerned, and then stared at Neal, knowing that beating was undeserved. Neal had no way of knowing that random kid was part of Carmen’s crew. Dash’s gaze shifted to Crackle who hadn’t said a single word since the beating. He felt like something had just changed, and he wasn’t certain yet if it was good or bad. Dash was going to keep a wary eye on things in case Crackle decided to take out his anger on the rest of them.

Neal regained consciousness after an hour, and when he realized Crackle was sitting right beside him, he flinched away in fear. Crackle didn’t move however, and Neal relaxed after a few tense minutes. Neal then glanced over his shoulder and saw the icepacks were once again on his back. How many times did Crackle hit him after he was knocked out? Almost too scared to even **think** about the damage, he removed one of the icepacks so he could see. 

Neal couldn’t see much of his back other than his shoulder, but he didn’t see any particularly black bruises within sight. Strange… Neal knew that with the force he was hit and with the amount of pain it caused, he should have had terrible bruising across his whole back. It was then that he smelled the balm. Had Crackle treated him that soon after he’d been beaten?

He glanced at Crackle and saw the way the man was sitting head in hand and not moving at all. Neal felt his anger and fear melting away to be replaced by concern.

“You okay, wombat?” Neal asked, glancing at the very still Aussie.

Crackle clenched his fists and Neal went quiet, certain he had pushed him too far.

“You can all have the day off tomorrow.” Crackle stated, his voice sounding utterly defeated.

Everyone turned to stare at him in shock.

“Er...say again?” Neal questioned him skeptically.

“Take the day.” Crackle repeated. “Do whatever you want.”

Without another word, Crackle flopped down on the bed and faced the wall, turning his back to the rest of the room.

Neal exchanged a look with everyone else and Dash gave a thoughtful hum. 

“Maybe you should be beaten more often.” he commented.

Neal normally would have responded to that with a nasty comeback, but he instead slowly sat up and looked down at Crackle worriedly. He placed a hand on Crackle’s shoulder, but the other man jerked away from him.

“Don’t.” Crackle snapped, his tone warning.

“Graham.”

Crackle slowly turned to look at Neal, the sound of his name seeming to burn in his ears.

“What’s going on?” Neal asked.

Crackle said nothing, simply looking away again. Neal gave him a nudge, and a tissue box suddenly struck the side of his head. He glanced over at Dash who was desperately motioning for him to cut it out. The twins were giving him pleading looks, and even Paper Star was glowering at him. It was obvious the others were worried he was going to make Crackle change his mind, and Neal rolled his eyes not really caring.

He gave Crackle another poke. “Come on, Graham, something’s bothering you. If you don’t tell me what it is, I can’t help.”

Crackle still said nothing. Hearing his old name was strange, but for some reason it was also a little bit comforting. Neal wasn’t so easily dissuaded and he leaned over him until he was in Crackle’s field of vision.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded again. “Are you sick?”

“Neal!” Dash hissed at him.

“Come on, Graham, what’s going on?” Neal persisted. “Just let us help you. Tell me what’s wrong, what are you thinking?”

Crackle let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know.” he admitted.

Neal wasn’t really expecting an answer, and wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. “You’re looking a little bit...down.” Neal responded. “Did something happen?”

Crackle turned his head slightly so he was making eye contact. “I think there’s something wrong with me…”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Team Red**

**Team Red Base**

**July 3rd 2019**

**11pm**

-

“This is ridiculous!” Tigress snarled, crossing her arms angrily.

“This is really hard for him, Sheena.” Carmen responded. “We just have to be patient.”

Tigress glowered at her. “He’s been in there for over **two** hours!”

“He’s **trying**, okay?” Zack defended. “He’s been working really hard to get better, and he just needs a bit of patience!”

“My patience ran out after the first hour.” Tigress responded dryly.

“Bro, I gotta pee.” Ivy complained. “Can you go check on him? My bladder is about to burst.”

“Use the basement bathroom.” Zack snapped.

“I can’t use that bathroom.” she hissed at him. “It’s beyond nasty and I think that toilet has been there longer than Shadowsan’s been alive.”

Shadowsan made a disapproving sound in the back of his throat.

“Oh, no offence, Shadowsan.” she quickly added. “Can’t you just go see if he’s even still alive in there, Zack?”

Zack frowned at everyone in the room. “Come on, guys. Show a little compassion here.”

“I want to go to bed and I can't do that without removing my makeup and brushing my teeth.” Tigress informed him. “I am tired, and I’m beginning to lose patience.”

“Mi amigo, two hours is a little long…” El Topo said looking sympathetic.

“He’s just being dramatic.” Le Chèvre commented, not looking impressed.

“Okay, okay!” Zack said with a scowl. “I’ll go check on him.”

Zack left the living room and walked up the hallway towards the bathroom. He then knocked on the door.

“Mime Bomb?” Zack questioned. “Are you okay in there?”

Of course there was no response, but Zack still paused before continuing. “Can you let me in for a minute?”

The lock clicked open, and Zack slipped into the bathroom, not quite sure what to expect. He found Mime Bomb standing in front of the bathroom mirror with a towel around his waist, and tubes of makeup in his hands. To his surprise, Mime Bomb didn’t have any makeup on at all and seemed to be struggling with something internally. Mime Bomb glanced over at him, his expression nervous and very uncertain.

It had been six weeks since Mime Bomb first arrived at the base, and Zack had only seen him out of makeup that first day. Mime Bomb had always obsessively reapplied his makeup anytime it got smeared or damaged. He’d forgotten the other boy had freckles, and he offered him a smile, hoping to ease a bit of Mime Bomb’s anxiety.

“Looking good, buddy. You ready to get to bed?”

Mime Bomb glanced down at the makeup in his hands, and he silently shook his head.

“You don’t want to put that on.” Zack warned him. “Shadowsan swore he’d wipe it off himself if you did.”

Mime Bomb grimaced, and Zack realized how much more expressive the other boy’s face was without layers of makeup covering it.

“Come on.” Zack urged. “It’s going to be okay. You’re safe here, and no one is going to stare at you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Mime Bomb shook his head.

“People need to get in here.” Zack told him. “Ivy’s about to leave a puddle on the floor. Come on, man, let’s go.”

Again Mime Bomb shook his head and Zack frowned at him.

“You’re not ready?”

Mime Bomb nodded, his gaze still on the makeup.

“You just need a few more minutes?”

Mime Bomb nodded.

“Everyone’s not going to like this.” Zack informed him.

Mime Bomb gave no reaction and so Zack let out a sigh. “I’ll be back to check on you in a few minutes.”

Zack let the bathroom and headed back for the living room, knowing this wasn’t going to go over well.

Tigress scowled over at him. “Well?” she demanded.

Zack rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Um...he’s not ready to come out yet…”

Tigress’ eyes flared in anger and she got up to her feet. “That’s **IT**.” she snarled, storming off in the direction of the bathroom.

Everyone quickly followed her in disbelief, wondering what the girl was about to do. Tigress didn’t even bother knocking, just storming into the bathroom without invitation. A second later, Mime Bomb was thrown out of the bathroom with such force, he stumbled backwards into the wall. 

“Ever take that long again and I’ll drown you in the toilet!” she snarled at him.

Tigress then slammed the bathroom door closed and locked it. Mime Bomb stood there in shock for a few seconds, wearing nothing but the towel around his waist, and then he got mad. He angrily kicked the bathroom door and then turned to see everyone staring at him.

“That’s what you look like?” Chase asked in surprise. “But you look completely normal! Why do you hide your face with all that ridiculous make-up?”

Mime Bomb was clearly furious, and to everyone’s surprise, he didn’t head for his bedroom, he instead stormed past them to the living room. They watched as he powered on the PS4 and then selected the save data. He then went down through the list of data and began deleting everything under Tigress’ profile.

Zack let out a gasp of horror. “Sheena spent weeks on that game!” he cried out. “She’s going to **murder** you! She was on the final level!”

Mime Bomb clearly didn’t care because he deleted everything, and then tossed the controller aside, storming past everyone to his bedroom. A second later, they heard the door slam closed.

“Well, at least he’s not wearing any makeup.” Carmen said, trying to lighten the mood.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Team Crackle**

**Green Tree Motel**

**July 4th 2019**

**1pm**

**-**

Team Crackle were all dressed as civilians, and were impatiently waiting for Crackle to give them the go-ahead to leave. Crackle was checking on a few last things on the tablet, and were making them wait until he was done.

Crackle had finally opened up to them about his missing memories and the experiments Dr. Bellum had done on him, and they’d been horrified. He told them of his training, of what was expected of him, and how he wasn’t supposed to form any sort of emotions towards any of them. He explained how memories had slowly been returning to him, and how he’d begun to have doubts.

None of them had known what to say, but it was surprisingly the twins who vowed to help him in any way they could. They swore they’d help him remember somehow, and it had actually made Crackle feel a little better now they knew his secret. Neal and Dash had agreed to help as well, but Paper Star had said nothing at all.

Everyone knew how dangerous Dr. Bellum’s experiments were, and no one had any idea what they could do to fix Crackle’s mind. They all promised to research it and find some way to help him. The fact this was done to an operative made them uneasy, knowing it could have just as easily been any of them.

Neal glanced over at the twins as they waited, and he gave them a wide smile. “You two chose to dress exactly the same when you literally could have chosen any outfit to wear at all. That’s cute.”

The twins looked down at their matching jeans and t-shirts, not sure what the problem was. They’d always dressed the same, and the thought hadn’t even occurred to them to wear different outfits.

“Even your sneakers match!” Neal exclaimed in delight. “That’s adorable!”

“Like **you** have room to criticize.” Dash commented, looking him up and down with frown. “What exactly are you wearing?”

Neal glanced down at his sweatpants and sweatshirt with a shrug. “Casual clothes.”

Dash looked like he’d sucked a lemon as he glanced around at what all his teammates were wearing. “You all need help.” he commented with a sigh. “Luckily, **I’m** here to make sure you don’t walk around looking like disasters.”

Neal raised a brow as Dash grabbed the twin’s dufflebags and began digging through them. He frowned at the available selection of clothes and then grabbed blue t-shirts and hoodies out of the bag. He pressed them into the twin’s arms, and then grabbed up Neal’s bag. 

Dash wrinkled his nose at the selection of clothes and compared them critically. “Why does every single casual shirt you own have a zebra on the front?” he demanded.

Neal gave him a shrug. “I like zebras.”

Dash scoffed, but made no further comments as he tried to find something presentable. Finally, he grabbed jeans, a white t-shirt and a grey hoodie. He shoved them into Neal’s arms and then turned to Paper Star. 

Very cautiously he reached for her dufflebag and she watched him with narrowed eyes, but didn’t stop him. Dash seemed more pleased with the selection of clothes in her bag and he selected a very colourful outfit of green jeans, a black band shirt and a pink leather jacket. He knew the contrast of colours would suit her very well.

“You should let me do your hair as well.” he said, looking over her style thoughtfully. “We’re supposed to be blending in, and your hair might be a little too intense for San Diego.”

Dash seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself as he outfitted his teammates, and no one commented, simply watching in amusement as Dash looked over Paper Star’s hair.

“I like my hair the way it is.” she responded, a dangerous tone entering her voice. Her entire life everyone around her had always hated her hair and tried to make her have a more traditional style, and she **detested** normal.

“It’s perfect for you, I like the two colours.” Dash acknowledged. “I was just thinking that we could keep the two colours and separate your hair into ponytails to soften your look a bit for today’s excursion. It will really compliment the punk look you sport, and draw less attention towards us. I have the perfect makeup in mind for you, and it would be nice to work with someone with such a nice face.”

Paper Star narrowed her eyes, and Neal was expecting bloodshed at any moment. To his surprise, Paper Star gave Dash a shrug, her expression mellowing a bit.

“Do what you must.” she said with a sigh. “But don’t cut it, and **don’t** colour it.”

Dash looked like a kid on Christmas Day, and he gave her a pleased nod. He then glanced at everyone watching him, and then frowned when he saw no one had changed yet. “Well, do you want to look somewhat decent, or do want to look like hobos?” he demanded.

Roosevelt glared over at him. “I’m no hobo, I like girls!” he protested angrily.

Dash looked genuinely pained for a moment. “Just...just go change, please.”

Neal was highly amused over the whole thing, and decided to humour him and headed to the bathroom to change clothes. The twins only had to change their shirts and so they did it in the room, putting on the t-shirt and the hoodies Dash had picked out for them.

A few moments later, Neal came out of the bathroom, wearing the new outfit. Dash wrinkled his nose at him critically and then circled him with a frown.

“Well, it’s an **improvement** at least…” he commented. “That hair...though. Ugh. Couldn’t you have at least washed it? It’s disgusting.”

Neal rolled his eyes. “Always so charming, Dash.”

Dash frowned at the oily hair and then got an idea. Approaching Neal’s dufflebag, he dug through it and a moment later pulled out a plain gray beanie. He then approached and yanked it down on top of Neal’s head, hiding most of the hair from view.

“There!” Dash exclaimed. “Much better. Now you **almost** look presentable.”

“Gee, thanks.” Neal said dryly.

Dash looked at Double Trouble who were still dressed identically but looked better put together, and he gave them a nod of approval. “Much better.” he commented.

“Okay, your turn to get dressed.” he informed Paper Star. “I'll get my supplies ready while you change.”

Paper Star didn’t say a single word and headed to the bathroom as Dash glanced over at Crackle who was still staring down at the tablet. He grabbed Crackle’s dufflebag and began digging through it, and within seconds Dash was quickly frowning.

“Why is every casual pair of pants you own capris?” he demanded.

Crackle glanced up. “I have no idea.”

Dash sighed, hating capris but seeing no other option. Crackle was built a lot smaller than the other men on the team, but was too muscular for Paper Star’s clothes. He would have to wear the capris if he wanted to dress casually. Dash selected the best outfit he could find which consisted of capris, t-shirt and hoodie and then tossed them at Crackle who was back to ignoring him.

Paper Star came back out and Dash grabbed his makeup bag and approached her, excited to get to work on her hair. Without comment, she took a seat on the bed and Dash sat behind her and immediately got to work removing the various pins out of her hair. As he began brushing out the hair, he quickly realized her hair was a lot longer than it looked. Wishing he was allowed to cut and style it, he settled for instead brushing it out and separating the hair by colour. Tying it into two even ponytails, he added different coloured hair-ties for contrast and left a single piece of dark hair to hang loose across her forehead to soften her appearance.

Removing a few different shades of makeup, he compared colours and then made his selections. Neal and the twins were watching in interest, and Dash ignored them, makeup being something he was an expert at. Paper Star stayed perfectly still as he worked, and he chose bright colours that would match her outfit as well as her hair. When he was finished, he gave a nod of approval and then put his makeup away.

“There, all done.” he announced. “You’re perfect.”

Paper Star stood and approached the mirror to take a look. When she saw what he’d done, she looked pleasantly surprised, raising a hand to her face. Her face looked flawless and her eyeshadow was in a rainbow of subtle colours that brought out her brown eyes that matched her look perfectly. She normally wore a dark purple lipstick, but Dash had chosen a gentle shade of red and it made her look both feminine and fierce at the same time. 

She turned her gaze to Dash who wasn’t even paying attention to her anymore, and smiled. No one saw it besides Neal who gave her a thumb’s up, causing her to roll her eyes.

“What about you, Dashie?” Neal asked. “What are you going to wear?”

Dash gave him a look like he was an idiot and then indicated the outfit he already had on. Neal stared at the designer slacks, leather boots, silk shirt with vest and then rolled his eyes.

“How in any way is that outfit ‘casual’?” Neal demanded. “It looks like you’re dressed for a posh gentlemen's club.”

Dash gave him an impatient look. “This **is** casual.” he snapped. “I’m wearing a cotton blend vest, with an eggshell white shirt instead of true white, no tie, and sturdier pants for walking.This is a completely casual outfit.” 

Neal looked skeptical. “Whatever you say, love. I still think you look like you’re attending a wedding or something...”

Dash rolled his eyes and then glared over at Crackle who was still doing something on the tablet.

“Can we go now?” he demanded. “It’s already after one! I want time to actually do something today! I’m feeling tired today and don’t want to stay out long.”

Crackle looked up. “I’m just finishing this report.”

“What could you possibly have to report?” Dash demanded. “Our patrol this morning produced nothing!”

“I still have to report that we patrolled.” Crackle explained.

Dash sighed. “Why do we have to wait for you when none of us are even going to spend the day together? We’re all going to do our own thing.”

Crackle gave him a nod. “Fine, go ahead.” he said. “Remember that we are going to meet at the park no later than ten. We’ll meet on the hill overlooking the sand pits.”

His team all nodded, and so Crackle waved them towards the door. “Don’t draw attention to yourselves, and no fighting.” he said firmly.

Neal gave him a salute. “Aye aye, Graham the Lady Hunter, we’ll be on our best behaviour.”

“No fighting.” Crackle repeated.

“Yes, fine.” Dash responded, impatiently.

“**No fighting**.” Crackle repeated, his tone firm.

Neal rolled his eyes. “No fighting.” he acknowledged.

Crackle gave them a nod, and then watched silently as they left the motel room. Paper Star walked off without a glance back at anyone else, and to Neal and Dash’s surprise the twins separated and left in different directions. Neal exchanged a look with Dash, shrugged and then headed off in the same direction as Theodore. Dash stared after them and rubbed at his eyes, feeling exhausted but not willing to give up a free day off. Giving one glance back at the motel, he sighed and then headed off, intending on making the most of his free time.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Team Red Base**

**July 4th**

**1pm**

**-**

Ivy let out a yelp as she got shocked painfully and yanked her hand back from her invention. Sucking on her burnt fingers with a frown, she felt frustrated and a little bit disappointed. She was certain adding a new chip would fix the issue, but she was clearly wrong. 

She’d been having trouble concentrating today and her inventions were paying the price. She didn’t like the idea of her little brother traveling all the way to Wales without her, but she knew she had to remain behind. Carmen needed her here as both a getaway driver and also as her mechanic. Carmen broke a lot of equipment on missions, and Ivy was the only one who could repair them. She was necessary to the missions and couldn’t be spared.

Wales was an incredibly safe country, but Ivy still didn’t like Zack being so far away. Today they were going to celebrate the holiday as a team, and tomorrow Zack would be leaving with Mime Bomb on their private jet. This was the last day she’d see her brother before he left, and Ivy felt incredibly nervous, a thousand things going through her mind.

There was another huge spark, and Ivy winced as a plume of smoke hit her in the face. She needed to pay attention to what she was doing or she was going to hurt herself.

Grabbing a soldering iron, Ivy removed a damaged piece out of her invention and then began repairing the inside of the gadget.

Ivy knew that both Zack and Mime Bomb would actually be a lot safer in Wales rather than remaining in San Diego because of the current threat from Team Crackle, but she still didn’t like it. She’d always been by her brother’s side since the day he was born and him being that far away felt wrong.

Ivy began replacing the damaged wiring, and realized her mind kept wandering no matter how hard she tried to concentrate.

Pushing her goggles up onto her forehead, Ivy rubbed the bridge of her nose, and turned away from her workbench. She wasn’t going to accomplish anything today other than blowing something up, and so she headed out of her little shop towards the kitchen. Passing by her brother, who was excitedly telling Le Chèvre about July the 4th, she headed for the fridge to grab a drink. Opening the fridge door, she frowned when she saw all her Pepsi were gone.

“Alright, who swiped all my soda?” she demanded, irritably. “I put six in there last night!”

Zack glanced over at her. “That would be Mime Bomb.” he replied. “He’s a nervous wreck and hasn’t eaten since yesterday. I had to bully him just to get him to drink anything. He has been downing Pepsi like they’re beer all morning.”

Ivy let out a sigh. Mime Bomb had a really bad habit of swiping other people’s food, but she was willing to let it go considering the circumstance.

“OY!” Ivy bellowed out.”MIME BOMB! COME HERE FOR A SECOND!”

Le Chèvre glared at her from where he sat and made a show of rubbing at his ears. Mime Bomb popped his head into the kitchen a moment later, and then winced at the angry look on Ivy’s face.

“Eat something.” she ordered, pointing to the fridge. “Stop stealing my soda, and actually eat real food. There’s some leftover pizza in there somewhere. Eat that.”

Mime Bomb simply stared at her and so Ivy crossed her arms. “Move it, bub, before I decide to get mad over the Pepsi theft!”

Mime Bomb slunk over to where she was and then obediently grabbed the leftover pizza out of the fridge. Ivy watched him with narrowed eyes, and when it looked like he was going to actually do as ordered, she took a seat at the table with her brother and Le Chèvre.

“Where’s your other half?” Ivy asked.

Le Chèvre made a disdainful sound in the back of his throat. “He went shopping with Sheena and won’t be back for an hour. I wasn’t invited.”

“And how many times have you texted him since he left?” Ivy asked with a wide grin.

Le Chèvre’s phone chose that exact moment to ding as a text came through, and Le Chèvre flushed.

“Ya got it bad, JP!” she said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I think it’s sweet.”

Le Chèvre grumbled something in French and then checked to see what the text said, immediately smiling in response.

“So, what’re the plans for tonight?” Ivy asked.

Zack smiled happily. “We’re going to the big celebration in the park once it’s dark. I’m so excited! I’m going to gorge on every food truck in the area, set off pop-rockets, and then watch the fireworks after dark!”

“You sure you want to stay out that late? Your flight leaves at six tomorrow morning.”

Zack gave a shrug. “Meh, we can sleep on the plane.”

Mime Bomb took a seat with them with two slices of pizza on a plate. 

“You going to the celebrations too?” Ivy questioned him.

Mime Bomb nodded, curious over how excited Zack was. He’d never celebrated the 4th of July, but he knew it was important to Zack, and by the sheer amount of decorations around the city, people made a big deal out of it.

“Carmen and Chase are going to be meeting with that Julia Argent woman at the celebrations. If it’s a trap, there will be plenty of crowd cover to escape in.” Le Chèvre informed her. “I personally wouldn’t have taken the risk.”

“Carmen trusts her, and so does Chase. If they think she will join us, then it will only make our team stronger.” Ivy replied. “Carm knows what she’s doing.”

Le Chèvre let out a rude snort. “If you say so.” he replied, turning his attention back to his phone.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Julia Argent**

**Starbucks at the edge of the park**

**7pm**

**-**

Julia sat at the cafe table and glanced down at her watch. She was a bit early, but she had a feeling Carmen’s crew were somewhere in the crowds, and they likely knew she was there. She sat stiff and straight as she waited, her eyes glued to the crowds walking past. The barista approached the table and Julia looked up, about to give her order. To her surprise, the barista placed a drink down in front of her and then left without a single word. Julia frowned down at the drink and hesitantly picked it up. Taking a very cautious sip, she realized it was a soy latte, her usual drink.

Julia gazed around the cafe, but saw no signs of Team Red. Knowing she was probably being tested, Julia remained calm and took another sip of the latte. She was about halfway finished the latte when someone slipped into the seat across from her. Julia looked up and met Chase’s gaze with a smile.

“Hello, Chase.” she greeted.

“Evening, Ms. Argent.” he replied, setting his own coffee on the table.

“Thank you for agreeing to speak with me.” Julia said, relieved Chase trusted her enough for this meeting. “It’s good to see you.”

Chase gave her a nod, and took a gulp of his coffee, saying nothing. Julia could see his nervousness even though he was trying hard to hide it. She found her gaze settling on his scar, and she could see how Chase’s left eye was a bit red and was obviously healing from an injury. It looked like someone had slashed his face with a machete and she desperately wanted to ask about it. Instead, she took another sip of her latte.

“You remembered my drink.” she commented.

Chase let out a snort. “I’m not **that** unobservant.” he protested. “We used to get coffee every morning together.”

Julia honestly **did** think Chase was that unobservant most of the time, but wisely didn’t say so.

“I need to know that I can trust you, Ms. Argent.” Chase said.

“I am not going to betray your trust.” she promised him.

Chase frowned at her, and she reached out and took his hands in hers. “I swear on Yu Yan’s memory that I will not betray you.”

Chase’s eyes widened and he stiffened, trying to pull his hands away. She tightened her grip and maintained eye contact with him. Chase knew Julia would **never** hurt him by using the memory of his wife against him, and so he slowly relaxed and Julia loosened her hold on him.

“I just want to talk.” she assured him. “Right now, I’m not A.C.M.E, and you’re not on Team Sandiego. We’re just two friends having a conversation.”

Chase stared into her eyes, and he found himself nodding. “I trust you.” he told her.

Only moments after the words left his mouth, Carmen slipped into the seat beside him. Julia stared at her in surprise, and Carmen offered her a smile.

“Hi Jules.”

Julia adjusted her glasses and gave the other woman a nod. “Hello, Carmen Sandiego.”

“I’m here to answer any questions you might have about my team.” Carmen explained.

Julia stared at her for a moment and then nodded. Turning her gaze to Chase, she asked. “Did you betray A.C.M.E and commit espionage?”

Chase nodded. “Yes.”

Julia had been expecting him to deny it and her eyes widened. Chase would get life in prison for such an offense, and she knew he was perfectly aware of that.

“Why?” she asked him gently. “I know you must have had a very good reason, and I just need to know why.”

“A.C.M.E and Interpol are corrupted.” Chase replied. “Both A.C.M.E and V.I.L.E have agents manipulating Interpol and law enforcement to their every whim. They steal government secrets, they break laws, they hurt people, and they ruin lives. They are exactly the type of corruption that I’ve been fighting against my entire life.”

Julia immediately shook her head. “A.C.M.E fights **against** the corruption.” she insisted.

Chase shook his head. “They’re willing to go to any lengths to get to V.I.L.E, even if that means hurting innocent people. A.C.M.E is a militaristic dictatorship where anyone who even **questions** authority is immediately removed from position and punished. A.C.M.E is one woman on a power trip, and I refuse to be a part of it. A.C.M.E is corrupt, and they need to be taken down.”

Julia couldn’t believe how Chase could say all that with so much certainty. “Chase, you’re mistaken. A.C.M.E only cares about fighting against corruption as well. They help people, they don’t hurt them.”

Chase stared at her for a moment, and then reached down into his backpack. He pulled out a thick folder and plopped it onto the table in front of her. “These are all the people that were collateral damage in A.C.M.E’s quest to take down V.I.L.E. The list is extensive.”

Julia stared at the thick folder in surprise, and then pulled it towards her. She opened it and saw it was indeed full of reports and profiles of people she’d never heard of before. She frowned and then looked up at him.

“This can’t be right.”

“They are corrupt.” Chase repeated.

Julia knew Chase had to be mistaken, but knew it would be something she’d have to prove to him. She’d research everything in this folder and then she’d be able to show him where he was mistaken. Until then, she would have to humour him.

“What information did you need from A.C.M.E when you hacked into their servers?” she asked.

“Proof of Michael Finnegan's corruption.” he replied. “A.C.M.E knew all about him and did nothing to stop him. They allowed him to hurt hundreds of people when they could have put him behind bars at any time.”

Julia’s eyes widened. “You were responsible for taking down Michael Finnegan?” she asked in shock.

The reports had been all over the news a few weeks ago, and when it came out what the Finnegans had been responsible for, it had sickened her.

Chase nodded. “By taking down the Finnegans we were able to save thousands of lives.”

Julia’s gaze went to his scar. “Is that how you were injured?” she asked in concern.

Chase raised a hand to his face and then nodded, wincing at the memory. “We ran into some trouble when infiltrating Michael Finnegan’s Poitiers base, and had to fight our way out of the building. We all made it out, but we were all injured.”

“Oh, Chase.” she said in sympathy. “I’m so sorry, but you should have told us about your plans to take down the Finnegans and we could have helped. I’m certain the Chief wanted them gone just as much as you did.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Chase said, his tone growing bitter. “Don’t you remember how our meeting went?’A.C.M.E does not negotiate’ and I am simply a ‘disgrace and embarrassment to France’.”

Julia winced, remembering how horrible the Chief had been to Chase during that meeting.

“A.C.M.E is willing to take lives to further their own agenda and I won’t be a part of it. They are planning on killing Carmen.”

Julia’s eyes widened. It was Carmen now, not Le Femme Rouge.

Carmen had been silent this entire time, and she now spoke up. “My team does not take lives, and we do not hurt innocent people. We may break a few laws, but we help people who are otherwise left to rot by V.I.L.E and A.C.M.E.”

Julia took another sip of her latte, and frowned. “You’re mistaken about A.C.M.E.” she insisted.

“You’re one of the smartest people I know.” Chase told her. “Please just look at the evidence given to you and piece it together.”

Julia was taken aback. Never in their whole partnership did Chase ever acknowledge her intelligence. He’d always been a bit rude and dismissive when she argued with him, and she’d honestly believed he’d thought she was an idiot. To hear him say this, made her feel both relieved and rather concerned. Chase was not acting like his usual self and it was worrying.

“I will look through the file carefully.” she promised him.

If you decide to leave A.C.M.E, there will always be a place for you on our team.” Carmen told her kindly. “We are not a dictatorship, we are a family, and we value everyone’s unique skills and talents equally. Chase is part of our family, and he cares a great deal for you. He was the one that insisted you could be trusted.”

Chase flushed in embarrassment. “I don’t think she needs to know that!” he hissed at Carmen.

Carmen smiled. “No, I think she does.” she replied. “Julia needs to know that she doesn’t need to worry about coming to our side. She needs to know she will be valued, and that we will **listen** to her.”

Carmen gave him a pointed look, and Chase’s flush deepened. 

“Oh...er...yes.” he said, once again turning his gaze to Julia. “I...I wanted to apologize for how I treated you during our partnership. I was incredibly rude, and you did nothing to deserve it. I ignored you, dismissed your opinions, and was unpleasant in every way. I have a lot of issues I’m working through, and I unfairly targeted you. I just wanted to say that...I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Julia.”

Chase averted his gaze as he said this and Julia was dumbfounded. It was true that Chase had been infuriating at times, but she understood he was going through a hard time, and she had never made a big deal out of it. Hearing him say the words though made Julia relieved in a way she couldn’t explain. Chase seemed better than she’d ever seen him and realized that perhaps, Carmen Sandiego’s team had done him good.

Julia reached out and once again took Chase by the hands. “I knew you were going through a hard time.” she assured him. “I never took anything you said to heart. We’re friends Chase, and I understand.”

“Please don’t stay with A.C.M.E.” Chase begged her. “They’re going to get you killed. They don’t care about you, Julia, and the Chief won’t hesitate to toss you aside the moment you can no longer be used.”

Julia frowned. “The Chief would never do that.” she insisted. “She has always looked out for me.”

“Just like how she’d never do that to **me**?” he challenged.

Julia winced, knowing he was right. She hadn’t agreed with what the Chief had said or done to Chase during the interrogation, and it left a seed of doubt in her mind.

Carmen offered the girl another smile. “Just take a few days and give everything a bit of consideration. We will contact you and you can give your answer then.”

This seemed reasonable, and Julia gave her a nod. “Does your team steal?” she demanded.

Carmen nodded. “We steal from V.I.L.E to return stolen property back to their rightful owners.” she replied.

This was exactly what Julia had suspected and she felt just a tiny bit smug. None of this showed on her face however, and she simply gave Carmen a nod.

“I will carefully research this.” she promised. 

“Chase, we should go meet the others now.” Carmen whispered. “We’re going to be late.”

Chase gave her a nod, and then stood up from the table. “It was good to see you, Ms. Argent.” he said, his tone falling back into formal.

“It was good to see you too, Chase.” Julia answered.

“We’ll be in contact, Jules.” Carmen promised, turning towards the door.

“Goodbye, Ms. Agent.” Chase said, following after Carmen.

“Goodbye...” Julia said, watching as they left the cafe without another word.

Chase fell into step beside Carmen and smiled down at her. “So I’m family?” he asked her, thinking of what she had said to Julia.

Carmen smiled up at him in amusement. “Of course you are.” she replied, nudging him in the side.

“Which family member am I?” he questioned thoughtfully. “The father figure?”

Carmen made a face. “Er...no, **not** a father figure.” she replied.

Chase grew thoughtful. “A brother, perhaps?”

Carmen laughed. “No, not a brother either. You’re more of...an uncle.” she said a bit hesitantly.

Chase considered that, and knew it fit him. “An uncle. I can live with that.” he acknowledged.

Carmen gave another laugh at Chase’s expression and nudged him again. “Let’s get to the park so we can meet everyone for supper.”

Chase nodded, and they walked along in a pleasant silence, both lost in thought about the meeting with Julia.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Team Crackle**

**4th of July Celebrations at the park**

**9pm**

**-**

Neal limped his way into the park, surprised at how crowded it was. Celebrating families were all around him, and red, white and blue decorations were everywhere he looked. He grinned at the sight of people with facepaint and silly hats, and he caught sight of a baby dressed as a star. He decided right then and there that he liked this holiday after all. His day hadn’t been ideal, but now it looked like things were finally looking a bit better.

Pulling out his phone, he snapped a couple selfies with the chaos of the celebrations behind him and then texted them to his brother, knowing he’d appreciate an update from him. Continuing on his way through the park, he winced as he walked along, knowing he’d have to find somewhere to sit down for a few minutes.

Finding a bench, he took a seat next to an old man, and glanced down at his phone as it buzzed. 

‘_Are you at a party? Don’t accept any food from strangers _.’

Neal rolled his eyes at his brother’s response. Leave it to Adam to immediately be a buzzkill.

‘_I’m at the local park. It’s Independence Day in the U.S...Happy Eagle Day and all that. _’

His brother’s response came only seconds later.

‘_Parks are dangerous after dark. Are you there by yourself? _ ’

Neal let out an exasperated sigh. ‘_Adam, I’m thirty-two, but no, I’m with five of my co-workers. I’m sure I’ll survive the dangerous activity of watching fireworks. Relax _.’

‘_You’re not drinking are you? _’

Neal gave another roll of his eyes. ‘_ I’ve already downed four bottles of vodka and several dozen cocktails. I’m about to go home with some tattooed biker named Bubba _.’ he responded.

‘_Not funny, Neal _.’

‘_Lmao :p Seriously stop worrying so much. I’ll send you a pic of the fireworks once they start _’

‘_Just be careful _.’

‘_Will do _.’

Neal pocketed his phone and then glanced down at his leg. It was still throbbing painfully, but he knew if he just rested it for a bit, he’d be fine. He’d dislocated his kneecap quite frequently in the past, and knew that it wasn’t anything serious.

Neal sat there for about twenty minutes and then saw a familiar face in the crowd.

“HEY!” he bellowed out. “TEDDY!”

Theodore paused and glanced around in confusion.

“OVER HERE!”

Theodore’s gaze settled on Neal and the huge man heaved a sigh and then approached him. “Hi Neal.” he greeted.

“Hi, Teddy. Did you have a fun day?”

“It was great.” Theodore answered, grinning brightly.

Neal’s eyes immediately fell on the gap in the smile. “You’re missing a tooth!” Neal pointed out. “Did you get in a fight too?”

“You too?” Theodore asked him in surprise, looking him up and down.

Neal laughed. “Yeah...kinda hurt my knee though.”

Theodore looked down at Neal’s skinny legs and frowned in concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, just gotta rest my leg for a bit before I can walk. Just tell Crackle I’ll be along in a while.”

To Neal’s surprise, Theodore knelt down beside him and indicated his back. “Get on.” he invited. 

Neal stared at him a moment and then grinned. “Aw, I knew you loved me, Teddy.”

Theodore rolled his eyes but didn’t comment. Neal was incredibly tall at 6’4 but Theodore still towered over him by nearly a foot. He easily hoisted Neal up onto his back as if he weighed nothing at all, and then began heading in the direction of the sand pits. Neal clung on as they walked along and Theodore held onto him by the legs, clearly worried he was going to drop him. Neal was amused by this, but didn’t comment, just glad he didn’t have to walk on his sore leg.

Neal then leaned in close to Theodore’s ear. “Hey, Teddy, you should stop at that store over there so we can grab drinks.”

Theodore glanced over at the convenience store and cocked his head as he considered it.

“It would be a shame to celebrate July the 4th without a few cold ones, eh?” Neal pointed out.

“We’re not allowed to drink on assignments.” Theodore pointed out.

“We’re not on assignment today.” Neal responded. “We have the day off, remember?”

Neal then spotted Roosevelt towering over the crowd nearby. 

“HEY ROOSE!” he bellowed out. “ROOSE!”

Roosevelt glanced over at them, and then waved, making his way over. The blond was looking a bit ruffled and there was a bit of blood under his nose and Neal suspected he'd been in a fight as well, and he grinned in amusement.

“I’m lost.” Roosevelt admitted as soon as he approached. “Where are we supposed to go?”

“Come help us carry some beer.” Neal invited. “We still have time before we have to meet the others.”

Roosevelt immediately nodded. “Yeah, sounds good. I could really go for a few beers.”

Theodore was still a bit uncertain, but he was now outnumbered and so he gave a nod and then headed for the store. As they entered, Neal flashed the cashier a bright grin who eyed the twins with wary eyes, their huge size intimidating.

“Kia Ora.” Neal greeted. “Don’t suppose you carry Victoria Bitter, do you?”

“Import section at the back.” the cashier hesitantly replied. “Not much left though.”

Neal clapped Theodore on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s grab a case!”

They headed for the back of the store and Roosevelt grabbed a 24 pack of Budweiser as Theodore took Neal to the import section. 

“That’s it there!” Neal told him, pointing.

Theodore wrinkled his nose. “Never heard of this brand.” he complained. “It looks weird.”

“It **is** weird.” Neal confirmed. “It’s **Australian**.”

Theodore stared at the case of beer and then shrugged and grabbed one out of the cooler. Neal snagged a bag of cheetos as they passed by the chips and then they headed for the cashier. The cashier rang in their purchases, and then looked them up and down.

“I’m going to have to see some I.D since you all look under 40.” he commented.

“Sure thing, love.” Neal said, digging out his wallet. Pulling out his New Zealand I.D, he handed it over.

The cashier took the I.D and then stared down at it in confusion. “What is **this**?” he asked.

“New Zealand driver’s license.” Neal responded.

The cashier held the I.D up to the light and then frowned, not sure about it. “Neal Ferguson.” he read out loud. “Can you tell me how old you are today?”

“Thirty-two.”

“Birthdate?”

“November 15th 1987.”

“Okay, fine.” the cashier responded, handing the I.D back. “And you two?”

The twins exchanged a look and then handed over their I.Ds. The cashier barely glanced at them before handing them back.

“$57.85.”

After they’d paid, they made their way out of the store and began heading towards the sand pits where they were supposed to meet the others. Roosevelt paused for a minute to bend down to tie his shoe and Neal glanced around at the crowd, his gaze landing on Mime Bomb who was only standing about ten feet away from them. The mime was with the red-headed boy, and Neal knew they would make an easy target for the three of them. If he brought this to the twin’s attention however, his day off would come to an abrupt end, because Crackle would make them scour the park for the rest of Team Red. 

He met Mime Bomb’s eyes, and then gave him a shrug. “Today’s my day off, and I don’t see anything.” he stated, looking away. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mime Bomb slip away into the crowd, pulling the red-headed boy after him.

“Hmm?” Theodore questioned, glancing over his shoulder at Neal.

“Oh, nothing.” Neal answered. “Just looking forward to relaxing for a while.”

Roosevelt straightened back up and then they were back on their way. The hill wasn’t as busy as the rest of the park and they found Crackle and Paper Star sitting on the grass, watching the people below.

“Hey Team Awesome.” Neal greeted.

Crackle turned to look at them, and he gave them a nod. Theodore helped lower Neal to the ground, and Crackle frowned at him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are you hurt?”

“Just dislocated my kneecap a little bit.” Neal told him. “Happens all the time. I’ll be fine in a couple hours after my leg rests a bit.”

Crackle narrowed his eyes. “How did you dislocate your kneecap?” he asked suspiciously.

“Tripped over a toddler in the park.” Neal lied.

“Be more careful.” Crackle scolded him, still suspicious. “We can’t afford the time to wait for broken bones to heal.”

Neal saluted, and then reached for a beer as Roosevelt ripped the two boxes open.

“Paper Star?” he questioned, holding up a beer.

She glanced up and then held out her hand silently. Neal tossed her the beer and she easily caught it, and cracked it open as Neal reached over and grabbed another one. Crackle stared at his team as they all opened a beer, and he frowned disapprovingly. 

“You all know you’re not allowed to drink.” he stated, his expression quickly becoming annoyed.

“We’re off the clock, love.” Neal pointed out, taking a sip of his own can. He then held one out towards him. “Want one?”

“It’s against the rules.” Crackle said, knowing he would have to punish them for this.

“What V.I.L.E doesn’t know won’t hurt them.” Neal commented. “I picked up some Australian beer. You want a little taste from home?”

“I don’t drink.” Crackle snapped.

Neal let out a snort. “You’re Australian, love, of **course** you drink. Most Australians are drinking Victoria Bitter by the time they’re 15.”

Crackle frowned at the beer held out towards him. Was that true? Would he be familiar with this Australian beer if he tried it? Was it really such a crime if he allowed his team to have **one** night where they had a few beers? Even Dr. Bellum drank quite frequently, and she claimed she made some of her most creative inventions while drunk. If Dr. Bellum drank, then it must be alright for the operatives to do it occasionally too...right?

He very hesitantly reached out and took the can from Neal.

“There you go, love.” Neal said, relieved Crackle was actually giving in.

Crackle stared at the can in his hand and then cracked it open. He gave the beer a careful sniff, and although it smelled foul, the smell was one he knew. Raising the can to his lips, he took a gulp, and he remembered many nights of hanging out with friends next to a lake as they drank and roasted food over an open fire. He remembered laughing and running along the sand as his friends chased him, and cans littered the beach from several hours of heavy drinking.

Crackle downed the can of beer like it was second nature, and Neal let out a laugh. 

“Now, that’s more like it.” the Kiwi commented. “I knew you liked Victoria Bitter.”

Crackle held out his hand, and was tossed a second one.

“Where’s Dash?” Neal asked, glancing around. “It’s after ten.”

Paper Star gave him a disinterested shrug. Neal then noticed that her knuckles were bruised and one of her nails was broken. It seemed like Paper Star also got into a fight, and he smirked. Neal adjusted himself into a more comfortable position and silently sipped on his beer as he watched the men below beginning to set up for the fireworks.

“They wired that wrong.” Crackle commented, also watching the men work. “They’re going to end up detonating all those small ones at once.”

“Oh man, we have to stay to watch that!” Neal exclaimed. “Will anything blow up?”

Crackle took a gulp of his beer before answering. “No, I doubt it. They have fail-safes for that sort of thing. Twelve or so little ones will go off, but it probably won’t damage anything.”

“Still fun though.” Neal commented. “Oh, here comes fancy-pants now!”

Neal watched as Dash made his way up the hill towards them, and Neal waved at him, large grin in place. Dash rolled his eyes at him, but still made his way towards him.

“You’re late, Dashie.”

Dash’s coat was wrinkled, he had a bruise under one eye, and his hair looked mussed and Neal grinning as he realized that they had ALL been in a fight that night. It looked like none of them were capable of following Crackle’s one order for that day, and he laughed. 

Dash’s gaze fell on the beer in Neal’s hand and he gave him a disapproving look. “You’re drinking? Does Crackle know about this-” he cut off when he saw Crackle had a beer in his hand and two empties laying at his feet. “Nevermind.”

“Take a seat!” Neal invited him, patting the ground beside him. “We’re going to watch the fireworks.”

Dash was feeling completely exhausted and would have rather returned to the motel but he reluctantly approached. Frowning at the thought of sitting on the ground, he removed his coat and then folded it, laying it on the ground beside Neal. As he carefully took a seat, being careful not to touch the grass, Neal smirked at him. Dash saw the look and scowled at him.

“Shut up, Neal.”

“Didn’t say anything, love.”

Dash simply glared at him, and unscrewed the bottle of water he held without comment. Neal watched him for a moment and then held out a beer towards him.

“Here, fancy, unwind a little. You never know, you might actually end up having fun.”

Dash curled up his lip at the sight of the beer. “What about me makes you think I would **ever** drink beer?”

“Don’t be such a prude.” Neal responded, setting the beer down in front of him. “Booze is booze.”

Dash ignored the beer with a roll of his eyes, and Neal turned towards the twins with a grin. “Hey, you guys want to hear a funny story about Otterman?”

Roosevelt nodded as he cracked open his third beer. “Yeah. Tell us.”

“Okay, so about five years ago, I was paired up with Moose Boy and Otterman for a mission in Sweden. Everything seemed to be going fine at first, but then the **icicle** incident happened.”

"Icicle incident?” Theodore repeated in confusion.

“Let me explain.” Neal said with a grin. “So we were approaching the museum to break in and-”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Team Red**

**4th of July Celebrations at the park**

**10pm**

-

Zack was startled when Mime Bomb suddenly grabbed his wrist and pulled him away into the crowd.

“Whoa!” he protested. “Where are we going?”

Mime Bomb shot a nervous glance over his shoulder and just kept walking, pulling Zack with him. He knew that if Neal and Double Trouble decided to attack, they wouldn’t stand a chance against them. Zack wasn’t a trained fighter, and Mime Bomb was better at defense rather than offensive fighting. He needed to get Zack as far away from them as possible.

“Wait, man, I’m not ready to go yet.” Zack protested, yanking his wrist away. “I really wanted to watch the fireworks!”

Mime Bomb bit his lower lip and once again glanced behind them. It didn’t look like they were being followed, but it still made him uneasy. Was Neal serious about it being the villain’s day off? Were they really not going to come after them?

“What?” Zack demanded. “Did something happen?”

Mime Bomb knew how much Zack had been looking forward to today and really didn’t want to ruin his fun, especially after what happened yesterday. Just one more day, and he’d have Zack safely away from V.I.L.E for a while. Giving one last glance around, Mime Bomb decided he'd just let Zack enjoy himself while he kept watch for any signs of danger.

“Let’s grab some food!” Zack said, pointing towards the food trucks. “It’s been a few hours since supper and I’m starving again.”

Mime Bomb gave him a nod and Zack grinned and charged for the trucks, the mime following a bit reluctantly behind him. Zack loaded up on hotdogs, corndogs, popcorn, drinks and candy, and Mime Bomb helped him carry it to where the rest of Team Red were waiting.

“Hey, Mime Bomb, get a load of what I got.” Zack whispered, showing him a bottle he’d hidden in his inside coat pocket. “They didn’t even I.D me for this! I’m going to try wine for the first time and get sloshed. You in?”

Mime Bomb didn’t have the heart to tell him it was sparkling apple juice, and simply gave him a nod. 

Zack grinned at him and gave a conspiratorial wink. “Don’t let Ivy find out. I don’t turn twenty-one for another five months.”

Mime Bomb made a zipper motion across his mouth and Zack smiled brightly, jogging over to where Team Red had laid down a few blankets on the grass.

“Hey, guys! This park is awesome! Mime Bomb and I checked out all the vendors, and we watched a music performance by a local band. I’m not really into metal, but Mime Bomb seemed to like it.”

“Did you buy **more** food?” Ivy asked, aghast at the sight of all the snacks. “Bro, you’re going to be spending the whole night in the bathroom if you keep eating that greasy garbage!”

Zack took a seat next to her and patted his stomach. “I have the gut of a champion.” he replied. “I can never resist these spiral fry things.”

Ivy rolled her eyes and reached out to steal a handful of his fries.

“When are the fireworks?” Zack asked, getting comfortable.

“Midnight.” Ivy replied. “We still have two hours to go.”

Zack gave a shrug. “Good, that’ll give me plenty of time to have my snack and then go back for icecream.”

“Ugh.” Ivy complained.

Mime Bomb stared at the crowds all around them but still saw no signs of V.I.L.E. They were in a good position on the hill overlooking the golf course, and knew he’d be able to spot danger before it reached them. Relaxing, he took a seat on the blanket beside Zack and stole a fry.

Le Chèvre and El Toppo were sitting beside them, and the two men were having a quiet discussion between them, their fingers interlocked, as they watched the crowd below. Both seemed completely relaxed, and for the first time in days, Le Chèvre was smiling genuinely. The night was warm and pleasant, and he was finally able to relax and just spend a little time with his boyfriend without having to worry about anything else.

Shadowsan was sitting nearby, eyes closed, and seemed to be meditating. Carmen was chatting with Chase about something quite animatedly, and the ex-agent was listening with rapt interest to whatever she was saying. Tigress was playing on her phone and ignoring everyone around her, but she was at least sitting with them.

Everyone seemed so happy that Mime Bomb didn’t want to ruin the moment, and decided not to mention V.I.L.E unless he was left with no other choice.

“Hey, Mime Bomb, want some of this ‘soda’?” Zack asked, giving him another wink.

Smiling in amusement, Mime Bomb held out his bottle of Sprite and Zack topped it up with some of the sparkling apple juice.

“Enjoy, man.” Zack said in good spirits.

Mime Bomb relaxed and leaned back on the blanket, content to simply enjoy his team’s company for a while.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Team Crackle**

**4th of July Celebrations at the park**

**11pm**

-

Team Crackle were having a great time and had been drinking for over an hour straight. Everyone except Dash were well on their way to getting drunk, and to everyone’s surprise, Crackle let out a laugh at something Neal said. Crackle had been heavily drinking for the full hour and he was now on his 6th beer. He was 1 ahead of Double Trouble who were easily more than three times his body weight. Neal was actually rather impressed the smaller man was able to handle that much alcohol.

“Hey, I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh, wombat!” Neal said, throwing an arm around Crackle’s shoulders. “I guess the beer is doing you a bit of good. We need to get you drunk more often!”

Crackle snickered and pushed him away. “S-Stop, I’m sus-susposed to be s-serious and s-stern with you-you guys.”

Neal laughed. “Right. Well, I think you needed a day off from all that.”

Dash stared down at the beer that still sat unopened in front of him. He had long since finished with his water, and he was honestly tempted by the beer, but didn’t like the idea of drinking such a low-class drink. He was tired and feeling irritable, and wanted alcohol very badly. Letting out a resigned sigh, he reached down and cracked open the beer. Near glanced over at him and shot him a cheeky grin.

“Welcome to the dark side Darth Haber.”

“Oh, shut up.” Dash muttered, taking the straw from his water and sticking it into the can. 

Neal squinted at him in disbelief. “You don’t drink beer with a straw.” he pointed out.

“I’m not putting that dirty can anywhere near my mouth.” Dash responded, taking a sip of the beer.

“Whatever you say, Dashie.” Neal responded in amusement.

A middle-aged woman suddenly stepped in front of them from a family nearby, and she crossed her arms disapprovingly. “Are you **drinking**?” she demanded. “There are children nearby! You're upsetting my boys!”

Neal glanced over at the kids who were too busy playing with sparklers to notice anything around them.

“Right.” he stated with a shrug. “It’s just Pepsi.”

The woman scowled at him. “That is **not** Pepsi!” she snapped, raising her voice. “You’re setting a bad example for my children, and I’d really appreciate it if you put away the beer!”

She received six unimpressed looks, and then they went back to their conversations, completely ignoring her.

The woman seemed to swell in fury and she snatched the can of beer out of Neal’s hand and slammed it to the ground. “Do I have to call the park security?” she demanded, getting right in his face. "This s a **family** park!"

Neal leaned back from her and simply laughed, not intimidated in the least. Crackle however, didn’t appreciate someone threatening one of his teammates. He threw an empty beer can at her, his expression furious.

“Bugger **off**, you bloody bogan before I knock you arse over tit!” he snarled, struggling to get up.

The twins each caught him by a shoulder to keep him sitting, and the woman gaped at him in surprise.

“Excuse me?!” she yelled at him. “How **dare** you-”

“You’d better just leave, love.” Neal suggested, interrupting her. “No one wants any trouble. Just go back to your family, and everyone will be happy. Let’s not ruin the night, eh? Let’s all just enjoy the holiday.”

The woman gave them a dirty look, but must have realized it wasn’t a good idea to antagonize people who were drinking, and she stormed away without another word. Neal then glanced over and clapped Crackle on the back proudly.

“That was perhaps the most Aussie sentence I’ve ever heard.” he complimented. “Good on ya, mate!”

Crackle muttered a bit angrily under his breath and reached for his seventh beer. The twins were grinning widely at their leader, and Neal let out a laugh.

“You should have killed her.” Paper Star commented, from where she was laying at their feet comfortably.

“Naw, too messy.” Neal responded in amusement. 

They drank in silence for a few minutes and then Neal glanced up at the sky. The night was completely clear and there was a blanket of stars in the sky. Neal smiled up at the sky, remembering how he used to play a game with his brother when he was a child where he’d point to the first star that caught his attention and name something he wanted to do in life. They used to have a fun time coming up with the craziest things they could think of, and Neal felt a little bit nostalgic.

“If you guys could do anything at all without judgement, what would it be?” Neal asked.

Crackle seemed genuinely thoughtful as he considered the question. “Go fishing.” he finally answered.

“Fishing, wombat?”

Crackle nodded. “My father used to take me fishing every weekend when I was a kid, and I loved it. I’d sp-spend a day fishing in Australia if I could.”

“Nice choice.” Neal acknowledged. “I’d choose to volunteer at a zebra reserve after doing a bit of travelling.”

“Ugh, **zebras** again. What is with you and zebras?” Dash complained. 

Neal shrugged. “I’ve just always loved them.” he replied. “I think they’re neat. What would **you** choose to do, fancy?”

Dash took another sip of his beer as he considered it. “Paint, I suppose.”

Neal sat up. “Paint? Like a picture?”

Dash nodded, his gaze growing distant. “I’ve always been good at sketching, and I’ve always wanted to try my hand at painting, but I’ve never had the opportunity.”

“What would you paint?” Theodore asked him in interest.

Dash shrugged. “I don’t know, I’d probably just follow a Bob Ross tutorial or something. I don’t know anything about painting or how to do it.”

“Nice.” Crackle responded.

“How about you, Teddy?” Neal asked.

Theodore blushed a little and looked down at the ground. “I’d like to sing.” he responded. "On a stage."

Everyone except for his brother stared at him in surprise, definitely not expecting this.

“You can sing, Teddy?” Neal asked in delight.

Theodore nodded with a smile.

“Okay, let’s hear it!” Neal exclaimed excitedly.

Theodore’s eyes widened and he hurriedly shook his head. 

“Oh, come on, Teddy. You can’t just say that without showing us!” Neal protested. 

Theodore frowned. “You guys will make fun of me.”

Neal slapped a hand over his heart. “I swear we won’t laugh, right guys?”

There was a murmuring of agreement, and Theodore frowned. “There’s no music.”

Neal clapped his hands together. “We can make you some if you like?”

Theodore glanced around at his teammates and saw he had their full attention. “But...what do I sing?”

"Well, it’s the beginning of July…” Neal said thoughtfully. “So sing a Christmas song!”

Dash let out an amused snort beside him, but otherwise stayed silent.

“Come on, Teddy.” Neal begged. “I need this! Sing for us!”

Theodore let out a deep sigh. “If you guys laugh at me, I **swear** I’ll-”

“No laughing.” Neal promised. 

“Fine.” Theodore said a bit grumpily.

Theodore cleared his throat, paused self-consciously for a moment, and then began singing ‘O come, o come Emmanuel’ in a strong and clear voice. 

Everyone stared at him in shock, not expecting such a voice to come out of someone who looked like Theodore. His voice was crisp and clean sounding, and he gained volume as he went, his voice hitting every note perfectly. He closed his eyes as he sang, his voice filled with a confident passion, and Team Crackle sat transfixed, listening to the beautiful baritone notes in silence. The families seated around them all turned to stare, and Theodore sang on without realizing he was attracting attention. 

When he finished the song just a few minutes later, Neal immediately let out a ‘whoop’ and clapped him hard on the arm. The whole team gave him cheers and drunken applause, even Dash clapping for him politely, smiling at the bigger man proudly. The crowd watching also clapped for him, and Theodore’s entire face went scarlet in embarrassment.

“That was fantastic, Teddy!” Neal praised. “Who knew you had it in you!”

“I’ve always liked to sing.” Theodore admitted shyly. “But I was never allowed to join a choir or anything as a kid. I’ve always wanted to sing on a stage just once.”

“What about you, Roose, can you sing too?” Neal asked.

Roosevelt immediately grimaced. “No.” he admitted. “I have no idea how to sing.”

“He’s terrible.” Theodore confirmed.

“Well, what would you do, Roose, if you had the chance?”

Roosevelt smiled as he considered it. “I would like to play professional football. I would crush every skull on the Steelers team.”

“Nice.” Neal commented. “A noble dream.”

Dash glanced down at Paper Star who seemed to be enjoying the interactions despite not really participating. “What about you, Paper Star? What would you do?”

Paper Star took a long drink from her beer as she thought about it. “I don’t know.” she admitted. “I suppose I would like to return to Tokyo…”

“Going home, how very human of you.” Neal teased.

“I would kill my father by tearing out his heart while he watched me do it.”

“...I take that back.” Neal amended. “Yikes…”

Paper Star gave him a shrug and reached for another beer.

Crackle was now on his 9th beer and was looking pretty drunk as he swayed a bit where he sat. The more he drank, the less his emotions hurt and fog didn’t bother him quite as much. Memories were slipping through the fog as his mind became impaired, and so he kept drinking, not caring about the consequences of the hangover he was sure to have.

Dash cracked open another beer, refusing to admit the beer wasn’t nearly as bad as he was pretending it was. Neal was getting pretty tipsy at this point and he threw an arm around Dash’s shoulder, much to the other man’s displeasure. 

“You know what, Dash? You’re okay now that you finally pulled that stick out of yer arse.”

“Let me go, Neal.” Dash ordered, taking a very long drink of his beer. He wasn’t nearly drunk enough to put up with Neal, and he reached for another beer before his third was even finished.

Neal didn’t let go of him, and instead leaned against him as he took a swig of his own beer. Suddenly the fireworks began, and they all looked up as the sky lit up in a rainbow of colours. Theodore stared upwards in awe, a delighted smile on his face and Paper Star smiled as she watched, the fireworks reminding her of a happier time in her life. She didn’t have many good memories, but fireworks were one of the good ones.

They laughed and talked as they watched the fireworks, and for a brief time, the whole team was smiling as they forgot their differences, simply enjoying each other’s company. As Crackle had predicted, there was a massive explosion of fireworks as a dozen went off at once, and Neal cheered loudly snapping a picture of the sky as he did so. There was pandemonium below for a few minutes, and then the fireworks resumed at a much safer rate of fire. 

As Neal had his arm around Dash’s shoulder, he couldn’t help but tease him a little bit, and he stole the straw out of Dash’s beer when he wasn’t looking. Sticking it into his own beer, he took a sip, simply waiting for Dash to notice. Dash went to take a drink of beer, then stared down at his can in mild confusion. He then glanced around on the ground before finally turning his eyes to Neal. His gaze fell on the straw currently in Neal’s mouth and he flushed with anger.

“You stole my straw?!” he snarled. “That’s disgusting, Neal!”

“Oh, you want it back?” Neal asked, pulling it out of his mouth and holding it out.

Dash glared at him and said nothing, simply raising the beer to his lips to drink straight from the can. The message was clear. Dash would rather drink from a germy beer can than touch anything that had been near Neal’s mouth. 

Neal laughed and clapped him on the back in amusement. “Oh, Dash, never change.”

The city had obviously paid a fortune for the fireworks display and they continued to watch as the fireworks became more and more elaborate. Theodore was enjoying them the most and he stared upwards in child-like wonder, and Neal snapped a photo of him in amusement.

Crackle passed out before the finale, slumping heavily against Theodore, his twelfth beer dropping to the ground and spilling onto the grass. To Neal’s immense delight, Dash was soon passed out as well, despite only having four beer, and he shot a grin over at the twins. Both Theodore and Roosevelt were heavily drunk and were cheering and yelling at every firework as they went off, much to the rest of the crowd’s displeasure. Neal couldn’t tell if Paper Star was drunk, but she seemed to be unnaturally serene, her gaze remaining on the fireworks until the very last one.

When the fireworks were over, Neal gave a long and lazy stretch, glancing down at Dash who was leaning against his shoulder.

“Where did Crackle park the van?” Neal wondered out loud.

“Parking lot beside the food trucks.” Paper Star answered, getting unsteadily to her feet. She then fell back down, and immediately vomited onto the grass.

Neal stared at her for a moment, and then reached over to shake Crackle’s shoulder. Their fearless leader didn’t so much as stir, and so Neal reached into Crackle’s hoodie pocket fishing for the car keys.

“Which one of us is the least drunk?” he asked looking over at the twins.

The twins exchanged a look with one another and then pointed at the other, both wavering dangerously. Neal glanced at Paper Star who was still hacking, and then frowned.

“Okay, looks like it’s me.” he said, slowly getting to his feet a bit unsteadily, gently laying Dash down on the ground as he did so. “Gotta go take a piss first though, be right back.”

Neal staggered his way down the hill towards the park bathroom, not especially fond of just going behind a tree like the twins had been doing all night. His leg felt a lot better and it barely hurt as he walked along on the uneven ground. 

Tripping over his own feet, he nearly fell but managed to catch himself on the wall of the bathroom as he entered. Way too wobbly to use a urinal without falling, he entered a stall. He left a few minutes later, washed his hands at the sink and then stumbled his way back outside.

As he walked back towards the hill, he tripped over a trashcan and fell flat on his face. Letting out a curse, he rolled over and looked up to see Mime Bomb staring at him from several feet away. Neal realized the mime had likely been headed to the bathroom as well, and the boy was giving him a wary look.

“Not looking for a fight.” Neal told him, struggling to his feet, almost falling over again. “As far as I’m concerned, I never saw ya, love.”

Mime Bomb’s gaze settled on the car keys in Neal’s hand, and then he watched as Neal fought to remain standing. Neal tripped over his own feet, and fell backwards onto his bottom with a curse, the beer really starting to kick in.

Mime Bomb slowly approached the villain and Neal watched him in confused silence, his mind too fuzzy to have any sort of rational thought process. Mime Bomb then plucked the car keys out of his hand and threw them as far as he could into the nearby duck pond.

“Aw, love.” Neal complained, staring at the pond. “What’d ya do that for?” 

Mime Bomb then turned and walked away, leaving the villain to stare after him in confusion. He struggled to his feet, and frowned at the pond, knowing he’d never be able to find those keys.

“Crackle’s going to be pissed.” Neal muttered, staggering his way back up the hill. “That’s the second pair I’ve lost.”

He stumbled and fell a couple times, but he finally made it back to where his team was waiting for him. Paper Star was now on her feet and the twins glanced over at him in question.

“Er...looks like we’re walking guys.” Neal told them, glad the motel was only a few blocks away. “The car keys are...somewhere.”

No one said a word of complaint, and Theodore gently scooped Dash into his arms as Roosevelt did the same with Crackle. Neal helped support Paper Star, and then they began making their way down the hill, their steps unsteady and awkward. They walked in silence as they headed for the motel and twice they had to stop for Roosevelt to be sick in the street.

Suddenly hearing a siren, they froze and turned around as a police car pulled up beside them. The officer rolled down the window and observed the very drunk group in front of him.

“Everything alright?” he questioned.

“Just had a bit too much to drink, love.” Neal responded. “We’re walking back to our motel.”

“That’s an unusual accent you have there.” the officer observed. “Where are you from?”

“I’m from New Zealand.” Neal replied.

“You folks tourists?”

Neal staggered a bit but nodded. “Yeah, we’re on holiday, and this is our first Eagle Day.”

“Independence Day.” the officer corrected. “Do your friends need an ambulance called?”

Neal glanced over at Dash and Crackle, and then shook his head. “Naw, they just had a bit too much to drink. We’ll make sure they get to bed safe.”

“You have far to walk?” the officer asked.

“No, we’re just staying at the Green Tree Motel one street over. We’re almost there.” Neal assured him. 

Although Neal was just as drunk as the others, he’d always been able to speak clearly when drunk which had gotten him out of a lot of trouble when he was young. The officer gave them a long and hard stare and then nodded.

“Just be careful.” the officer warned them. “This can be a rough neighbourhood at night. We don’t want any tourists getting hurt.”

Neal gave him a nod. “We’ll be careful.” he assured him with a salute. “Thank you for keeping the city safe, officer!”

The officer smiled, gave him a nod and then drove off. Neal immediately gagged.

“Ugh, cops.” he complained. “Worse than cockroaches.”

They made it to their motel without further incident, and then Neal spent five minutes trying to get the key into the keyhole to unlock the door. When he was finally successful, he stumbled his way in and helped Paper Star take a seat on her bed. The twins laid Dash and Crackle down, and then they collapsed on their own bed, both passing out almost immediately. Neal kicked off his sneakers, and then flopped down beside Crackle, not looking forward to the hangover they were all going to have in the morning. Rolling Crackle away from him in case the other man threw up, Neal settled himself comfortably, and finally passed out.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**Next update will hopefully be before Christmas. I'm going to be writing a few side-projects before working on chapter 13. You can expect to see a couple one-shots and request fics shortly.**

**All credit for these gorgeous pics goes to Violetfic and MelodyMeddly! Thank you so much for offering to illustrate this chapter! You both are seriously awesome :D **

**If any artists out there feel inspired, feel free to link me your Broken art and I'll add it into the chapter for everyone to see! :D**

**Credit for all described outfits and Dr. Vess goes to Violetfic.**

**Violetfic is responsible for the Team Crackle group-shot and MelodyMeddly is responsible for the Ivy and Chase pics!**

**I worked seriously hard on this chapter, and so don't forget to leave your comments! ^_^**


	13. Bore Da

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Oops, I'm late with this chapter. lol It took me longer than expected to finish that Christmas fic, :D Here's another long chapter to make up for the wait.
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 13**

**Bore Da**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Zack pressed his face against the window as the plane landed, observing the fog and rain with a frown.

“Not a very nice day out,” he commented, looking disappointed. “It’s a good thing you made me bring a raincoat!”

Mime Bomb rolled his eyes. He had fought with Zack for over an hour before they left San Diego as he tried to get the other boy to pack rain boots, umbrella, and coat, but Zack was determined the weather was supposed to be nice. Zack had even shown him the weather app on his phone, but Mime Bomb knew what Wales was like, and still insisted on the rain-gear. Finally Ivy had packed them for Zack, just wanting Zack to stop arguing about it.

“Where did you find clear rainboots?” Zack asked, watching as Mime Bomb put them on over top of his normal shoes.

Mime Bomb gave him a shrug, and then reached for his raincoat which was also clear. Mime Bomb was dressed in his usual striped sweater and black pants, and Zack hadn’t been able to dissuade him from it. Zack had no idea what Alys’s reaction would be to finding out she had a mime for a brother, but hoped Mime Bomb wouldn’t end up being disappointed.

Zack put on his own raincoat, and stared out the window, hoping it wouldn’t rain the whole time they were in Wales. He could see the nervousness lurking in Mime Bomb’s eyes, and gave him a reassuring smile, knowing that in less than an hour, they’d be meeting Alys.

“Player, did you get us a rental car?” Zack asked, pressing is com.

“Sure did, Zack. It’s a very nice red one.”

“Sweet, red cars are always the best,” he commented. “Where are we picking it up?”

It should be waiting for you in the parking lot,” Player told him. “Now, remember that in Wales you drive on the left side of the road.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Zack responded. “Ivy already made me read an online brochure about safe driving in Wales. She even quizzed me about it afterwards!”

“Make sure to call her once you get a cell signal,” Player instructed. “She’s been going crazy with worry since you left.”

Zack frowned at that, not liking to worry his sister, but knowing that he’d had no choice. “Oh geez...okay I’ll call her right now.”

“Keep in touch and have fun, guys.”

Zack immediately pulled out his com and video-called Ivy. She answered on the first ring, the screen filled with worried blue eyes.

“Zack?! What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Zack rolled his eyes. “Relax, Ivy. I’m just calling to let you know we arrived in Wales.”

Ivy let out a breath of relief. “How’s Mime Bomb?”

“He’s safe too.” Zack assured her. “It’s raining just like he said it would be. We’re about to leave the plane now to find our rental car.”

Ivy gave him a nod. “Call me back once you’re in your hotel room, because I want to hear about Wales.”

Zack grinned at her. “Sure thing, Iv.”

The com was suddenly snatched from Ivy, and Tigress’ furious face filled the screen. “Put. The. Mime. On. The. Phone.” she growled out, her eyes narrowed.

Zak stared at her with wide eyes, and then handed the com over to Mime Bomb. The second he appeared in view, Tigress went ballistic.

"You're so dead, mime, **dead** ! I'm going to be waiting at the airport to beat your ass the second you get off the damn plane in San Diego! There won't be enough left to identify you! I’m going to snap every bone in your body and then mail you back to Wales in a **shoebox** ! You're **DEAD**."

The com then went silent as the call ended.

Zack glanced over at Mime Bomb. "...I think she just discovered you deleted her save file."

Mime Bomb grimaced, not looking forward to his return to San Diego. He now felt that he **may** have overreacted a bit by deleting her save file… 

Zack let out a laugh at his expression and clapped him on the back. “Well, we might as well make the most of your last few days on Earth. Come on, let’s go check out Cardiff.”

Mime Bomb nodded and grabbed his umbrella, which was also clear, and then headed for the door of the plane as the pilot opened it. Opening his umbrella, he stepped outside into Wales for the first time in 15 years. Mime Bomb inhaled deeply as he went down the stairs, but all he could smell was the scent of oil and exhaust fumes from the airport. Zack was clearly excited as he made his way outside, and he threw an arm around Mime Bomb’s shoulders with a grin.

“So, what should we do first? Breakfast?”

Mime Bomb gave a shrug, feeling a bit nervous, his stomach in knots.

“That wasn’t a no, and I’m starving, so let’s go get our car and get food!”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Neal let out a low groan, and raised a hand to his head. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw he was laying in a puddle of vomit and grimaced. Unsure of whether it was his or Crackle’s, he sat up and gagged at the smell of the room. The whole room smelled like a cross between a brewery and vomit, and Neal felt his stomach begin to turn. Holding a hand to his mouth until the nausea passed, he took a deep breath, and slowly peeled the disgusting blankets away from himself.

Rubbing at his pounding head, he glanced beside him at Crackle who was snoring loudly, and clearly still passed out. Glancing down at himself, Neal grimaced at the state of his clothes, and knew he was going to need a shower. As he clutched his head and got to his feet, he realized he’d be able to have the first shower for once.

Grabbing a clean set of clothes, he stumbled his way to the bathroom, turned on the shower and then peeled his disgusting clothes off. Stepping under the hot water, he let out a breath of relief, already feeling a little better. He stood there simply enjoying the water for about five minutes, before he heard the bathroom door open.

“Er...bathroom’s occupied,” he called out.

He then heard the sound of coughing and retching in the direction of the toilet. Poking his head out around the shower curtain, he saw Dash clutching the toilet as he vomited, looking completely miserable.

“You okay, fancy?”

“Does it **look** like I’m okay, you idiot?” Dash snarled back at him, before once again retching into the bowl.

“Geez, you only had four beer,” Neal pointed out. “Crackle had like twelve.”

“Shut up, Neal,” Dash snapped, clearly not in the mood to talk to him.

“You really can’t hold your liquor, fancy. I guess you should stick to Pepsi.”

“I can hold my liquor just **fine**,” Dash retorted. “There was just something wrong with that weird beer. I’ve never felt so awful.”

“Whatever you say, Dash,” Neal snickered, and went back to his shower without another word.

Neal purposely took as long as he could to give Dash time to finish, but after twenty minutes, Neal finally turned the water off in the shower. Poking his head out, he saw Dash was exactly in the same position, looking just as miserable.

“Um, I need to get dressed, fancy…”

“Believe me, I’m not looking,” Dash retorted.

Neal gave a shrug and stepped out, and grabbed a towel as he did so. He watched as Dash dry-heaved into the bowl and was amazed that only four beer could do this to someone.

“Have you ever had beer before?” Neal questioned as he got dressed. “Maybe you’re allergic to it?”

“I’m not allergic to beer,” Dash snapped. “It’s probably just this cheap garbage that my body can’t handle. I’m used to expensive drinks.”

Neal rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, fancy. I’m going to the store to get some hangover supplies, do you want ginger ale for your stomach?”

Dash was being sick again and couldn’t answer, and so Neal took that as a yes, and left the bathroom. His head was pounding, and he knew he needed fluids and painkillers in order to function that day. Wincing as he entered the smelly bedroom, he glanced at the others, and had a feeling they’d be wanting something for their hangovers as well. Grabbing his wallet, Neal left the room, and stepped outside, wincing as the bright sun felt like it was piercing his skull.

Rubbing at his head as he walked, Neal knew there was a gas station nearby and headed for it. Neal usually handled his liquor pretty well, and knew he’d be fine after popping a few aspirin. Neal came to the gas station just a few minutes later, and when he entered, the girl working the front counter glanced up from her magazine.

“Welcome to Gas Mart,” she drawled, sounding like she’d rather be anywhere but working at the moment. “Today’s specials are two for one sports drinks and .50 chocolate bars. Let me know if you need any help.”

She had already gone back to her magazine before she was even done speaking, and so Neal wandered back to the coolers to look for supplies. Grabbing an armful of Gatorades and Ginger Ale, he headed for the register. He set the drinks on the counter and as the cashier began ringing them in, Neal noticed the more expensive items were kept behind the counter. 

“31.08,” she told him. “Cash or card?”

Squinting at the items on the shelf behind her, he pointed towards the painkillers. “Could I also get a box of Aspirin and Tylenol? Oh, maybe those Antacids too.”

She let out a sigh, paused the transaction and then turned to grab what he wanted. She then rang them in as a nearby candy display caught Neal’s attention.

“52.39.”

Neal grabbed a handful of the .50 chocolate bars and placed them on the counter. He then placed a pack of gum on the counter as well, the cashier glaring at him as he did so.

“Is that everything?” she demanded impatiently.

“Yes, I think so, love,” Neal responded, his gaze landing on the nearby wall of slushie machines.

“$63.57.”

“Actually, can you add a small slushie too?”

She gave him a dirty look and pressed a few buttons on her register a bit harder than necessary. “$65.05.”

Neal then placed a pack of tictacs on the counter as well, and the cashier glared at him, as she once again had to press several buttons to add the item to his total.

“66.66.”

“Hey, lucky number!” Neal exclaimed, grinning at the unamused cashier.

Neal handed over cash and as the cashier bagged up his purchases, he headed over to grab his slushie. As he filled a cup with blue slushie, he wondered if this was where Crackle had purchased his massive bag of candy a few days ago. Approaching the cashier to grab his bags, he was amused by the glare she was sending him.

“Thanks, love,” he told her, heading for the door.

“Come again,” she drawled out. “...Or not,” she added in a softer tone.

Neal grinned, but didn’t let her know he’d heard her, deciding he was now going to be a regular customer at this gas station. As he walked back to the motel, he popped a couple Aspirin in his mouth and took a sip of his slushie, wincing when it was not the flavour he was expecting.

“Blech, why is this pineapple?” he muttered, glancing at the blue drink with a frown.

Feeling somewhat betrayed, he took another sip, and frowned, not liking the flavour but still drinking it anyway. By the time he got back to the motel, he had finished the slushie and tossed it in the trashcan at the entrance of the motel.

Opening the door to the room, he entered, immediately gagging at the smell. Setting the drinks on the nearby nightstand, Neal glanced at his teammates and then approached his bed. He carefully removed the sheets and blankets, and then rolled Crackle into the center of the bed, hoping he wasn’t going to be sick again.

Tossing the soiled linen outside the door, he turned to look at the others. Luckily no one else had been sick, and he noticed Dash was missing. Heading for the bathroom, he found him curled up in the fetal position next to the toilet, looking absolutely miserable. Neal knelt down next to him, and placed a hand on Dash’s shoulder.

“You should go lay back down,” he suggested. “Those four beer are really kicking your ass.”

“Shut up, Neal,” Dash muttered. “I think I’ve been poisoned, my stomach is killing me.”

“Don’t be such a wimp, princess, it’s just a hangover. Come on, I’ll help you back to bed.”

To Neal’s surprise, Dash actually allowed Neal to help him back to his feet, and he then stumbled his way back to bed. Neal grabbed the pills, opened them, and then carried a couple back to Dash with a bottle of the ginger ale.

“Drugs and ginger for you, my dear,” Neal said in a tone that was much too chipper for Dash’s tastes.

Dash glared at him and then snatched the pills and bottle from him without a word. Not even checking to see what they were, Dash popped the pills into his mouth and took a sip of the ginger ale. Setting the bottle aside, he then rolled away from Neal without a word of thanks.

Popping a couple more of the pills himself, Neal took a seat on the bed next to Crackle and turned the tv on, making sure the volume was kept extremely low. Neal had a feeling that they were all getting an extra day off and certainly wasn’t complaining.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Mime Bomb grew up on the outskirts of Cardiff and since he wasn’t very familiar with the main city he was discovering everything right alongside Zack. Zack was excitedly pointing out everything he found interesting as they drove along, but the boy’s priority was food and so he kept driving until he saw a restaurant. Zack pulled over and then squinted at the sign written in Welsh.

“Do they serve breakfast here?” he asked Mime Bomb, who was also staring at the sign.

Mime Bomb couldn’t read Welsh very well since he’d only been seven when he’d last read anything in Welsh, but he was able to understand the sign well enough and gave a nod.

“Okay, time to find out how the Welsh eat breakfast!” Zack announced. “I’m starving!”

Removing the key from the ignition, Zack got out of the car and looked up at the sign, frowning at the consonants that seemed to be mashed together to make the words.

“I can’t even begin to guess how to say any of these words,” he commented.

Mime Bomb simply shook his head in amusement and they entered the restaurant, the smell of grease heavy in the air. A waitress approached them and gave Mime Bomb a grin.

“Bore da, hello,” she greeted.

“Hi,” Zack greeted. “We’re hoping to get breakfast?”

“Sure, it’s not everyday we get a mime in Cardiff!”

She led them over to a booth and set two menus on the table in front of them.

“English menu is on the back,” she told them. “Can I get you a drink to start with?”

“Orange juice for me,” Zack told her, and then he glanced at Mime Bomb. “Coffee, right?”

Mime Bomb nodded, and the waitress gave him another smile.

“I’m sorry, but your costume is absolutely adorable! Are you in a play or something?”

Zack gave her a grin. “Yeah, something like that,” he answered.

“That’s really awesome! I’ll be right back with your drinks.” she told them, heading for the kitchen.

“So **that’s** a Welsh accent,” Zack commented, glancing after the waitress. “I’m trying to picture you speaking with that accent… Would you still have a Welsh accent or would you have a British accent from all that time you spent growing up in that fancy private school?”

Mime Bomb raised an eyebrow and gave him a pointed look.

“Oh...right. I suppose you wouldn’t know,” Zack said with a laugh, picking up his menu. He glanced at it with a wrinkled nose and then flipped it over to the English side.

Mime Bomb first glanced through the English side and then flipped it over to the Welsh side. He quickly noticed that the prices were cheaper on the Welsh side even though the menu items were exactly the same. Amused, he knew this was a tactic a lot of businesses pulled, calling it the tourist tax.

“So, what should I get?” Zack asked. “I want to try authentic Welsh food.”

Mime Bomb pointed to an item and Zack looked at it with a frown. “Laverbread platter? What’s laverbread?”

The waitress returned and placed a mug of coffee on the table in front of Mime Bomb, and a tall glass of orange juice in front of Zack. “Laverbread is a Welsh specialty made of fried oats and seaweed.”

Zack couldn’t stop the horrified look from crossing his face and he shot Mime Bomb a betrayed look. “You were going to let me eat seaweed?! Dude, you know how much I hate anything that comes out of the ocean!”

“He may not have known what laverbread was,” the waitress told him with an amused smile. “It’s a very old Welsh dish that’s not made anywhere else in the world.”

Zack shot Mime Bomb a glare. “He’s Welsh, and so he knew very well what he was doing.”

The waitress glanced at Mime Bomb in surprise now noticing that he was looking at the Welsh side of the menu.

“Ble ydych chi'n byw?” she asked him in interest.

Mime Bomb pointed a finger down at the floor and she frowned at him in confusion.

“Sorry, he can’t speak, he’s completely mute,” Zack explained. “What did you ask him?”

“Oh, I was just wondering where he was from.”

“He’s from here, actually,” Zack told her. “He’s been away for a long time though. We’re visiting his sister.”

The waitress now understood what Mime Bomb meant by his gesture, and gave a nod. “Wonderful!” she said. “Welcome home! Now, what can I get for you two?”

“You know what, I’m going to try this weird seaweed bread!” Zack announced, giving Mime Bomb a smug look. “I’ve never actually tried seaweed, so maybe it’ll be the one thing from the ocean I’ll like?”

“That’s the spirit!” the waitress said with a laugh. “One Laverbread platter, and for you, Mr. Mime?”

“He’ll have the same!” Zack said. “If I have to suffer, then so does he!”

Mime Bomb rolled his eyes, but made no protest. The waitress took their menus and then headed for the kitchen. Mime Bomb added cream and sugar to his coffee and then downed it, his nervousness obvious. Zack didn’t comment, but when Mime Bomb suddenly stood up, he gave him a questioning look. He made the sign for bathroom, and Zack gave a nod and so Mime Bomb left the table. 

When Mime Bomb was sure Zack wasn’t paying attention, he left the restaurant and walked down the sidewalk until he was around the corner. The rain had stopped for now, and he gave another glance around to make sure he was alone, and then pulled out Zack’s com.

Biting his lower lip nervously, he dialled his sister’s number. Holding the phone to his ear, he waited and waited as the phone rang, and he leaned against the brick wall of the restaurant, hoping she would answer. After fifteen or twenty rings, the call finally was answered.

[[You had better have a **very** good reason for calling me at seven in the morning,]] Alys snapped in Welsh. 

Mime Bomb winced, not realizing it was so early in the morning.

“Bore da?” Alys demanded when there was no answer. “Hello?”

Mime Bomb had just wanted to hear his sister’s voice for a moment, but it made him feel a little bit pained that he wasn’t able to answer her.

[[I work nights, and am **not** in the mood for this,]] Alys commented. [[Who **is** this?]]

Mime Bomb heard fumbling and assumed she was looking at the caller I.D. 

“You again!” she snapped in English, “I told you to never call me again! Whatever scam you’re trying to pull isn’t going to work! You woke me up after I worked a fourteen hour shift at the pub, and I **swear** I’m going to track you down and punch your nose down your throat, twll tin!”

Mime Bomb wished he could say something to her, but could only listen as she got even angrier.

“You’re really not going to say anything, you creepy mouth-breather? Is this how you get off? Calling up women and trying to scare them? I **dare** you to try this shite in person. I guarantee you won’t be walking after I get through with you.”

Mime Bomb knew the calls were making Alys angry, but this was the only way he could hear her voice for now.

“Don’t call me again!” Alys warned.

The call went dead and Mime Bomb heaved a sigh and pocketed the com. Turning around, he nearly had a heart attack when he saw Zack standing behind him. The other boy was staring at him, arms crossed, and Mime Bomb wasn’t sure how much Zack had overheard from the com.

“Interesting bathroom,” Zack commented, glancing around. “If you wanted to call Alys, I could have helped ya, bud. You didn’t have to sneak away to call her. Do you want me to call her back for you?”

Mime Bomb violently shook his head and headed back for the restaurant. Zack followed along behind him, not quite sure what was going through Mime Bomb’s mind, but he could see he was upset and so he dropped the topic. When they took their seats back in the restaurant, Mime Bomb was carefully avoiding Zack’s gaze, and so Zack decided to distract him.

“You want some more coffee?” he asked. “I know you normally drink like four cups of the stuff during breakfast at home.”

Mime Bomb gave him a nod, still keeping his eyes down.

Zack frowned at him, and then flagged down their waitress as she passed by. 

“He drinks coffee as fast as he breathes oxygen, so is there anyway we can just get a pot for our table?”

“Sorry, hun, that’s against the rules, but I’ll keep a close eye and keep topping him up anytime he gets low.”

The waitress gave Mime Bomb a wink, and then filled his cup. “Your breakfast will be out in just a few minutes.”

Mime Bomb added cream and sugar to his coffee, but still wasn’t looking at Zack.

“Look, I don’t care that you lied to me,” Zack assured him. “I get it, I really do. I know you’re nervous about meeting her, but you’re not alone, and I’m here to help you. I’ll stay with you the whole time. There’s nothing to worry about.” 

Mime Bomb slowly looked up at him, and Zack gave him a smile of encouragement.

“Everything’s going to be fine. Stop worrying about it and have fun. Aren’t you excited to see your home again?”

Mime Bomb had to admit that he **was** rather excited about being back in Wales and gave him a nod. Their waitress then returned with their food and placed two identical plates down in front of them. She then set a piece of paper and pencil down on the table.

“Every day we have a different question, and if you get it right, your meal is free.”

Zack reached out and flipped the piece of paper over. He saw the most complicated math problem he’d ever seen and simply sputtered. “No one could solve this!” he protested.

“The owner used to be a maths professor at a university in Russia. He always thinks it’s fun to make up daily math questions for his customers to solve.”

“I don’t even know what half of this is,” Zack commented. “Ugh, math.”

“You have until you’re finished eating to solve it,” she told them with a laugh. “Let me know if I can get you anything.”

Zack let out a snort and tossed the paper aside, turning his attention to his food. He saw everything on the plate was fried with not a vegetable in sight. Ignoring the black pile of goo sitting in the center of the plate, Zack speared a sausage and took a bite, finding nothing to complain about. He wrinkled his nose when he noticed the first thing Mime Bomb went for was the black goo.

“You’re not really going to eat that, are you? It looks like...tar.”

Mime Bomb gave the black substance a sniff, and the smell was one he knew, and he brought the fork to his mouth as Zack watched on in horror. The taste of the laverbread brought back memories of his family eating out and him flicking a forkful of laverbread at his older sister. She had retaliated by slamming a handful into his hair, and their mother had laughed, much to his grandmother’s chagrin. They had been happy then, and Mime Bomb smiled fondly at the memory.

“It can’t be **that** good,” Zack said skeptically, watching his expression. “Do you think I would like it?”

Mime Bomb immediately shook his head, knowing Zack would definitely not like the salty laverbread.

“Here, you have it then,” Zack then scraping it onto his plate. “You can give me one of your sausages to make up for it.”

They ate in silence, and Mime Bomb flipped over the question sheet out of curiosity. He glanced at it for a moment, and then reached for the pencil.

“Are you actually going to try to figure that out?” Zack asked incredulously.

Mime Bomb began writing and Zack leaned over to watch. He then rolled his eyes when he saw he wrote down 69.

“Very mature Mime Bomb,” he commented, secretly jealous he hadn’t thought of that.

The waitress came back to fill Mime Bomb’s mug again, and she saw the answer sheet. “Oh, are you ready to submit your answer to the owner? Not many people even try.”

“Well, it’s about as good as it will get,” Zack replied.

“Well, good luck,” she told them, taking the piece of paper away.

“I wish we could see the owner’s face when he sees your answer,” Zack said with a snicker. “You do me proud, brother mine.”

They were just finishing their breakfast when the waitress returned with an old man by her side.

“You’re the two young men who solved the equation just now?”

Zack choked on his juice and stared at him with wide eyes. “Eh?” he asked eloquently. 

“Using a calculator is cheating,” he informed them. “I’m sorry, but I can’t award you the free breakfast for that.”

“What?” Zack asked, feeling completely confused. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t show any of your work, and so I would have marked this wrong if you were my students. Unfortunately I cannot accept this answer since you obviously cheated.”

Zack was instantly offended. “We didn’t cheat! We were just writing down a random number and happened to get it right! It was meant to be a joke and we didn’t know it was the real answer!”

The owner stared at the two boys in front of him and knew considering what the answer was, this was a definite possibility. He placed a new sheet of paper down in front of them.

“Very well, then here is tomorrow’s question. If you get this one right, your meal is free.”

Zack crossed his arms. “You know, there were no rules listed on that question sheet. Even if we **did** guess, we still got it right. This kinda seems like you’re trying to weasel out of giving us our free meals.”

The owner frowed at Zack, and narrowed his eyes, instinctively knowing Zack was the type of student he would have hated.

“It’s my business and I make the rules,” he responded. “But **fine**, you beat the system. Now, don’t you feel proud of yourself?”

Zack gave him a dirty look. Without a word, he took out his wallet and slammed twenty pounds onto the table.

“Come on, Mime Bomb, let’s go.” he said, glaring at the owner.

Mime Bomb set down the pencil and then got up to follow Zack out of the restaurant. Once they were gone, the owner turned scolding eyes to the waitress. 

[[Don’t waste my time with kids just goofing off,]] he said. [[One was dressed as a clown, for god’s sake. Kids nowadays are ridiculous.]]

He then snatched back the question sheet, and then paused. The correct answer of 247.9624 was written on the bottom. Like before, no work was shown. Frowning, he turned to the waitress.

[[Who did this?]] he demanded.

[[The mime,]] she responded.

[[And he used a calculator?]]

The waitress shook her head. [[No, sir, I saw him just turn the sheet over, stare at it for a moment and then write his answer.]]

“Вот чёрт!” The owner muttered in Russian. “Это может быть он.”

Without another word, he hurried to the door, but he was too late as Zack was already pulling away from the curb. He stared after them and then let out another curse.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Julia had poured over every document in the folder multiple times. Dozens of lives had been ruined by A.C.M.E, and she had verified the information by researching each and every person in the folder. She had made phone calls, poured over newspaper articles, and it looked like Chase was correct. Julia sat head-in-hand, knowing there was no denying that A.C.M.E was corrupt. She had been helping a corrupt organization hurt people in their quest to take down V.I.L.E.

Julia sat back in her seat, and crossed her arms, simply staring down at the folder with an angry frown. The very last page in the folder had been her own profile which showed A.C.M.E had set up measures to get rid of her if she proved disloyal to their cause. They were going to fire her from Interpol, and make sure she could never work with law enforcement again. They were going to ruin her life when she hadn’t even done anything to deserve it.

Julia was back in Poitiers and so far it seemed A.C.M.E were none the wiser about her detour to San Diego. They had contacted her to tell her to stay put while they ‘restructured’ A.C.M.E, but Julia knew how much they were hurting after the loss of so many agents. It would be months or even years before they were strong enough to take on V.I.L.E again. Julia had no intention of waiting for them to cut her loose, and she knew her decision was now made.

Picking up her phone, she dialled the number Chase had called her from. She waited a moment and the voice of a young boy answered.

“Igor’s crematorium, you stab ‘em, we slab ‘em. How can I help you today?”

Julia hesitated, knowing this was probably a security protocol Carmen had set up in case the phone number was compromised.

“Can you arrange safe travel for me out of Poitiers without A.C.M.E finding out?”

There was a long pause. “Two hours at the Poitiers Biard Airport,” the boy answered, disconnecting the call.

Julia let out a breath of relief. Knowing A.C.M.E wasn’t going to react well to this betrayal, she began packing anything she valued. Carrying her suitcases to her car, she realized that Chase probably hadn’t had the chance to do the same. Knowing that Chase kept his most treasured belongings in a storage locker, Julia got in her car, and started the engine. She knew exactly where Chase’s storage locker was, and which locker was his from his frequent visits there. 

Driving across the city, she entered the storage yard and drove straight up to Chase’s storage locker. Getting out of the car, she approached the locker and saw the sturdy lock on the door. Reaching out, she stared down at the combination lock thoughtfully, and then entered Chase’s wife Yu Yan’s birthdate. The lock clicked open, and Julia pulled open the door, revealing four sealed boxes. Julia knew the contents of the boxes were none of her business, and so she carried them to her car without opening them. Once they were safely packed in the back of her car, she started the ignition and then headed for the bank to withdraw enough cash to survive on for a few weeks.

True to the mystery boy’s word, there was a private jet waiting for her at the airport when she arrived there exactly on time. The pilot helped her carry the boxes and luggage aboard and as the plane door was shut and locked, Julia knew there was no turning back. She was now Team Red.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Zack was beginning to suspect that Mime Bomb was delaying them on purpose. Everytime Zack pointed out that it was getting late and they should head to see Alys, Mime Bomb would point out something new for them to see in the village. The small village that Mime Bomb had grown up in was just outside Cardiff, and Zack loved it. The village was small with only a hundred homes or so and they walked along the cobblestone streets, everything looking like they’d stepped back in time.

Mime Bomb knew the smell of this village, and it caused a pain of homesickness that he hadn’t felt in a very, **very** long time. The air smelled like wildflowers and damp wood, and Mime Bomb’s gaze kept shifting over to the road that led to his old house. Everytime he looked at it, it sent a wave of nervousness through him, having no idea what he’d find at the end of that road. He had no idea if his old house was even still standing, and he had no idea if Alys still lived in the village.

Alys had mentioned working in a pub, and as he and Zack explored the small village, he found himself stopping at each pub to stare in through the front window. After doing this at three different pubs, Zack elbowed him in amusement.

“Craving a drink, are you?” he teased. “If you want one that bad, I won’t tattle on you to Shadowsan.”

Mime Bomb simply shook his head, turning away from the pub with a frown. It was now getting dark, and he knew they’d have to head back to the Bed and Breakfast they were staying at soon. Zack glanced at the setting sun, and knew they probably wouldn’t be meeting Alys that night.

“We have plenty of time,” Zack assured him. “We don’t have to do **everything** today. If you want to wait to meet Alys tomorrow, that’s fine. How about if we head back to get supper?”

Mime Bomb gave one more glance in the direction of his family home, and then gave him a nod. Zack could see the troubled look in his eyes and followed his gaze towards the dirt road at the end of the village.

“What’s over there?” he asked.

Mime Bomb immediately turned and began walking in the opposite direction, heading for the Bed and Breakfast. Zack frowned at the reaction, but followed along behind the mime without a word, getting the feeling something important was down that dirt road. It frustrated Zack that his sign language wasn’t good enough to have a full conversation yet, and vowed to himself to work even harder. Mime Bomb needed someone he could talk to, and Zack wanted him to be able to open up to him.

The moment they entered the Bed and Breakfast, they were greeted by the portly old woman who owned it, and she rushed to take their wet coats.

“I was starting to get worried that you two lambs got lost,” she said with a warm smile. “How do you like our village so far?”

“It’s fantastic!” Zack exclaimed enthusiastically. “It’s like something out of a picture-book! I just wish it wasn’t quite so wet out.”

The woman laughed. “That’s Wales for you, dear. It’s either always raining or always foggy. We get **just** enough sun to keep our crops from dying and that’s about it.”

Mime Bomb couldn’t help but agree with her description of Wales and nodded along with her.

“Now, I bet you two sweethearts are starving. I kept supper warm for you on the stove. Sit down at the table and I’ll fetch it for you.”

Zack’s stomach gave a loud growl at the mention of food and he gave an eager nod, heading for the table without a word. Mime Bomb wasn’t particularly hungry, but he followed Zack and took a seat across from him at the old wooden table. Moments later, two plates rounded with food were set down in front of them.

“Oh, wow!” Zack exclaimed with a grin.

“You’re both far too thin,” the woman chided, and then gave Mime Bomb a poke in the ribs. “Especially you, you’re all skin and bones. I’ll fatten you up, don’t you worry!” 

Zack picked up a piece of dark, speckled bread and took a bite. It was a little bit bitter, but had a very nice flavour to it. “What this?” he asked.

“That’s called Bara Brith. It’s a special bread made only here, and the recipe dates back hundreds of years,”

“Oh, nice!” Zack commented, taking another bite.

“I need to see to a few things, but just leave your dishes on the table when you’re done, and I’ll see to them when I get back.”

The moment she was gone, Zack abandoned all manners, and began wolfing down everything in sight. Mime Bomb poked at his food a bit, but his stomach was in knots and he didn’t feel like eating. He knew he was being a coward about meeting Alys, but he didn’t feel like he was quite ready to handle the rejection if the meeting didn’t go well. He needed to get himself prepared for the worst, and he was sure he’d be ready by the next day.

He glanced over at Zack just as the other boy was about to take a bite out of something and his eyes widened. Reacting on instinct, he slapped the food out of Zack’s hand who simply stared at him in complete surprise.

“What did you do that for?” Zack demanded, his expression becoming enraged. “What’d I do?”

Mime Bomb took the same item off his own plate and then broke it open, showing Zack the inside. Zack stared at the white flaky center of the pastry, and then became horrified.

“Is that **fish**?!”

Mime Bomb nodded, dropping the fishcake back onto his plate.

“Er...thanks for saving me from that,” Zack said sheepishly. “Sorry I yelled at you.”

Mime Bomb gave him a nod, his gaze still looking thoughtful.

“You’re going to hurt that old woman’s feeling if you don’t eat her food.” Zack pointed out. “At least eat **something**.”

Mime Bomb turned his gaze down at his food, and then picked up the piece of Bara Brith. Zack watched him barely nibble the bread and he rolled his eyes.

“If you don’t like it, then you can share with me.” he commented, reaching over and grabbing a few things off Mime Bomb’s plate. “At least this way, you won’t hurt anyone’s feelings.”

Mime Bomb didn’t protest, and a few minutes later, they were making their way upstairs to their rooms. They were the only guests staying at the Bed and Breakfast and they had the whole second floor to themselves. As Zack headed into his own room, he pulled out his com with a resigned look.

“I promised Ivy I would call her back as soon as we were done for the day. This is probably going to be a long call… You can have the first shower if you want?”

Mime Bomb gave him a nod and Zack went into the room, closing the door after him. Mime Bomb stared at the closed door for a few moments and then turned and made his way back downstairs. Putting on his raincoat and boots, he left the Inn, just wanting to check one more pub before he went to bed. The walk to the village was only a kilometer away, and he soon found himself wandering the village for a sign of any pub he hadn’t checked yet. He spotted one at the far end of the village, and he remembered this used to be a grocers when he was a kid.

Just as he was crossing the village square to approach the pub, he saw a car pulling up. Lingering back beside a large stone fountain, he watched as a young woman opened the driver’s door and hefted a wheelchair out. He felt his breath catch in his throat at the sight of the blond-hair and freckles, and just knew this was Alys. He couldn’t see her very well from where he stood, and it was getting dark, but he was still certain.

Alys adjusted the wheelchair, and then pulled herself out of the car with an ease that showed she’d done this hundreds of times before. As she locked her car and wheeled towards the entrance of the bar, a bit of white out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. Turning to look, she was met with the sight of a mime standing in the dark, simply staring at her. Furrowing her brow, she turned towards him, but the mime quickly disappeared into the darkness. She stared at the fountain for a long moment, gave a wary look around, and then wheeled into the pub.

Mime Bomb was pressed up against the back of the fountain, hoping she hadn’t seen him. He waited a few minutes, and then cautiously peeked out, glad to see she was no longer there. Staring towards the pub, Mime Bomb slowly made his way over to the large front window and stared in.

Alys had a black apron on and was serving drinks to the busy pub with a smile on her face and Mime Bomb pressed his hands against the glass, just wanting a closer look. She looked like the Alys he remembered, but how reliable was the memory of a seven year old? He wanted to be absolutely certain, and so he pulled out his com and dialled her number.

He lifted the com to his ear and watched as Alys set down her tray of drinks so she could pull her cellphone out of her apron pocket.

“Bore da?” she answered, her voice sounding happy.

Mime Bomb watched as a look of mild confusion crossed her face.

“Bore da?” she repeated. “Hello? Is anyone there?”

He watched as Alys glanced down at her cellphone and instantly outrage crossed her face.

“You again!” she snarled in English. “I swear I’m going to track you down and-”

Mime Bomb hung up the phone, having his answer. As he turned away from the window, he didn’t realize Alys had glanced up the same time he hung up the phone. She stared at the mime as he put the phone back in his pocket and her eyes widened, glancing down at her own phone. Wheeling to the door of the pub, she glanced out, but the mime was nowhere in sight.

When Mime Bomb got back to the Bed and Breakfast, Zack was waiting for him, not looking impressed.

“Where did you go **this** time?” he demanded. “Why do you keep sneaking off?”

Mime Bomb gave him a shrug and entered the building.

“Did you go to see Alys?” he demanded.

Mime Bomb shook his head, and removed his raincoat, hoping the other boy would just let it drop.

“If you’re trying to go see Alys, I could help you with that,” Zack told him with a frown. “You don’t need to be all sneaky about it! If you want some time alone, just tell me so I don’t worry!”

That was fair and so Mime Bomb gave him a nod, which seemed to appease Zack a bit.

“You can still have the first shower if you want. Your makeup isn’t doing too well in this climate. You kinda look like a murder clown right now.”

Mime Bomb glanced at his reflection in the nearby mirror, and saw his makeup was blending a bit together and headed upstairs to get cleaned up. Now that he knew what Alys looked like and where she worked, he just had to find the courage to approach her.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Crackle was not having a very good day. Even with the pills and gatorade, he had a headache bad enough to leave him completely miserable. He wouldn’t allow anyone to turn on the lights, and he simply laid in bed for most of the morning with an icepack on his forehead.

“Why did I ever agree to drink with you guys?” he muttered to himself.

“Because you wanted to finally have some fun?” Neal suggested, not taking his eyes off the rugby match.

“...I have regrets,” Crackle mumbled.

“Don’t we all, Graham, don’t we all.”

Neal turned the game extremely low and kept as quiet as he could, and by early afternoon, the majority of the team were up and functioning. Dash however, remained curled up in bed for the entire day. By suppertime, Neal wondered if they should be concerned.

“You still alive over there, fancy?”

“Hrnnn,” Dash replied, not moving in the slightest.

Neal approached the bed and glanced down at him, and then began pulling the blankets away from him. When he could finally see him, Neal saw Dash looked absolutely terrible, and frowned.

“I don’t think this is a hangover…” he stated thoughtfully, reaching out to place a hand on Dash’s forehead.

“Don’t touch me with your greasy hands.” Dash snapped out at him, not even opening his eyes.

Neal turned to Crackle. “He feels warm,” he commented, “I think Dash is sick.”

Crackle was almost immediately at Dash’s bedside, pushing Neal aside. He laid his own hand on Dash’s forehead, frowning at the heat he felt.

“Dash, can you open your eyes?” Crackle demanded.

Dash slowly looked up at him. “I’m just tired,” he commented. “I probably caught something from that walking disease over there.”

“Hey, don’t talk about Roose like that!” Neal commented, smiling wide.

Roosevelt simply looked confused, not getting the joke.

“Are you sure you’re just tired?” Crackle asked, looking Dash over with a frown. “Maybe we should take you to a doctor…”

“I’m **fine**.” Dash snapped, pushing Crackle’s hands away from him. “I just want to sleep without being poked at, alright?”

Crackle gave him a nod. “Alright, but take a couple Tylenol for the fever.”

Not having the energy to fight, Dash accepted a couple Tylenol and washed them down with a mouthful of Gatorade.

“Ugh, who willingly buys orange Gatorade?” he complained, rolling away from Crackle. “It’s vile.”

“No, the V.I.L.E stuff is far worse,” Neal teased.

“It would make me feel better if you kill Neal for me,” Dash requested.

“Request denied,” Crackle immediately responded. “No one is killing anyone.”

“Just let me sleep,” Dash groused.

Crackle stared down at him for a few minutes, and wasn’t quite sure what to do. When Dash seemed to be asleep again, he turned to the others and looked them up and down, but they seemed fine. Whatever was affecting Dash was clearly not related to the drinking.

“I guess I owe him an apology for making fun of his four beer limit last night,” Neal stated. “It looks like he might have the flu or something.”

Crackle narrowed his eyes. “Did you get your flu shot like I ordered you to?”

“...uh.”

Crackle let out a deep and irritated sigh. “He probably caught it from **you**, Neal.”

“I’m not sick,” Neal pointed out. “I feel fine!”

“You don’t have to be sick in order to pass the virus on to someone else,” Crackle responded. “Go get your flu shot this afternoon before you spread it to anyone else.”

Neal looked down at Dash and wondered if he really **was** the cause of Dash’s sickness. Realizing the other man was never going to let this go, Neal let out a deep sigh.

“Alright, I’ll go now,” he said. “Does anyone need anything brought back while I’m out?”

“More ginger ale,” Theodore requested.

“Subway,” Roosevelt added.

“I need tampons,” Paper Star commented, her glare daring him to say anything.

Neal was wise enough not to make a joke about it and simply nodded. “Er...I don’t know anything about brands, love, so text me a picture of the box or something... Crackle, you need anything?”

“Bring back a thermometer so I can keep an eye on Dash’s fever.”

“Oral or rectal?” Neal asked, grinning wide.

“Go to hell, greaseball,” Dash mumbled, not even sounding like he was fully awake.

“I guess I’ll just surprise you then,” Neal answered, ignoring the eyeroll Crackle sent his way.

As Neal headed to the door, he gave one last glance back at Dash, hoping the other man was going to be alright.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Zack was starting to get impatient with Mime Bomb. It was now painfully obvious the other boy was doing everything he could to delay meeting with Alys and it was now early evening of their second day, and they still hadn’t done anything of real importance. The day had been completely clear, and the sun had been a welcome change. It was now the end of the day, and the sun was starting to set, and Mime Bomb seemed to have no intention of approaching Alys.

They were sitting next to a duck pond, and Zack let out a sigh, knowing this wasn’t something he could force Mime Bomb to do.

“We came all the way here, Mime Bomb, don’t you at least want to see her?” he asked.

Mime Bomb tossed a rock into the water and he gave a slow nod.

“Are you worried about meeting her?”

Another nod.

“Do you want to go see her right now?”

Mime Bomb’s shoulders stiffened, and Zack’s expression softened, knowing how hard this was for him.

“You’re still worried she’s going to reject you, aren’t you?” he asked.

Mime Bomb tossed another rock into the water, his gaze firmly on the water.

“We’ve been over this, bud, she wouldn’t be looking for you this hard if she was just going to reject you as soon as she meets you.”

Mime Bomb slowly waved a hand at himself and Zack frowned, not understanding. Mime Bomb then repeated the gesture, pointing at his shirt, his face and then his hat.

“Oh! You’re worried she’ll reject you because of your mime costume?”

Mime Bomb gave another slow nod.

“Who cares if you dress as a mime?” Zack responded, tossing a stone of his own into the water. “You’re a living, breathing person, and if she can’t see past a little face-paint, then that’s **her** problem not yours. Maybe she’ll take a little time to come around, or maybe she never will, but you’ll never know unless we try.”

Mime Bomb heaved a sigh.

“Let’s go see her, alright?”

Mime Bomb gave him a nod and Zack clapped him on the back. “I’ll be with you the whole time, I promise. If you get too uncomfortable, we’ll leave, alright?”

Mime Bomb gave another nod.

As they stood to their feet, Zack threw an arm around Mime Bomb’s shoulders. “So, where does your sister live?”

Mime Bomb began leading the way and Zack wasn’t at all surprised when Mime Bomb led them to the dirt road. Mime Bomb had been staring at that road for two days and Zack had figured the road probably led to Alys. As they walked up the dirt road, Mime Bomb closed his eyes, simply taking in the scents of the wet fields around them. This was home, and every part of him recognized it. 

The smell of late-blooming lilacs filled the air the farther they walked down the road, and Mime Bomb knew this was the scent of his mother. Lilacs had always been her favourite smell and she had planted dozens of lilac bushes all over their property, and there were always lilacs in bloom straight from spring until winter. Mime Bomb remembered burying his face in her long red hair, the scent of her lilac shampoo distinct and comforting. The smell now caused him discomfort, and he gazed around at everything as they walked along. The trees and bushes were all much bigger than he remembered, and everything was the same yet different at the same time.

“This is a pretty little road,” Zack commented, looking at all the trees and flowers that bloomed all around them. “What a nice place to live.”

The fields of wildflowers were in full bloom as they walked along, and Mime Bomb stared down at the tiny flowers, feeling a sense of melancholy the more he looked. He used to roll around in these fields every day, loving the smell of the flowers, and his clothes had always been covered in mud and grass stains. His grandmother frequently chided him because of this, but it never dissuaded him.

The walk was 2 kilometers from the village, and when a white house came into sight in the distance, Mime Bomb felt his chest tighten. He hadn’t been sure it would even still be standing, but there it was the same as ever.

The house was white brick, and although old, it seemed like it was being well taken care of. Late-blooming tulips and daffodils lined the walkway leading to the front door, and Mime Bomb hung back, standing beside an old oak tree. Zack stared towards the house and then glanced at the other boy’s nervous expression.

“All you gotta do is knock, bud,” he encouraged. “One little knock and you’ll finally meet Alys again.”

Mime Bomb slowly took a step back until he was fully behind the tree. Zack cocked his head at him, and then leaned against the tree.

“Do you want me to knock?” he asked, taking a step towards the door.

Mime Bomb quickly caught him by the arm and pulled him back as he shook his head.

“You want to do it?”

Mime Bomb nodded.

“Do you just need a bit of time?” Zack asked him, glancing down at his watch. “It’s starting to get late.”

Mime Bomb gave him another nod, feeling certain he’d grow a backbone if he just waited long enough. Letting out a sigh, Zack nodded and took a seat, having a feeling they were going to be there for a while.

“You are perhaps the most indecisive mime I’ve ever met,” Zack commented. “I’m only waiting until seven and then I’m going back to the Inn for supper, okay?”

Mime Bomb took a seat beside him and once again nodded. That was fair, considering Zack had been waiting all day for him to make a decision. They sat there in the bushes as the sun began going down, and Mime Bomb knew he was a coward. He was so worried of being rejected, that he couldn't even go through with it. Zack’s watch finally beeped that it was seven, and Mime Bomb turned regretful eyes to the other boy.

“We can try again tomorrow,” Zack told him. “I think it would be best if I knock for you though, otherwise we could be here for a month.”

As Zack stood up to leave, Mime Bomb remained where he was, feeling stubborn. Zack gave him a questioning look, taking note of the expression.

“You want to stay?” he asked incredulously.

Mime Bomb nodded.

“In the dark?”

Another nod.

Zack wasn’t sure how he felt about this. “I should stay with you.”

Mime Bomb shook his head no and gave Zack a gentle push, not wanting him to miss supper because of him. Zack crossed his arms, trying to ignore how his stomach was growling.

“Okay, but if you’re not back by nine, I’m coming back for you,” Zack told him. “I doubt there’s much here that could hurt you, and so you **should** be fine.”

Mime Bomb turned his attention back to the house and Zack watched him for a few moments, having a feeling Mime Bomb wouldn’t be knocking on that door.

“Don’t stay too long,” he advised, turning to head back towards the road.

Mime Bomb watched him go, and then took a deep breath, trying to make himself have the nerve to approach the house. He sat there for a long time, building up his nerve, and he knew it was probably close to nine now. There were lights on inside the house, and he knew Alys was home, and he slowly stood up, and began taking slow steps towards the door.

Just as he stepped away from the tree, he heard the sound of a door opening. Looking up in surprise, he saw Alys coming out dressed for work. She wheeled down the ramp, but then caught sight of Mime Bomb standing in her front yard. They stared at each other in silence for a moment, but then Alys was suddenly reaching down for a rock.

“What the **hell** is this Pennywise bullshit?" she demanded in English, flinging the rock as hard as she could at Mime Bomb.

The rock struck him hard in the leg, and he jumped back as she picked up another rock.

“Who are you?!” she demanded. 

Mime Bomb stared at her for a moment and then took off running, disappearing into the darkness. Alys flung the rock after him, satisfied when she heard it make contact.

“Like I feel like dealing with bullshit like this,” she muttered to herself, heading for her car. “Creepy clown jackass.”

Mime Bomb rubbed at his sore legs where the rocks had struck him and watched from the shadows as Alys got in her car and drove off. Once she was gone, he stood up from where he was hiding, and knew he had to find a way to tell her who he was. Reaching down into his pocket, he pulled out his missing poster and glanced down at it, hoping that she would recognize him after so many years. Reaching a hand to his face-paint, he knew this probably wasn’t going to be easy. 

Shoving the poster back into his pocket, he began walking down the road, having no idea what he was going to do. He passed by the Bed and Breakfast and found himself heading to town instead, fueled by the need to finally see his sister. The day had been bright and sunny, but as it got darker and darker, the fog began rolling in off the water. It smelled like it was going to rain again, and Mime Bomb hoped it would hold off for a while considering he wasn’t wearing a coat.

When he reached town, he headed for Alys’ pub, having no idea what he was going to do. Her car was parked in the front of the building, like the night before, and he stood beside the fountain simply staring, wondering how he should approach her. He doubted she knew sign language, and wondered how good she was at charades. Biting his lower lip as he stared at the pub, he wondered if it would be best to approach her after her shift so they could speak in private. 

Mime Bomb didn’t have much time to consider this as it suddenly began to rain, and he instinctively ran for the pub to protect his makeup. Barely wet, he stood on the stoop, and glanced at the rain, having no wish to walk all the way back to the Inn while it was raining so hard. Deciding to just wait out the rain in the pub, he slowly pushed open the door and peered in.

The pub was old fashioned with wood panelling across every surface, and the tables were solid wood with long red tablecloths. The bell dinged as he entered and so Mime Bomb quickly dodged to one side out of view, just as Alys looked up.

“Bore d-” she cut off when she saw no one was there.

Alys frowned, and then wheeled over to make sure the door was fully closed. The door was latched correctly, and so she glanced outside, but saw no one there. Furrowing her brow, she glanced around her pub, but just saw her usual customers. Wheeling a bit to one side, she caught sight of Mime Bomb who instantly dove out of sight, realizing he’d been seen.

“Oh, **hell** no!” Alys snarled, wheeling over as fast as she could.

She couldn’t see the mime anywhere, but she knew he had to be somewhere nearby and so she glanced around, her eyes narrowed to slits. Not wanting to give him the chance to slip by her, she suddenly had an idea. Pulling out her cellphone, she searched for the odd California number and then hit redial. There was a pause, and then ringing came from the table right beside her.

Reaching down with lightning fast reflexes, she seized Mime Bomb by the leg and yanked him out from under the table. Mime Bomb stared up at her with wide eyes, but didn’t have time to react as she grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him up. With no hesitation, she began slapping at him hard, and he was caught off guard, and struggled to get his feet under him as she dragged him backwards to keep him off balance.

“I don’t know what the **hell** you’re playing at, you creepy son of a bitch, but I will **not** be used for whatever prank you have planned! You think just because I’m in a wheelchair that I’m an easy target? Think again, you little ffwrch! By the time I’m done with you, **you’re** going to need a wheelchair too!”

Mime Bomb raised his arms to protect his face, and so Alys began driving her fist into his side and back, not once stopping her angry rant.

“You’ve been calling me, spying on me, showing up at my **house**! You’re lucky I don’t snap your skinny little neck, you little stalker! I warned you what I’d do if I ever got my hands on you, and I’m going to make you regret ever coming to Wales! I’m going to beat you into jelly, clown!”

She had half-pulled Mime Bomb onto her lap as she whaled on him mercilessly and Mime Bomb could do nothing but try his best to protect his face and hope for mercy.

“Creepy, **creepy**, little twerp,” Alys snarled angrily. “What made you think it was okay scaring someone like this? I’m going to give you the arse-kicking of your life!”

[[You okay there, Alys?]] one of the customers called over, not looking overly concerned.

[[I’m fine,]] she answered, hitting Mime Bomb hard in the ribs. [[Just dealing with a stupid kid who needed a good kick in the arse.]]

Mime Bomb could feel a panic attack coming on as he curled in on himself in an attempt to escape the pain. As his whole body began to shake, Alys paused and looked down at him with a frown. She couldn’t tell his age because of the makeup, but by the boy’s gangly appearance, she assumed he was probably a teenager. He was practically all arms and legs without an ounce of body fat on him, and she scowled down at him.

“How old are you?” she demanded. “Are you even old enough to be in here?”

Alys grabbed a handful of his red hair and gave it a yank, forcing him to look up at her. He hadn’t made a single sound during the entire beating, but when she looked him in the face, she could see tears beginning to well in his eyes.

Letting out an angry huff, she gave him a couple slaps across the ears, knowing from personal experience how much that stung, and then gave him a violent shake.

“You going to bother me again?” she demanded.

Mime Bomb looked up at her, having no way to communicate what he needed to say. He couldn’t stop his body from shaking, every inch of him aching, and Alys gave him another impatient slap upside the head.

“Are you going to ever come near me again?” she demanded.

Mime Bomb tried to reach into his pocket to pull out his missing poster, but his hands were shaking and he dropped it to the floor. Alys didn’t notice and gave him yet another slap, this time succeeding in making a few tears trickle their way down the mime’s face. She couldn’t understand how he managed to remain completely silent during all this, and scowled at him.

“You’re really committed to this whole mime schtick,” she commented, with a frown. “Just apologize and I’ll let you go.”

Mime Bomb stared up at her with wide blue eyes, and Alys felt like he was just further messing with her, and her fist hit him under the eye hard enough to bruise.

“That’s **it**.” Alys snarled. “I’m tossing you out of my pub, you little haliwr!”

Grabbing Mime Bomb with one powerful arm, she began wheeling and dragged him across the pub in the direction of the door. She opened the door and it was pouring rain out, the ground outside absolute muck. With a mighty toss, she threw Mime Bomb straight out the door, the boy landing with a splat in the mud. He sat there, looking somewhat stunned and Alys gave him a hard look, crossing her arms, observing how the boy’s facepaint was quickly washing off. She caught sight of pale skin littered with freckles and bruises and she felt satisfied, knowing he was going to be feeling that beating for a few days.

“Call me again, or **ever** come to my pub again, and I’ll break both your legs.” she threatened. “ **Never** come near me again or you will regret it.”

Mime Bomb slowly got to his feet as she glared at him, and he stared at her with such misery that she frowned at him. Although it was raining hard and difficult to tell, she had a feeling he was crying.

“Don’t be such a wimp.” she scolded. “I went easy on you. I could have annihilated you, kid. Now go home to your mother, and stop causing trouble!”

Alys then went back inside the pub and Mime Bomb stared after her, knowing he had messed everything up. He had one chance to make a good impression on his sister and instead he came across as a creepy stalker. She would **never** let him get close enough to explain, and he had ruined everything. 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Mime Bomb turned and then began limping in the direction of the Bed and Breakfast. His sister certainly could hit hard, and he winced as he felt bruises on pretty much every part of his body. The rain was icy cold and it soaked into him almost instantly, chilling him to the bone despite it being July. He was aware his makeup was probably all washed off at this point, but he honestly couldn’t find it in him to care. He had ruined his one chance to reconnect with his sister, and there would be no fixing this. She would always see him as a freak, and he only had himself to blame for it.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Alys watched out the window as Mime Bomb limped away, and she wondered if perhaps she’d been a bit hard on the boy. She didn’t know his intentions after all, and maybe it was just supposed to be an innocent prank? She scowled, and then shook her head. No. It wasn’t funny, and she refused to be made a spectacle of for anyone. If anything, she should have called the police and pressed charges on the little delinquent. He was lucky she decided to go easy on him, because if he had been a few years older, she would have seriously beat the daylights out of him.

Her customers were all laughing at the show she’d just put on, and she brushed her hair out of her face and shot them a wide smile.

[[There, now that the trash has been taken out, who needs a refill?]]

As Alys returned to work, she almost put the strange mime boy out of her mind, that is until she saw he had dropped his cellphone on the floor. Letting out an irritated sigh, she rolled over to it and picked it up, having every intention of keeping it until the boy either apologized or his parents came to collect it. Spotting a crumpled piece of paper laying on the floor, she reached down to pick it up, realizing the boy must have also dropped that.

Unfolding the paper, she stared at the very familiar poster of her missing little brother. Frowning in confusion, she glanced towards the door, wondering why he had a copy of the poster, and an **English** one at that. This wasn’t something you’d just find laying around Wales.

Alys looked down at the poster and ran her fingers over the face of her baby brother, smiling at his red hair, freckles and wide blue eyes with affection. Suddenly the face of the mime came to her mind, his red hair soaked from the rain, his face that was covered in freckles and his wide blue eyes the same shade as her own. The poster fell to the ground. She stared at the door, suddenly knowing **exactly** who the mime was.

[[Wilem, watch the bar!]] she ordered, wheeling for the door as fast as she could.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Mime Bomb hugged his arms to his chest as he shivered from the cold, feeling worse about himself by the minute. He felt so stupid, and disappointed in himself. He should have let Zack handle things like the other boy had offered, but instead he’d screwed it all up. He’d just go back to San Diego and leave his sister to believe he was dead, it was easier and better for everyone that way.

Mime Bomb wiped the water out of his eyes, having no idea if it was rain or tears, and not caring either way.

“Mime Bomb?”

Mime Bomb looked up and saw Zack coming towards him wearing a raincoat and holding an umbrella.

“Where have you been?! I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Look at you, you’re soaked and all your makeup washed off!”

Zack sounded angry with him, but Mime Bomb didn’t care and the moment Zack was close, he threw his arms around him in a hug, sobbing into his chest. All anger instantly left Zack and he looked down at Mime Bomb in alarm.

“Mime Bomb?! What happened?”

Mime Bomb simply shook his head, and Zack caught sight of bruises that covered the other boy’s face and became outraged.

“Someone hit you?! Who hit you? Tell me who did it and I’ll pound them into the dirt! Tell me who!”

Once again Mime Bomb shook his head, and Zack had no idea what to do. Mime Bomb had a black eye and it angered Zack more than he realized, knowing someone had dared lay a hand on his adopted brother. Giving Mime Bomb a tight hug, he held the umbrella over them both, wishing he knew who had hurt him. Ushering Mime Bomb to the side of the road as a car approached, Zack didn’t know what else he could do, and simply hugged him tightly.

The car stopped beside them, and when Zack looked up, he saw a pretty woman with blond hair staring at them with wide and frantic eyes.

“Yuri!” she called out desperately. “Yuri Volkov!”

Slowly Mime Bomb turned to face her.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**Next update will hopefully within a week. I'm going to be writing a New Years fic, and I'm hoping to finish it by New Year's Day.**

**All credit for these gorgeous pics goes to Violetfic, Cinnalando, Coulrosaurus and MelodyMeddly! Thank you so much for offering to illustrate this chapter! You guys are seriously awesome :D **

**If any artists out there feel inspired, feel free to link me your Broken art and I'll add it into the chapter for everyone to see! :D**

**Violetfic is responsible for the Alys pic and Mime Bomb in the Rain pic**

**Cinnalando is responsible for the Neal/Dash bathroom pic**

**Coulrosaurus is responsible for the Mime Bomb phone call pic**

**MelodyMeddly is responsible for the Tigress pic**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**


	14. Dr. Vesalius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> WARNING!!! READ THIS WARNING!!
> 
> There is swearing and a bit of blood in this chapter. If you still choose to read it, then you have been warned lol
> 
> Why am I incapable of writing a normal length chapter anymore? (sigh) Here's a 17,000 word chapter for you. lol
> 
> If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork in the chapter so everyone can see it! 
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 14**

**Dr. Vesalius**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Julia was feeling nervous as the plane slowed down to a full stop. She had done a lot of thinking on the flight from Poitiers, and she was hoping Team Red weren’t going to reject her. Carmen had assured her that she could join them, but Julia still felt uncertain. If Carmen changed her mind, Julia would have nowhere to go, and no job to return to. Taking a deep breath, Julia adjusted her glasses and then slowly stood from her seat.

As she approached the back of the plane, the pilot lowered the airstairs for her and the first thing she saw was Chase waiting for her. He was leaning against the side of the van, a welcoming smile on his face and she felt herself relax. She then saw several other members of Team Red and they waved at her, all of them looking friendly as she approached.

The pilot carried down box after box and placed them beside her and Chase gave her a questioning look.

“What’s all this?” he asked in amusement. “Did you bring your whole apartment?

Julia gave him a gentle smile. “I knew I would probably **not** be returning to Poitiers anytime soon, and so I brought a few personal effects.”

“A **few**?” Chase laughed in good nature.

“I also stopped by your storage locker for you. I’m hoping I didn’t overstep my bounds because I brought you everything in there…”

The smile dropped off Chase’s face in an instant and he stared at the boxes with wide eyes, now recognizing them as his own. He slowly made his way towards the boxes, and pulled one of them open. He stared at the photo album resting on the top of a pile of other items and ran his fingers across its cover. Slowly opening it, he stared at the picture of the baby within, his expression quickly turning pained. He then closed it again.

“Chase?” Julia asked in concern. “Are you alright?”

Without a word, Chase threw his arms around her in a bone-crushing hug. Julia was taken by surprise, and she froze, but then she smiled at her friend, returning the hug.

“Thank you.” Chase whispered to her. “I thought I’d never see these boxes ever again.”

“You’re welcome.” Julia replied, glad he wasn’t upset with her.

As Chase released her from the hug, Carmen grinned over at her, waving with a smile. “Hey Jules, how was your flight?”

There was no questioning, no suspicion, just instant acceptance, and Julia felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

“Tiring.” she admitted, approaching the van.

“I’m glad to have you join us.” Carmen told her, smiling never wavering. “Welcome to Team Red.”

Julia laughed, and as Ivy and El Topo helped Chase load the boxes into the van she had a feeling this was exactly where she belonged.

“Come on,” Carmen invited, motioning towards the van. “I’ll get you caught up on what’s going on.”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Crackle let Dash sleep through morning patrol, knowing the flu could take a few days to get over. Dash wasn’t eating or drinking, and it was a fight to even get him to take a few Tylenol. The fever didn’t seem to be getting any better, and Dash was incredibly weak and barely able to talk. Crackle watched him throughout the day, but by early evening, he was getting worried. He left him home while they did an evening patrol and when they returned, Dash was still asleep. Crackle knew they might need to find a doctor soon, and approached to check one more time.

Dash was awoken when he felt a cold hand touch his forehead. Groaning in complaint, he tried to shift away from the cold touch, and was annoyed when he suddenly felt the blankets pulled off him. Shivering miserably, he slowly opened his eyes and saw Crackle hovering over him, the other man’s expression concerned. 

“You’re not looking very good.” Crackle told him.

Dash was too tired to even answer him, and a moment later, he grimaced when a thermometer was shoved into his mouth. It felt like ice in his mouth, but he stayed still until it beeped and it was removed a moment later.

“103.2.” Crackle stated. “Okay, Dash, we’re taking you to a doctor. Your fever’s getting worse.”

Dash didn’t want to move and shook his head. All he wanted to do was sleep, and he reached for the blankets nearby. Crackle moved them out of reach, and then once again placed his cold hand on Dash’s forehead.

“Stop.” Dash complained tiredly. “Cold.”

“Can you get up?” Crackle asked him with a frown.

When Dash’s eyes began closing again, Crackle gave him a shake, earning him a groan.

“We need to take you to the doctor’s, Dash, and I need you to sit up.”

When Dash didn’t answer him, Crackle turned to Theodore. “I’ll need you to carry him. I don’t think he can get up.”

Theodore gave a worried frown down at Dash and then approached. He helped Dash sit up, who immediately squirmed in complaint, the cold air feeling unbearable.

“Cold.” he whined again, pushing weakly at Theodore’s hands.

Theodore grabbed the nearby blankets, wrapped them around Dash, and then easily scooped him into his arms. The second that Dash was warm again, he was instantly asleep, and Theodore gave Crackle an uncertain look.

“I don’t think he just needs a doctor, Crackle, I think he needs a hospital.” he said.

Crackle stared long and hard at Dash and knew Theodore was right. “Alright, I’m going to contact V.I.L.E to get the approval for a hospital visit. I want you to take him to the car and keep a close eye on him.”

As the rest of the team headed for the van, Neal shot Dash a guilty look, knowing this was all his fault. He didn’t even know it was **possible** to pass the flu to someone when he wasn’t even sick!

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Neal asked Crackle.

Crackle gave him an angry look. “I think you’ve done enough, Neal.”

Neal’s stomach twisted in guilt, and he turned and followed the others without another word. Once he was alone, Crackle pulled out his com and made a call. It took a long time for the call to be answered, but finally the tired face of Dr. Vess appeared on the screen. Crackle had never met the doctor that he could remember, and he studied him curiously.

Dr. Vesalius was Yemeni with dark tan skin, shoulder length black hair that was slicked back to keep it out of his face, and piercing hazel eyes that almost looked yellow in the light. He had dark bags under his eyes like it had been years since he’d slept well, and annoyance seemed to be radiating off him in waves.

“This had better be important.” the doctor said, rubbing at his eyes irritably. “I don’t know why you operatives are incapable of letting me sleep for even just **one** night.”

“This is Crackle.” 

Dr. Vess gave him an impatient look. “Yes, I know who your are.” he snapped. “I’m the doctor who treated you for all the stupid things you did during training, you moron. Did the two dozen times you electrocuted yourself slip your mind?”

Crackle had no memory of Dr. Vess, and he frowned as he stared at the man, the angry and impatient voice somehow familiar. The doctor rubbed the bridge of his nose in irritation, and then glared at Crackle.

“What do you want, Crackle? Spit it out before I lose interest.”

“One of my teammates needs to be taken to the hospital. I need authorization.”

Dr. Vess heaved a sigh and Crackle saw him pull a laptop over and open it. “Which one got hurt?” he demanded.

“Dash Haber.”

Dr. Vess raised an eyebrow at that, this clearly not being an operative he was used to dealing with. “What is the injury?” he asked, turning his attention back to the laptop.

“He’s not injured, he’s sick.” Crackle responded.

Dr. Vess frowned at him. “And you think this needs a hospital visit **why**?” he demanded.

“He has a high fever which isn’t going down and we can’t keep him awake. He’s been like this for two days.”

“What was his temperature the last time you checked?”

“103.2.” Crackle responded. “We’ve given him both extra strength Tylenol **and** Advil, but nothing works.”

Dr. Vess looked thoughtful. “Has he complained of any pain?”

Crackle wasn’t sure and have him a shrug. “He hasn’t really been speaking.”

Dr. Vess scratched at the stubble on his chin for a moment and then said. “Show me.”

“I have him in the car already.” Crackle responded. “Once we have authorization, we’re taking him to the hospital.”

“Show me.” Dr. Vess ordered, his tone taking on an edge.

Crackle nodded and then headed for the door, carrying the com with him. When he reached the van, he slid open the back door and poked his head in.

“Bring Dash out for a second, Teddy. Dr. Vess wants to take a look at him.”

Dr. Vess watched through the com as Theodore carried Dash out of the van wrapped in blankets and he took note of the sheen of sweat that covered Dash’s skin.

“Lay him down for a moment.” he ordered. 

Theodore obediently laid him down on the ground, Dash not stirring in the least.

“If his fever won’t come down even with Tylenol, he most likely has an infection of some kind. I need you to strip him and look for any infected wounds or cuts.”

Crackle gave a glance around, but there was no one within sight, and so he gave a nod to Theodore who began unwrapping the blankets from Dash. Dash immediately began shivering again, and when Theodore began peeling off the sweat-soaked clothes, Dash made a groan of complaint. Once Dash was down to his underwear, Crackle began looking him over but found no cuts or injuries at all. Dash’s skin was an unhealthy grey, his skin almost as pale as Neal’s and Dr. Vess stared at him with a frown.

“See if you can wake him.” he ordered.

Crackle shook Dash’s shoulder hard who let out another groan but didn’t open his eyes.

“Dash?” Crackle demanded loudly. “Can you hear me?”

“Pinch him hard right here.” Dr. Vess stated, pointing to a spot on his own neck. “The pain should wake him for a moment.”

Crackle frowned, but did as he was told, and Dash let out a sharp yelp, his eyes flying open.

“Dash Haber.” Dr. Vess said loudly.

Dash’s eyes were wide and unfocused, and he stared at the com in confusion, his whole body shaking from the cold.

“I need to know if you’re in any pain.”

Dash simply blinked at him and didn’t answer, clearly about to fall asleep again.

“Pinch him again.” Dr. Vess ordered.

Dash let out a shrill yelp of protest and slapped a hand to his neck, shooting Crackle a betrayed look.

“Dash Haber.” Dr. Vess, said impatiently. “Are you in any pain?”

Dash glanced back to the com and then slowly gave a nod.

“Where?” Dr. Vess ordered. “Show me.”

Dash looked confused and then slowly pointed a finger to just the right of his belly button. Dr. Vess gave a nod like he expected this and turned his gaze to Crackle.

“I want you to very gently lay your hand on his lower right abdomen for me.”

Crackle did as he was told, and Dash flinched from the cold touch.

“Very, very gently press your hand down.”

When Crackle began pressing, Dash let out an immediate screech of pain and struggled to get away from him. Crackle pulled his hand away, turning wide eyes to the doctor. Dr. Vess gave a satisfied nod.

“That’s what I thought.” he stated.

“You know what’s wrong with him?” Crackle asked. “The skin felt hard on his right side.”

“It’s impossible for me to make a diagnosis for certain over video, but it’s most likely appendicitis.” he replied. “He has all the symptoms.” 

“You mean I **didn’t** give him the flu?” Neal asked, leaning into the com’s view.

Dr. Vess’ expression soured at the sight of Neal. “You have the flu?” he demanded.

“Well, no, but we thought since I was late getting my flu-shot that I may have infected him.”

“No, this is unlikely related to the flu. He’s probably been sick for a while without realizing it.”

“He’s been complaining about being tired for a few days.” Theodore said in realization.

“He’s also been complaining that the take-out food has been bothering his stomach as well.” Neal added

“Get your flu-shot, Neal.” Dr. Vess scolded.

“I **did**.” Neal replied. “I got it yesterday.”

He lifted his sleeve and pointed to a black bruise on his shoulder, and Dr. Vess turned his gaze back to Crackle, immediately losing all interest in Neal.

“I’m going to see to Mr. Haber personally.” he stated. “He could require surgery, and V.I.L.E entrusted me with all operative surgeries. I am going to send in two prescriptions to a local pharmacy near you and these will stabilize his condition until I can make it to you.”

Crackle frowned, glancing back to Dash who had already fallen back asleep. “Why can’t we bring him to a hospital for treatment? He’s really sick.”

“It’s not an emergency yet.” Dr. Vess replied with a shrug. “V.I.L.E likes to avoid operatives gaining unwanted attention in public, and Mr. Haber would be completely at the mercy of these unknown doctors. It’s better for me to deal with this when I arrive. Follow the directions on the medications, and as long as his fever doesn’t reach 105, keep him out of the hospital.”

The sound of singing came from somewhere near Dr. Vess and an annoyed look crossed the doctor’s face as he glared at someone off screen.

“Siren, shut up, I’m on the phone!” he snapped irritably. “Why don’t you go do something useful, and feed the patients?”

The singing continued, and Dr. Vess continued glaring off screen. A few seconds later, they saw someone walk past the screen wearing a white lab coat, and the man mumbled something about sawing off Dr. Vess’ head with a surgical saw, and continued his song as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

Dr. Vess then reached out and caught the man by the wrist. “Actually, I don’t think I want you near my patients right now. Go translate some paperwork for me instead.”

The man yanked his arm away from Dr. Vess, and then walked off, never once pausing his odd song.

Dr. Vess didn’t seem concerned, and turned his attention back to Crackle. “Where is the nearest pharmacy to you?”

“There’s a drug store two blocks from here on Main Street.” Crackle replied. “Jose’s Drugs and Stuff.”

“I’ll send the prescriptions there right now. It will be under the name of John Johnson.” Dr. Vess promised him. “Pick up a few bags of ice and make Mr. Haber take an ice bath to lower his fever. Don’t keep him in for more than five or ten minutes at a time.”

“Where are you?” Crackle demanded. “How long will it take you to reach us?”

“I’m in Russia right now, but I’m booking a private jet as we speak. I can be there in ten hours.”

Crackle shot a worried glance to Dash. Ten hours was a long time to wait, and he hoped it wouldn’t be too late by the time the doctor arrived.

“If his fever doesn’t drop, I’m taking him to the hospital.” Crackle informed him, not caring if he didn’t have permission. “I’ll accept the consequences if it comes to that.”

Dr. Vess raised a brow. “Keep me informed of his condition.” he ordered. “And try to get him to drink something.”

The doctor disconnected the call, and Crackle glanced over at his team with a frown. “I’m not letting Dash out of my sight until his fever breaks. I’m going to get his prescription, and I need one of you to come with me.”

“I want to help.” Neal told him.

“I want to come too.” Theodore insisted.

Crackle nodded, and then turned to Paper Star and Roosevelt. “Stay at the motel, and run a cold bath for Dash. We shouldn’t be more than twenty minutes. I’ll be in touch if anything changes in Dash’s condition.”

Theodore reached for Dash’s clothes that were laying nearby, but Crackle shook his head. “No, just leave them off since Dash needs to take an ice bath as soon as we return.”

Theodore nodded, wrapped Dash in the blankets and lifted him up, Dash not waking as he was jostled around. Neal got into the front seat of the car as Theodore carefully climbed into the back with Dash. Crackle pocketed his com, and took the car keys from Roosevelt, and Paper Star gave him a nudge, causing him to glance at her.

“When Dash dies, will they send us a new teammate or will we become a team of five?” she asked, expression completely earnest. “I’d rather have the bed to myself from now on.”

Crackle‘s eyes widened and then he became furious. “Dash is not going to die.” he snarled. “How about if you show a little support for your teammate, and worry for him?”

Paper Star sighed and rolled her eyes.

Crackle was tempted to go get the crackle rod to teach her a lesson, but didn’t want to waste the time. “Keep this up, Paper Star and you’ll find yourself bunking with Neal instead of Dash from now on.”

“Hey.” Neal complained, realizing he was being used as a punishment.

Crackle gave Paper Star one final glare, and then got into the van. Starting the van, he drove off, glancing in his mirror to see Roosevelt kneeling down to pick up Dash’s clothes as Paper Star stormed off towards their room.

They would definitely be having a chat about this later. Crackle drove as fast as he could to the pharmacy, and then pulled in front of the store, ignoring the handicap signs and pulling sideways across several of the parking spots. 

Turning to the others, he said “Wait here for me, I’ll just be a few minutes. I’ll keep the engine running so the car doesn’t get too hot.”

Roosevelt nodded and glanced down at Dash in his arms who still hadn’t woken. “He’s still shivering.” he commented.

“I’m going to get ice to help with his fever, and we’ll lay the ice on him during the drive back.” Crackle said, getting out of the car. “I’ll be right back.”

Neal and Roosevelt watched Crackle enter the pharmacy, and then Neal reached back and laid his hand on Dash’s forehead. His skin was burning hot to the touch, and he frowned, hoping Dr. Vess would make it there in time.

“Aw, fancy.” Neal said sympathetically.

They waited for twenty minutes, and when there was still no sign of Crackle, they began to grow uneasy. “Should we go check on him?” Neal asked.

“Erm...I don’t know.” Theodore answered uncertainly. “Crackle said to wait here.”

Neal glanced towards the pharmacy. “What if something happened? Maybe I should call him...”

Neal pulled out his com and dialed Crackle’s number. It rang and rang but there was no answer. Neal disconnected the call and then tried again with the same results.

“He’s in trouble.” Neal said, opening the car door. “We need to help him.”

Theodore shifted Dash off his lap so he was sitting on the seat, and then he buckled him in to hold him upright. Theodore then got out of the car as well.

“What about Dash?” he asked.

“Leave the car running for him. It’s too dangerous to bring him.”

Theodore nodded, and they both charged into the pharmacy, expecting a fight. The inside of the pharmacy was destroyed with every shelf and display on the floor, and merchandise was broken and spilled everywhere. The shop owner was clutching his bleeding stomach, laying on the floor in the corner and there was no one else in sight.

“Where did they go?” Neal demanded. 

The man raised a shaking hand and pointed to the back door. Without a second glance at the man, Neal and Theodore took off running out the back door, knowing there was going to be a fight.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

El Topo stared down at his magazine with a frown, observing the flowers and ribbons decorating the wedding thoughtfully. If he ever got married, he’d want a more masculine wedding, but he just wasn’t quite sure what that meant. What would a masculine wedding look like? He scratched at his head, not even sure why he was looking at this magazine. He’d only just starting dating Le Chèvre, and it was ridiculous to think about things like this right now. Letting out a sigh, he tossed the magazine onto the seat next to him and glanced up. He’d been waiting twenty minutes or so for Le Chèvre’s new inhaler, and was starting to get impatient. What was taking so long? Didn’t they just have to slap a sticker on it and that was it?

“G’day, I have a prescription pickup for John Johnson. My doctor would have called it in just a few minutes ago?”

El Topo glanced over to the nearby counter at the unexpected Australian accent. His eyes widened when he saw Crackle standing there, and he quickly turned away, hoping he hadn’t been seen. Sliding down in his seat, he pressed a finger to his ear, turning on his com.

“Player, are you there?” he whispered softly.

Player’s voice came almost instantly. “Antonio? I can barely hear you. Is there something wrong with your com?”

“No, my com is fine. I’m at the pharmacy picking up Jean Paul’s prescription, and Crackle is here. He hasn’t seen me yet, and so I’m talking quietly.”

“And the rest of Team Crackle?” Player asked, sounding alarmed.

El Topo glanced around the tiny pharmacy. “Not in sight. I don’t think he expected any trouble.”

Player sounded excited. “This could be our chance to nab him while he’s alone. I’m contacting the others now. Try not to engage him unless necessary.”

“Si.” El Topo whispered.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Johnson but the prescriptions aren’t quite ready yet. If you take a seat, I’ll call you in about five minutes.”

El Topo tensed up.

“Do you sell ice here?” Crackle asked.

“Yes, it’s up front near the popsicles.” the pharmacist replied.

Crackle gave him a nod, and to El Topo’s relief, Crackle headed over to the coolers on the other side of the store. He watched as Crackle opened the cooler door and then began grabbing a whole armload of bagged ice. He began stacking it next to the door and when he had about twelve bags, he approached the cooler to grab a few bottles of water. El Topo stared at the ice and wondered what Team Crackle could possibly be planning to do with it all.

“John Molchev?” the pharmacist called out loudly.

El Topo froze and watched as Crackle turned around to glance around the store. Their eyes met, and Crackle dropped the water to the floor, his body immediately tensing. 

Knowing he couldn’t allow Crackle to call in reinforcements, El Topo stood to his feet, and then charged, raising his fists to fight. Crackle glanced towards the door, knowing he wouldn’t have time to warn the others, and then stanced his body low to the ground in preparation to take him head on. Using brute strength, El Topo brought both fists down onto Crackle who attempted to block him, but he hadn’t anticipated El Topo’s strength. He was knocked flat to the ground, and before he had the chance to recover, El Topo slammed his fists down onto his back.

Crackle let out a cry of pain and then rolled as El Topo went in for another hit. El Topo’s fist smashed into the ground harmlessly, and Crackle kicked out as hard as he could, catching El Topo hard in the chin. Stumbling back, El Topo was quick to recover and he pounced at the villain, knowing he had to delay him long enough for the others to get there. 

Crackle wished he had his crackle rod with him, and knew he was sorely outclassed strength-wise. El Topo was the top of his class for strength, and although Crackle was pretty stalky, he didn’t stand a chance in a test of strength. He would have to outmaneuver the other man, and take him down that way.

Jumping back, Crackle threw a can of fruit at El Topo’s head who batted it away, but this gave Crackle just enough time to slam his shoulder against one of the shelves. The whole thing toppled over and landed on top of El Topo, who disappeared underneath a pile of canned goods.

Letting out a breath of relief, Crackle glanced over at the pharmacist who was staring wide eyed at him, having no idea what to do. 

“Is that prescription ready yet?” Crackle asked, dusting himself off.

The pharmacist blinked, and then held out a white paper bag without a word. Crackle crossed the store and then reached out for the bag. Suddenly El Topo stood up with such force, he knocked the whole shelf apart sending canned goods flying everywhere.

Crackle let out a sigh, snatched the bag and then stuffed it into his shirt. El Topo’s head was bleeding, and he stumbled as he crawled out of the mess, falling against another shelf and knocking it down.

El Topo raised a hand to his head as he sat there, and it was clear he was disoriented. Crackle knew he had the advantage right now, and so he picked up a broken piece of the shelf and then approached the other man, fully intending on bashing him over the head with it.

Standing over the other man, Crackle raised the metal shelf over his head and was just bringing it down when he was suddenly tackled from behind. Crackle hit the ground hard, his chin hitting the fallen shelf and he felt the hotness of blood as it began pouring down his neck. Looking up, he saw an enraged Le Chèvre standing over him, breathing hard as if he had run the whole way there. Crackle’s gaze shifted over and he saw Carmen standing in the back door, surveying the mess in the pharmacy.

Gritting his teeth, Crackle knew he didn’t stand a chance. He had to retreat, and somehow lead them away from Dash. Crackle’s hand found the broken piece of shelf and in one swift movement, he swung it as hard as he could, hitting Le Chèvre solidly in the stomach. Le Chèvre fell to his knees clutching his stomach and Crackle used that opportunity to leap forward, not towards the door, but rather towards the pharmacist. Carmen had started towards him, but the second he grabbed a civilian, she abruptly stopped.

“We just want to talk, Gray.” she assured him. “No one has to get hurt.”

Crackle held the jagged metal to the man’s throat.

“We aren’t here to hurt you, I promise.” Carmen said gently. “All I want is a conversation. One little short talk, and that’s it.”

Crackle narrowed his eyes and pressed the metal into the man’s neck just hard enough to lightly cut him.

“No, Gray, let him go!” Carmen ordered, taking a step closer. 

Shadowsan was now standing behind her, eyes narrowed at Crackle, and Crackle knew his chances weren’t good. Taking a deep breath, he knew he had to be prepared to die in this fight, because he couldn’t allow himself to be captured. Dr. Bellum had really ground it into him that he was part of her special and secret experiments, and the enemy could **never** be allowed to study him at any costs. Crackle would have no choice but to take his own life if there was no escape. His eyes flitted to the van outside, and he had no idea what the fate of his teammates would be without him. Swallowing heavily, Crackle knew he would fight with everything he had.

“Let the man go.” Carmen ordered. “Don’t hurt him.”

“Then step out of my way.” Crackle said, these being the very first words he ever spoke to her since the mission began.

“Gray…” Carmen said, her tone once again softening. “Can’t we just sit down for a few minutes and talk? There will be no V.I.L.E, no A.C.M.E and no Team Red. We will just be two people having a conversation.”

“Step out of my way.” Crackle repeated, pressing the metal deeper into the neck.

The pharmacist let out a yell of pain and Carmen quickly held her hands up appeasingly. “Okay, okay. We won’t stop you, but please let him go. This isn’t you, and I know you’d never want to hurt anyone.”

Crackle eyed her suspiciously and then began slowly edging his way towards the back door, dragging his hostage with him. Once he reached the door, he glanced out and saw Tigress was standing nearby clearly ready for a fight.

“Call her off.” he ordered, glaring at Carmen.

Carmen pressed her com. “Sheena, stand down, Gray has a hostage, and we have to let him walk.”

Carmen paused for a second and then frowned. “Yes, Sheena, we **are** saving the hostage. Stand down.”

Crackle saw Tigress roll her eyes as she heaved a sigh, and she began backing away down the alley away from him. Crackle gave another look around, and saw how he would escape.

“Gray, I know you.” Carmen said to him, offering him a smile. “You’re a sweet and gentle goofball, who loves animals, and who loves to be with people. We were friends once, and I know you don’t want to hurt anyone. Please just talk with me.”

Crackle slowly began lowering his weapon and Carmen’s smile widened a bit.

“You say you know me…” Crackle stated, cocking his head. “But you don’t know me at **all**, Carmen Sandiego.”

Without another word, Crackle stabbed the piece of metal deeply into the pharmacist’s stomach all while maintaining eye contact with Carmen. He then dropped the man to the floor and ran, climbing over the back fence and hopping down into the parking lot beyond.

“Shadowsan, you call an ambulance the pharmacist.” Carmen ordered. “I’m going after Gray.”

He gave her a nod and she was off, running as fast as she could. She easily leapt over the fence and then bound after Gray, knowing she’d always been faster than him during training.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Neal and Theodore bolted out the back door of the pharmacy and could see a fight taking place in the parking lot next door. They both climbed the fence and then ran straight for the fight, seeing how Crackle looked like he was having a hard time. Crackle was clearly exhausted, and was surrounded on all sides by Team Red. When he saw his teammates approaching, visible relief flashed through his eyes.

Team Red didn’t noticed them until it was too late and Double Trouble hit Shadowsan as hard as he could, knocking the older man to the ground. Neal threw himself at Le Chèvre, bowling the other man over, and then pounced at Tigress without hesitation. Wishing he had his slick suit on, Neal hit her solidly in the stomach and then landed on top of her, pinning her beneath him.

“Heya, puddy tat.” he greeted, grinning down at her.

Tigress let out a snarl of frustration and kicked upwards, flipping him over her head, sending Neal crashing hard to the pavement. Neal then rolled as she stabbed at his face with her claws. Realizing he’d almost been blinded, Neal knew he had to take her down before she got lucky with her swipes. Neal may not have had his slick suit, but he was still agile and incredibly fast, and he was able to keep dodging her as she attacked. Within seconds, Le Chèvre had joined Tigress and they were jumping and punching at him from different directions. Neal concentrated completely on dodging knowing if he could keep avoiding them, they‘d eventually tire.

Theodore was taking on Shadowsan, who had quickly recovered from the attack and was landing hit after hit on the enormous man. Carmen was still squaring off with Crackle, who was limping and completely exhausted, but refusing to give up.

As soon as Le Chèvre began to wheeze, Neal knew he had won. Tigress glanced at her friend in concern as he fumbled for his pocket, and Neal saw his opportunity and body-checked Le Chèvre hard grabbing the inhaler from him as he did so.

“Hey!” Tigress bellowed out, realizing what he did. “Give that back!”

Neal held the inhaler up between his thumb and index finger, and gave her a smirk, trying his best to ignore the gasping and panicking man laying on the ground. El Topo, who had been sitting to the side nursing his head-injury was instantly at Le Chèvre’s side.

“Jean Paul!” he cried out in a panic. “Slow, deep breaths, just concentrate on breathing!”

Tigress once again lunged at Neal who easily dodged her, and she let out a howl of fury and began clawing and swiping at him as fast as she could. If there was one thing that Neal had learned from his fourteen years as an operative, it was patience during a battle. Neal’s stamina was second to none and when outnumbered, he’d always relied on his ability to keep dodging longer than his enemies could attack. Tigress had only been an operative for two years and there was still a lot she hadn’t learned through experience.

Shadowsan saw what Neal was doing and he abandoned his current fight to help. Neal noticed him approaching, and knew things were about to get difficult for him. Quickly knocking Tigress’ feet out from under her, he jumped back just as Shadowsan reached for him.

“Neal, return the inhaler.” Shadowsan ordered, his tone not to be reckoned with.

Neal gave a quick glance to Le Chèvre and saw the other man was quickly turning pale as he fought for breath. As horrible as it was, Neal knew he had no choice but to ignore him, because this inhaler was the only way he could see them getting out of this relatively unscathed.

“Graham!” Neal yelled, whipping the inhaler at the other man at the same time he was tackled by Shadowsan. 

Carmen reached out to catch it, but Crackle was faster and nabbed it out of air before she could get it. Theodore hit Shadowsan off Neal violently and then kicked Tigress as she started to get up.

Carmen suddenly raised a hand to her ear. “You caught Dash Haber?” she repeated.

Crackle’s eyes widened, and he turned to Neal who was the only operative not currently fighting.

“Neal!” he yelled over. “Protect Dash!”

Neal’s eyes widened, and he turned to run back in the direction of the street without a single word.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Chase and Julia walked down the sidewalk, scouting out the area, making sure they didn’t see any other members of Team Crackle nearby.

“Does this happen often?” Julia asked.

“Hmm?” Chase questioned, glancing down at her.

“Do you often have sudden confrontations with V.I.L.E like this?”

Chase gave a shrug. “Not really, but it’s been happening more often lately. This team that V.I.L.E created is pretty new, and this is only our second time confronting them.”

Julia nodded. “And Carmen believes she can end this peacefully?”

“I am not convinced.” Chase told her with a frown. “They seem to think the leader is brain-damaged in some way, and I think this is dangerous. I don’t trust it…”

Julia could understand his point of view and nodded. “I think we need to trust Carmen on this since she knows these V.I.L.E agents personally.”

“Ugh!” Chase cried out in outrage. “Look at this!”

Julia glanced at the van he indicated and gave him a questioning look.

“This van does not have handicap plates and they are parked across THREE handicap spots. They even left their car idling!”

Julia knew they had bigger things to be worried about than an inconsiderate driver, but then she caught sight of someone sitting in the backseat. Her eyes widened.

“Chase, isn’t that part of Team Crackle?” she asked.

Chase stared at Dash through the window and scratched at his chin thoughtfully, honestly not certain.

“I studied the files on V.I.L.E thoroughly last night.” Julia told him. “And I believe that is Dash Haber.”

Chase stared at the sleeping man thoughtfully. Were they actually **that** lucky to catch a member of Team Crackle while they were napping?! Chase removed his handcuffs, and then quietly opened the van door. Dash remained asleep and so Chase very slowly and carefully reached out and cuffed Dash’s hands together. Chase glanced at Julia and when she gave him a nod, he reached out and shook Dash’s shoulder sharply.

Dash remained fast asleep, and Chase frowned and gave him an even harder shake. When he still didn’t react, Chase reached over and unbuckled Dash’s seatbelt. Dash immediately began to fall out of the van and Chase quickly caught him by reflex. Not expecting this, he awkwardly pulled him out of the van and then laid him down on the ground.

“What’s wrong with him?” Julia wondered with a frown.

“Drunk.” Chase replied rolling his eyes.

“Why is he in his underpants?” Julia asked, noticing that the villain wasn’t wearing much under the blankets.

Chase gave a shrug. “People do stupid things when they’re drunk.” he replied. “Lucky for us, this Dash Haber chose the wrong day to go out drinking.”

Julia looked at Dash’s ashen skin and wasn’t so sure. “I don’t know, Chase… Maybe he’s hurt?”

Chase let out a sigh but gave her a nod of acknowledgement and pulled aside the blankets so he could carefully look over the villain.

“Not a mark on him.” Chase confirmed. “He’s just drunk.”

Chase raised a hand to his com and activated it. “Chase and Julia reporting in. We’ve got Dash Haber and have him cuffed and in our custody.”

Chase covered the villain with the blanket again and easily picked him up. As they carried him in the direction of where Ivy was parked, Dash began to shiver in his sleep, and Chase frowned down at him. He wrapped the blankets a little more tightly around the villain, wondering just how much the villain had drank to get in this state.

“Whoa, you really **did** get him!” Ivy exclaimed in awe. “Let’s put him in the back before the rest of Team Crackle notice!”

It was at that moment that Neal burst out of the alley, stared at the empty van, and immediately zeroed in on Chase and Julia up the street a bit. He charged over, ready to fight, but then he caught sight of Dash already tied up and blindfolded in the back of the van. He came to an abrupt stop, realizing how easily they were going to get away with Dash. It would only take one of these three people to drive off with the van while he was busy fighting. If they left with Dash, Crackle might not be able to get him back.

Neal glanced at Dash knowing how helpless he was right now, and knowing he needed to be protected at all costs. 

“You will not get him!” Chase yelled, stepping forward with his fists raised. “You might as well give up now!”

If Dash was taken, it would be extremely difficult to find out where Team Red were keeping him. Dash was in no condition to escape, and Team Red had no idea what was wrong with the villain. Dash could die if he didn’t get medical attention, and Neal furrowed his brow in worry. Knowing it was the best choice where Dash was concerned, Neal let out a defeated breath and slowly lowered himself to his knees. As he placed his hands on top of his head, Chase stared at him in complete shock, not expecting the villain to actually give up.

“Oh...er...wise decision.” he said, pulling out a second pair of cuffs.

As Chase approached to handcuff him, Neal glanced up at Julia, and a surprised look crossed his face as he recognized her. “Oh, hello again.” he greeted her with a strained smile. “We keep meeting like this.”

Julia said nothing, simply adjusting her glasses as she stared down at him with a frown. Neal was bound in ropes and then a sack was placed over his head and a few moments later he was in the back of the van with Dash.

“Carm, we just got Neal the Eel as well.” Ivy announced proudly.

“Get out of there before the others can get to you.” Carmen said, her tone urgent. “We’ll meet up at base.”

“Gotcha.” Ivy replied, turned on the ignition.

Chase and Julia climbed into the van and a few seconds later, they were speeding off in the direction of base.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Crackle’s eyes widened in surprise when suddenly Carmen took a step back from him when she had the opportunity to land a hit. He watched her reach up to touch her earring, and then she begin speaking.

“Get out of there before the others can get to you.” Carmen said, her tone urgent. “We’ll meet up at base.”

Carmen then turned back to Crackle and said. “We’ll let you walk away right now if you give us the inhaler.” she told him. “I give you my word that you can go and we won’t follow you. We will walk the opposite direction.”

Crackle narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Why was she giving up so easily? His gaze flitted over to Le Chèvre who looked like he was about to pass out, and wondered if it was worry for her teammate that was making her back down. He could see no other way out of this situation, and gave her a slow nod.

“Your team will begin walking **that** way.” Crackle stated, pointing. “I will throw you the inhaler once we’re far enough away.”

Carmen gave him an uncertain look. “If you don’t return the inhaler, we’ll pursue you.” she promised.

Crackle gave her a scowl and motioned for Theodore to come with him. Theodore gave one last glare to Tigress and Shadowsan and then joined Crackle’s side. El Topo picked up Le Chèvre and slowly Team Red began backing away. Once they were almost back to the street, Crackle drew back his arm and threw the inhaler across the parking lot to Team Red. Shadowsan caught it, and immediately knelt beside Le Chèvre to give it to him. As they saw to Le Chèvre, Crackle took off at a run towards the van.

When they made it to the van, they saw the engine was still running but the back door was wide open. Neal and Dash were nowhere in sight, and Crackle frowned glancing up and down the street. Climbing into the van as he pulled out his com, he allowed Roosevelt to get in the driver’s seat. As they sped off, Crackle dialed Neal’s number and then waited.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Neal couldn’t tell how many turns they had taken, but after a few minutes the van stopped and he heard the others get out. A few seconds later he was pulled out of the van and he was roughly searched.

“Player, can you block this phone from being traced?” Julia asked.

There was no answer, and so Neal assumed she must have been speaking to someone over her com.

“Be careful with Dash.” Neal instructed. “He’s sick right now and needs a doctor.”

“Hush you.” Chase scolded. “We’re not going to fall for any of your trickery.”

Suddenly there was the sound of a ringing com, and Neal recognized it as his com’s unique tone.

“Should we answer it?” Ivy asked uncertainly. 

“I will answer it.” Chase announced.

“We have your teammates.” Chase stated smugly. “Sorry, but they are now the captives of Team Red.”

Without another word, Neal heard the call end and seconds later the com began ringing again.

“Turn it off.” Julia suggested. “We have to wait for Carmen to see what she wants to do.”

Neal continued standing there outside the van for several minutes until he heard the sound of people approaching.

“How did you catch Neal?” Carmen asked in surprise.

“Through cunning.” Chase replied proudly.

Ivy rolled her eyes. “He surrendered.”

Carmen eyed Neal suspiciously, but the man was simply standing there bound and unable to see. Why would he surrender like that? This didn’t make sense, and she gave him a frown.

“Hello, Black Sheep.” Neal greeted in a tone that was a bit too chipper.

Neal was suddenly hit in the stomach so hard he doubled over and wheezed in pain. “Ugh...hello Le Chèvre." He guessed.

“Jean Paul!” Carmen said, aghast. “We don’t abuse our captives!”

“That was payback for the inhaler.” Le Chèvre replied, tone furious.

“Don’t hit him again.” Carmen said, her own tone growing annoyed. “Has anyone searched them yet?”

“For some reason the other one is in his underpants, and this one just had a wallet and cell phone on him.” Chase replied.

Carmen glanced at Dash who was still laying in the back of the van. “What happened to Dash? Is he hurt?”

“He has appendicitis and needs a doctor.” Neal replied impatiently. “You can’t keep him here. You need to let us go so we can get him help.”

“I told you to hush with your lies.” Chase scolded. “He’s just drunk and this one keeps making up stories in an attempt to trick us.”

Carmen glanced down at Dash and frowned. It did seem highly unlikely that at the same time they were captured, one of the villains suddenly developed appendicitis. She would keep an eye on this just in case, but for now she was going to assume it was a trick.

“Crackle has been calling Neal’s phone.” Julia informed her. “Player has blocked any way the phone can be traced, and I turned it off.”

Carmen gave a nod. “Good, let’s get these two inside and secured. We have some negotiating to do with Team Crackle.”

Neal suddenly felt himself being pulled along and he hoped he and Dash were going to be put in the same room so he could keep an eye on him. He felt the air slightly change as they entered a building, and he continued walking as he was tugged along. Suddenly there was no ground under his feet and he toppled forward, quickly being caught by strong arms.

“Oops, sorry, watch the stairs.” Chase warned him, steadying the villain before releasing him.

Not exactly trusting Chase to warn him of obstacles in his way, Neal very carefully took the stairs one at a time until he was certain he was once again on flat ground. He was then ushered across the room, and he felt hands on his shoulders.

“Sit.” Chase ordered.

Neal slowly lowered himself down to the floor and took a seat as he heard people shuffling around the room near him. He felt hands on his leg and then the sound of a shackle being locked around his ankle. A few seconds later he felt someone untie him, and he stayed still, knowing they were probably expecting him to attack.

“No funny business.” Chase warned him, pulling the bag from Neal’s head.

Neal glanced around at his surroundings and saw he was in a dusty basement of some sort. His gaze went to Dash and saw there was a ratty mattress on the floor, and Dash had been laid on it. There was a long and thick chain that looped through a support beam and he was shackled at one end of it and Dash at the other.

Carmen knelt down in front of him, her eyes searching as she tried to figure out what Neal was planning. 

“Don’t try anything.” she warned him. “There are security cameras that are going to be watching your every move. Right now you have a small amount of freedom down here, but if you try anything at all, you’ll find yourself handcuffed and bound.”

“Sounds kinky.” Neal teased, giving another glance around.

Carmen heaved a sigh. “What are you planning, Neal? We both know you could have taken down all three of them. Why did you let us take you?”

Neal glanced over at Dash and didn’t answer.

“Are you trying to leave V.I.L.E?” she questioned, making him glance back at her. “Was being captured an excuse to get us to rescue you from them?”

Neal raised a brow. “No offense, love, but I have no interest in joining you.”

Carmen didn’t look convinced. “Neal, it’s okay if you want to talk to us about this. We won’t force you to go back if you don’t want to. I just need you to be honest with me.”

Neal rolled his eyes at her. “I enjoy what I do.” he replied. “I’m not joining Team Sheep. I’m just worried about Dash, and wanted to make sure you do-gooders didn’t accidentally kill him.”

Carmen knew that Neal and Dash didn’t get along well, and didn’t believe this for an instant. “Well, I’ll give you some time to think about it.” she told him. “The chain is long enough to reach the bathroom if you need it.”

“Crackle was at the pharmacy to get medicine for Dash. He **needs** that medicine.” Neal told her. “Contact Crackle and at least arrange to have Dash’s medicine sent here.”

Carmen stared at Dash, but to her, it didn’t look like anything was wrong with him. He was deeply asleep, but if he **was** blackout drunk like Chase said, that would account for that. She would give Dash a few hours to wake up and then she’d check on him again.

“I’ll be back soon to have another chat.” Carmen said, turning to walk away.

“No, you can’t leave Dash like this.” Neal insisted. “He needs help. You were always such a compassionate kid, Black Sheep, you can’t leave him down here or he’ll **die**. You need to let me take him to the hospital.”

“It’s Carmen now.” she corrected. “I’ll be back to check on him soon, I promise. I’m going to contact Crackle.”

As Neal watched them leave the basement, he felt frustrated and glanced over at Dash. He crawled over to him, and laid his hand on his forehead, frowning at the heat he felt. He needed to cool Dash down, but he wasn’t sure what he could do. He glanced down at the shackle around his ankle and could tell just by looking at it that he wouldn’t be able to break it. He turned his attention to the nearby bathroom, and then gave a yank to the chain to give himself more slack. 

Standing to his feet, he approached the bathroom, glanced in and saw there was nothing he could use to escape with. There was a sink, toilet and shower, but nothing else besides a bar of soap and a pile of towels. Neal stared at the towels and then grabbed them and carried them to the sink. Turning on the cold water, he soaked them one by one and then carried the sopping mess back out and approached Dash.

“Okay, fancy, let’s see if we can get that fever under control.” he said softly.

He gently maneuvered Dash out of the blankets and then laid him on the bare concrete floor. The other man was already shivering and the second Neal placed a cold towel on Dash’s chest, he reacted by jerking away with a moan of complaint.

“Sorry.” Neal said, applying another one to Dash’s stomach. He covered Dash completely in the wet towels, and placed one on the burning forehead, hoping this would be enough to help.

Dash was shaking from the cold, and Neal sat down beside him, wishing he could get Team Red to listen to him. He kept reapplying a cold cloth to Dash’s forehead every few minutes, and he had no idea if this was even helping.

An hour later, he heard feet on the stairs and saw Carmen approaching with a bottle of water. She had already been informed by Player what Neal had been doing and she was beginning to wonder if Neal was actually telling the truth. Without a word, she knelt down beside Dash, and then placed a thermometer into his mouth. She waited a few moments and when it beeped, she pulled it out and looked at the number.

“103.9.” she stated.

“His fever’s going up.” Neal said worriedly. “He needs the hospital.”

“103 isn’t a dangerous fever.” Carmen replied. “He probably just drank too much or he might have the flu. There’s a really bad strain going around right now.”

Carmen reached out and placed two pills into Neal’s hand and then set the water beside Dash. “For the fever.” she said.

“He has appendicitis.” Neal said firmly. “Crackle will tell you the same. Call him.”

“I did.” Carmen replied. “He does claim that, but he also told me a doctor hasn’t even examined Dash yet. You have no idea for sure that this isn’t just the flu. Crackle’s refusing to surrender himself, and we cannot let you go until he’s willing to negotiate.”

“This is ridiculous!” Neal said in frustration. “Take Dash to a doctor!”

“If it was actually as serious as you say, Neal, Crackle would be more willing to work with us. I know this is just a trick, Neal, and I’m not going to fall for it. Crackle would be more worried if it was serious.”

“I wouldn’t count on that.” Neal muttered, knowing how messed up Crackle’s mind could be. “Please, love, just take him to be seen by someone.”

Carmen stared at Neal and couldn’t detect any hint of deception and she frowned. “If he’s still not any better by morning, I’ll arrange a doctor to see him.”

“He might not last that long!” Neal protested. “He needs the medicine Crackle has!”

“What medication is it?” she asked, still frowning uncertainly.

“I don’t bloody **know**.” Neal snapped. “Who cares? All I know is that he needs it!”

Carmen raised a brow, still not convinced this wasn’t some trick. Dash seemed to be sleeping pretty peacefully, and his fever was high, but not dangerously so. If it was appendicitis, wouldn’t he be in excruciating pain?

“Help him.” Neal begged. “You’re supposed to be the good guys, right? Take Dash to a doctor!”

“I’ll be back later with your supper.” she informed him. “I’ll check his temperature again then.”

“Can you at least leave the thermometer so I can keep an eye on him?”

Carmen immediately shook her head, knowing that if Neal smashed it, there were a dozen different things he could use the pieces for.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to Dash.” she promised. “I’ll be back soon.”

As Carmen left the basement, Neal felt even more frustrated. Crawling over to Dash, he gave him a shake, but Dash didn’t so much a twitch a finger.

“Dash.” Neal said loudly, shaking him even harder. “I need you to wake up for a second. **Dash**.”

When Dash still didn’t stir, Neal frowned and then pinched him on the neck where Crackle had earlier. Dash woke with a startled yelp, looked up at Neal hovering above him and lashed out on reflex, catching Neal in the nose with his knuckles.

“Ah, shite!” Neal complained, clapping a hand to his bloody nose.

Dash’s eyes were glazed and it was obvious he wasn’t going to remain awake for long. Ignoring the pain in his face, Neal reached over and gently helped Dash to partially sit up.

“Tylenol.” Neal told him, placing the pills into Dash’s hand.

Dash blinked tiredly down at the pills and Neal opened the water and held it out. Dash’s eyes slowly closed and Neal gave him another pinch and Dash once again woke with a start.

“Pills.” Neal repeated.

Dash stared at the Tylenol and then put them in his mouth reaching for the water. Dash drank a few mouthfuls of the cold water and then handed it back to Neal without a single word.

“Does your stomach still hurt?” Neal asked him in concern.

Dash said nothing, and Neal realized he wasn’t even really awake.

“Dash, can you hear me?” he asked worriedly.

“Bad at history.” Dash muttered. “Gonna fail the test. Too dumb to remember...”

Neal frowned. “Are you having anxiety dreams about **highschool**?!” he asked.

Dash stared at Neal but didn’t really seem to be seeing him at all. “No one cares about Canada.” he stated solemnly.

“Oooookay, love, I think you’d better lie back down.” Neal said, gently helping Dash back down. “Hopefully those pills will make you feel a little better.”

Dash was asleep again within seconds and Neal placed another damp cloth on his forehead. A while later Carmen brought down a sandwich and a can of soda and she checked Dash’s temperature again.

“I was told Dash was awake and speaking earlier?” she asked.

“Not really.” Neal replied, as he watched her stick the thermometer in Dash’s mouth. “He was delirious and not making sense.”

“It’s progress though.” Carmen replied. “It’s proof he’s getting a bit better.”

Neal felt his frustration grow. “He’s **not** getting better.” he insisted. “I was barely able to wake him, and he didn’t even recognize me!”

The thermometer beeped and Carmen pulled it out and glanced at it. “104.1.” she read.

“See! He’s **not** getting better!” Neal cried. “His fever is getting higher.”

“It’s barely higher.” Carmen replied. “I’ll send down some more Tylenol in a few minutes. Negotiations with Crackle have been going better, and we should come to an agreement shortly.”

“He can’t wait that long!” Neal said, raising his voice.

“Crackle is calling me back in twenty minutes.” she told him. “Dash will be fine for just a few minutes longer.”

Neal couldn’t believe she was being this blind. Was she so obsessed with getting Crackle to surrender that she really couldn’t see how sick Dash was?

“If Dash dies while in this basement, I will **never** forgive you.” Neal stated, turning worried eyes to the other man.

Carmen frowned at him, knowing Neal was genuinely worried about his teammate, but still not convinced he wasn’t exaggerating just to escape.

“More Tylenol in just a few minutes.” Carmen promised him, once again heading for the stairs.

Neal couldn’t believe this and turned his attention Dash, the other man so pale that he was practically blue. Neal exchanged another cloth on Dash’s face and forehead and then noticed something for the first time. Every time he switched cloths, a little bit of Dash’s makeup came off, and now that he looked closely, he could see that Dash was completely covered in freckles. Neal couldn’t stop a small chuckle of amusement at the sight of them. It was obvious Dash worked very hard to keep those freckles hidden, and he noted they made Dash look a lot younger than he was. He knew how incensed Dash would become knowing Neal thought the freckles were adorable, and he smiled wide.

“Okay, Spot, you need to concentrate on breaking this fever.” Neal informed him.

Dash of course didn’t answer, and around twenty minutes later, Julia came down the stairs, holding a white prescription bag. Neal let out a deep breath of relief as soon as he saw it.

“Crackle sent these for Dash.” she informed him, kneeling down beside them. “Carmen is speaking with him over the phone right now. It looks like you two could be here for the night.”

“What?” Neal demanded in horror. “You can’t be serious!”

Julia opened two pill bottles and then handed Neal four small pills.

“Please, look how sick he is!” Neal begged. “Just **look** at him!”

Julia adjusted her glasses as she stared at Neal, remembering how the villain had saved her life in Dallas. He didn’t seem particularly evil, but he **was** still a V.I.L.E operative.

“Help him.” Neal said. “Just get him to a hospital.”

Julia stared down at Dash, and then she frowned. Reaching out a hand, she removed the cloth on his forehead, the heat coming off him alarming.

“What was his temperature?” she asked.

“Last time Carmen checked it, it was at 104.1.” Neal replied.

Julia’s eyes widened in alarm. “I will speak to her.” she promised. “I agree with you that he needs to be seen by a doctor. I’ll try my best to get the others to see reason, I promise.”

Neal felt a small sense of relief. “Thank you.”

Julia glanced down at Neal’s uneaten lunch. “You should eat something.”

Neal let out a dismissive snort, placing another cold cloth on Dash’s head. 

“I’ll speak with Carmen.” Julia promised, heading up the stairs, leaving the pill bottle behind.

As soon as she was gone, Neal once again gave Dash a sharp pinch to wake him up. This time there was less of a reaction and it took a second pinch before he even opened his eyes, Neal helped Dash sit up and then held the pills to his mouth, not trusting the other man to do it himself. Dash obediently opened his mouth and Neal helped him sip at the bottle of water, Dash so weak that he could barely swallow.

Neal sat with Dash for the next hour or so, and to his relief, the fever finally seemed to be going down. Reading the directions on the bottles, he saw he had to give them to Dash once every 6 hours, and glanced down at his watch.

When Julia returned a while later, she was looking upset and was holding the thermometer. 

“I’m sorry, but no one would listen to me. They still all think it’s a trick.” she told him. “How is he doing?”

“I think he’s doing a bit better.” Neal told her with a frown. “Are they really going to just leave us down here to rot?”

“Carmen is determined to exchange the two of you for Crackle, and she’s unwilling to budge from this. Crackle is being equally as stubborn.”

Julia stuck the thermometer in Dash’s mouth as Neal frowned at her.

“I expected better of Carmen Sandiego.” Neal admitted in disappointment. “I never would have expected her to chance killing Dash just to get at Crackle.”

“She doesn’t think he’s seriously ill.” Julia said with a frown.

The thermometer beeped and Neal watched expectantly as she glanced at it. She then smiled at him. “101.2” she said.

Neal sagged in relief. “Thank god…”

“Do you want me to bring you anything?” she asked. “Anything to drink? Something to eat?”

Neal shook his head. “I’m fine, love. Thank you. I’ve been worried out of my mind the whole time you were gone because I didn't know if the medication was working.”

Julia glanced down at the thermometer in her hand and then offered him a smile. “Here.” she said holding it out. “This way you can keep an eye on him whenever you need to.”

Neal hesitantly accepted the thermometer. “Are you...are you **sure**?” he asked, glancing up at the security camera.

“I’m going to trust you not to misuse this.” she told him. “Please don’t make me regret it.”

As Julia left the basement, Neal felt like he could finally relax. Removing the damp towels from Dash, he pulled him up onto the mattress so he’d be a bit more comfortable and then covered him in a blanket. Taking a seat beside him, he knew they just had to wait for Crackle to get them out of here.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Dr. Vesalius, better known as Dr. Vess, stepped off the plane and rubbed at his eyes tiredly. He ignored his assistants who were unloading his bags from the plane and stared down at his com irritably. He always had more to do than he could ever hope to accomplish and it was a constant source of frustration for him. First he’d had to interrupt his vacation to remove a bullet from Otterman, and now he had to deal with Dash Haber. He was never going to finish his research at this rate.

Letting out a sigh at the dozens of missed calls and messages, he called Crackle back, hoping his patient hadn’t died.

“Vess.” Crackle greeted, answering on the first ring.

“Tell me Dash Haber isn’t dead.” Dr. Vess said, impatiently. “I’ve wasted valuable time getting here, and I’m not going to have clearance to fly for at least another three hours.”

“No, Dash is alive.” Crackle confirmed.

Dr. Vess let out a sigh, and glared at one of his assistants as they dropped one of his bags. “Oh, yes, break all my equipment!” he snarled. “Clearly that’s **exactly** what I need right now!”

“Er...sorry.” the assistant said, quickly grabbing the bag and loading it into the car.

“What happened?” Vess demanded into the com. “I’m assuming something happened since you called me so many times.”

Crackle hesitated. “There’s been a complication…”

Dr. Vess narrowed his eyes. “What kind of complication?”

“...Carmen Sandiego.”

Dr. Vess’ expression darkened. “Tell me where you are.” he ordered. “I’m on my way.”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Neal was awoken by the sound of moaning beside him and he glanced over at Dash, immediately seeing that he was clutching at his stomach in pain.

“Dash?” Neal questioned.

Dash was shaking uncontrollably and groaning in agony, but he didn’t seem to be awake. Reaching towards the other man, Neal was dismayed at the heat he felt, realizing the medications had stopped working. Looking down at his watch, he saw it wasn’t quite time for another dose, but he reached for the bottles anyway. Pulling Dash up against him, he poured the pills into his hand and then stuck the thermometer in Dash’s mouth.

His fears were confirmed when the temperature read at 104.4. He pinched and prodded at Dash, but this time he couldn’t wake him up, and so Neal carefully placed the pills into Dash’s mouth and then poured water into his mouth. To his relief, Dash instinctively swallowed, and so Neal continued sitting there with him, hoping his temperature would begin dropping. After twenty minutes, he tested the temperature and this time it came back as 104.6. Neal’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Hey!” Neal yelled up towards the ceiling. “Help!”

There was no reaction from upstairs and so Neal yelled even louder. “DASH’S FEVER IS GETTING WORSE! I NEED HELP DOWN HERE!”

He could now hear movement upstairs, but no one came down.

“HELP!” he bellowed again. “I KNOW YOU CAN BLOODY WELL HEAR ME! **HELP**!”

He waited and waited, but no one came. Neal couldn’t believe it when no one came to check on them, and he felt an anger so deep that he stood to his feet. They were letting Dash die, and he wasn’t going to allow it.

“**NO!** ” Neal screamed out in pure rage. “ **YOU WILL ** **NOT** ** LEAVE DASH TO DIE. YOU WILL GET YOUR SORRY ARSES DOWN HERE AND YOU WILL DAMN WELL TAKE HIM TO THE HOSPITAL! HELP HIM, YOU PATHETIC FUCKTARD OR I ** **SWEAR** ** I WILL MAKE IT MY LIFE’S MISSION TO TAKE YOU DOWN!**”

Neal yanked uselessly at the chain, feeling angrier and angrier by the minute.

“**DON’T YOU ** **DARE** ** PRETEND YOU CAN’T HEAR ME DOWN HERE! I HAVE A BIG FUCKING MOUTH AND I KNOW HOW LOUD I AM. HELP HIM, CARMEN SANDIEGO! HELP HIM ** **NOW****!**”

Neal yanked and yanked at the chain and began swearing furiously in Maori, knowing he was helpless to do anything. 

“**HELP HIM!**”

He kicked over the tray containing his untouched supper, and then threw the can of soda at the wall hard enough to burst it. He grabbed a hold of the support beam and began pulling at and shaking it, but it was secure he couldn’t even budge it.

It was clear no one was coming and so Neal dropped to his knees beside Dash and once again tested his temperature. 105.1. Dash’s brain was so hot now that it was going to start causing irreparable damaged if Dash wasn’t cooled down immediately. 

“**SOME HERO ** **YOU** ** TURNED OUT TO BE** !” Neal screamed up at the ceiling. “ **YOU’RE KILLING HIM! YOU’RE LETTING HIM DIE, CARMEN SANDIEGO!**”

Dash suddenly began gasping and when Neal turned to him, he saw Dash’s eyes had rolled up in his head as he was clearly about to have a seizure. Neal didn’t know what to do, and felt like he was having a panic attack and he glanced towards the bathroom, suddenly remembering the shower. If he could get Dash in the shower, he might be able to cool him down with the cold water. Neal stared down at the chain that they were both attached to, knowing only one of them could be in the bathroom at a time and he had no way to get Dash there.

Suddenly Dash let out a sharp yell, and then he was having a seizure. Neal knew what he had to do and steeled himself, knowing this was **really** going to suck. Sitting down on the ground, Neal grabbed a hold of his foot and then took an incredibly deep breath. He then gave it a sharp twist and let out a scream of pain as he dislocated his foot. Neal’s joints had always dislocated easily, and he had done this before to escape an unpleasant situation.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Neal’s foot was now much more flexible, and he slipped the shackle off and then reached over and grabbed Dash. Unable to walk because of his foot, he began dragging them both to the bathroom, Dash’s seizure finally coming to an end.

Neal dragged them both into the shower and then reached up to turn the cold water on. As the freezing cold water sprayed down on top of them, Dash let out a scream of agony, the icy water feeling like it was burning his skin. Dash struggled to get away from the cold water, but Neal wrapped his arms around him, forcing them both to remain under the powerful spray.

Dash kicked and struggled with all his might as he screamed, his mind delirious and not able to understand what was going on. The water was as cold as ice and as the minutes went by, Dash’s struggles slowly became less and less, instead turning into shivers. 

“H-hate you.” Dash muttered, his eyes squeezed closed.

Just those two words were enough to make Neal feel complete relief.

Pulling the thermometer out of his pocket, he stuck it in Dash’s mouth as the other man continued to shake from the cold. It beeped and Neal pulled it out and glanced at it. 102.7.

“Scared me, fancy.” Neal commented.

Dash didn’t answer, and Neal saw he’d once again lost consciousness.

It was then that Team Red stepped into the bathroom. Neal narrowed his eyes at Carmen but didn’t say a single word, not trusting himself quite yet. Carmen visibly winced at Neal’s hate-filled gaze, now realizing just how wrong she been about everything. She had a lot of apologies to make for this later.

“Take him.” she said to Shadowsan and El Topo.

Neal tightened his grip on Dash as they approached. “What are you doing?” he demanded. 

“We’re taking him to a doctor.” Carmen replied. “He’ll be fine, I promise.”

Neal glowered at her and she gave another wince. Shadowsan and El Topo wrestled to get Dash away from Neal and they left him sitting in the shower unable to get up to confront them. Dash’s shackle was removed, and then El Topo carried him out of the bathroom without a word.

“Wait!” Neal called after them. “I need to know he’s alright! Take me with you!”

“Sorry, Neal.” Carmen replied, following after the others.

Neal watched them go, still sitting under the cold spray of water, feeling furious but not able to do anything about it. Sagging in defeat he continued sitting there in silence until someone entered the bathroom. Shadowsan had returned, and without a word, he reached over turned off the water and then knelt down beside Neal. He carefully lifted Neal out of the shower, and then carried him back out into the basement. He set Neal down on the floor beside the mattress and then knelt beside him as he looked at Neal’s injured foot.

“You dislocated your foot.” he commented in surprise.

“You don’t say?” Neal responded grumpily.

“You’re not going to be walking on this for a while.” he commented.

“I know.” Neal answered. “My joints get dislocated all the time.”

Shadowsan placed a hand on his injured foot and Neal suddenly realized what the older man was about to do. He barely had time to brace himself as there was a loud snap, and then excruciating agony shot through his whole leg. He screamed for a solid five seconds before the pain began to lessen, and then he let out a groan of misery.

“Thanks for the warning…” Neal hissed out between clenched teeth. “Bedside manner of a champ.”

“You’re not going to be able to walk on that foot, and so I won’t put your shackle back on.” Shadowsan informed him. “Betray this trust and I’ll hogtie you. I’m going to be just upstairs, and so don’t try anything.”

Shadowsan didn’t bother waiting for a response and turned and left the basement, not even glancing back at him.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

His rented black car pulled up to the motel, and Dr. Vess could see Team Crackle waiting for him outside. Letting out a deep sigh, he put his com away and then got out of the car to greet them.

“Where is my patient?” he demanded impatiently, not even bothering to greet them. “Certainly you don’t expect me to examine him in this dirty little motel?”

Crackle grimaced and then scratched at his head, embarrassed he had to admit to failing his team.

“What?” Dr. Vess demanded, seeing the expression. 

“You know how I said there was a complication involving Carmen Sandiego?” Crackle said hesitantly.

Dr. Vess gave him a sharp nod. “...yes?”

“Well, she captured Dash while he was asleep…She has him hidden away somewhere and won’t let us have access to him.”

Dr. Vess’ eyes widened, and then he scowled. “Is she aware of his condition?”

Crackle nodded. “She wants to trade him in exchange for me.”

Dr. Vess looked Crackle up and down pointedly, clearly not impressed with what he saw. “Why?” he demanded.

Crackle ignored the jab, and continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “She’s not going to let us have access to him otherwise, and she’s unwilling to come to any other agreement.”

Dr. Vess was an** incredibly** busy man and he did **not** like having his time wasted. He narrowed his eyes, and then held out his hand.

“Call her and hand me the com.” he ordered.

Crackle did as he was told and called Neal’s number. As it began ringing through, he handed the com over to Dr. Vess whose annoyance seemed to radiate through the air.

“Gray, I already **told** you-” Carmen abruptly cut off at the sight of the doctor. “Dr. Vess?!”

“What is this I hear about you refusing to allow me access to my patient?” he demanded, his tone not to be reckoned with.

Carmen gaped at him for a moment. “Pardon?”

“I just left my **very** important research, flew ten hours on a plane to get here, and now I discover you have **stolen** my patient!”

“Er...doctor, I’m no longer with V.I.L.E... I captured Dash Haber because he is our **enemy**.”

“Does it **look** like I care about that?” Dr. Vess demanded, expression unamused. “The only thing that matters to **me** is treating my patient, and you **will** return him.”

“He’s not even that sick.” Carmen argued. “I’m not a cruel person, Dr. Vess, and I made sure his fever was down before we went to bed. He’s asleep right now, and getting better.”

Dr. Vess narrowed his eyes. “Are **you** a doctor?” he demanded, tone like ice. “Because **I** am, and I have been practicing for over ten years now. I diagnosed Dash Haber with appendicitis and there is **no** possible way he is ‘getting better’. The medications I prescribed would have given him temporary relief, but it wasn’t a cure. Mr. Haber needs to be seen immediately, and you **will** let me see my patient!”

Carmen was honestly not expecting a sudden lecture and simply stared at him.

“He is going to die very shortly if I don’t see him, and neither of us want that.”

Carmen realized she had made a **very** big mistake. Dr. Vess was an excellent doctor, and she knew how much he cared for all of his patients. Although impatient and a bit rude at times, she knew he had a good heart, and she doubted he would lie about something like this. 

Dr. Vess had treated all of her bumps and scrapes as a child, and she had adored him. He had kept rainbow bandaids and lollipops just for her, and she had nothing but good memories of him. He wasn’t an operative, he was just a doctor, and she knew he would **never** go against the Hippocratic Oath. He wouldn’t try to hurt them, and he wouldn’t try to fight. Dash really **was** seriously ill.

Carmen winced guiltily.That meant that she had left Dash Haber in the basement to suffer in pain all this time. The thought was enough to turn her stomach.

“We will bring him to meet you.” Carmen said to the surprise of the rest of her team.

They could suddenly hear Neal yelling from the basement, and Carmen paused to glance towards the basement door. 

Turning her attention back to the doctor she said. “Meet us in one hour at the warehouse on 9th street. Only **you** and no one else is allowed in the building. If Team Crackle is spotted or **anyone **besides you, Dash will immediately be moved somewhere else.”

Neal’s yelling became so loud they could clearly hear every word he was furiously yelling at them, and Dr. Vess’ expression turned foul.

“Neal the Eel is there?” he demanded.

Carmen nodded. “We captured them both at the same time.”

“Leave the eel behind when you bring Haber. Neal has a talent for distracting me, and I don’t need that when treating a patient. I will meet you in one hour, and for **your** sake, you’d better hope my patient is still alive.”

“Just you, doctor.” Carmen reminded him. “One hour, the main warehouse on 9th.”

As soon as she hung up, the rest of Team Red began to protest. 

“You can’t let a V.I.L.E doctor anywhere near Dash!” Le Chèvre said. “He was likely sent to rescue him.”

“Yeah, Carm, it's obviously a trap!”

“This doctor is probably going to attack us with a chemical weapon or something!” Chase said worriedly.

“He was always very rude to me when I visited him.” El Topo commented thoughtfully.

“I hate him.” Tigress commented. “He had the nerve to tell me to stop using my claws against other students during training! Ugh.”

“Guys, calm down.” Carmen said, giving them a frown. “We can trust Dr. Vess.”

“You don’t know that for sure.” Le Chèvre challenged.

“Look, I’ve known him for most of my life. V.I.L.E hired him because he’s one of the most talented surgeons on the planet, not because he’s evil. He doesn’t go on missions, he doesn’t smuggle, he just treats people who are injured. I know he’s grumpy and a bit rude, but I’ve seen the passion he takes in his work. He loves being a doctor, and he would never hurt anyone.”

“Hmm, I dunno Carm, it seems risky.”

Carmen turned to Shadowsan. “You know him, right? Tell them what he’s like.”

Shadowsan frowned. “He was a child genius who became a surgeon by the age of sixteen.”

“So he’s Doogie Howser?” Ivy demanded.

Shadowsan continued as if he didn’t hear. “V.I.L.E snatched him up without hesitation, knowing the great potential he had. Carmen is correct that’s he’s incredibly passionate about his work, and he’s invented many cures and pieces of medical equipment over the years. He is very unsociable and impatient, but I don’t believe he’s evil. I’ve never seen any evidence to suggest otherwise.”

“See?” Carmen responded.

Suddenly they heard the sound of Dash screaming and they turned their attention to the basement in alarm.

“Oh no!” Carmen gasped, hoping Dash’s appendix hadn’t just burst.

Carmen ran for the stairs and the others followed along behind her. Carmen practically flew down the basement stairs and then she froze at the sight of the empty basement. Staring around with wide eyes, she saw the one empty shackle and then the chain leading into the bathroom. She could hear water running, and so she headed for the bathroom, not quite sure what she’d find.

When Carmen stepped into the bathroom, she was met with the sight of Neal and Dash sitting on the floor of the showerstall, the water on full-blast and both men shivering. Neal looked up at her and his glare was so venomous that she was actually taken aback. Neal was always such a happy and friendly person that the expression just seemed wrong on his face, and Carmen found herself wincing guiltily. She immediately knew that Neal had dragged them into the shower to lower Dash’s fever. Now that she knew he’d been telling the truth the whole time, she felt absolutely wretched.

“Take him.” she said to Shadowsan and El Topo.

It pained her to see the distrust as Neal tightened his grip on Dash as they approached. “What are you doing?” he demanded, voice dripping in suspicion. 

“We’re taking him to a doctor.” Carmen replied, hoping to reassure him. “He’ll be fine, I promise.”

She watched as El Topo and Shadowsan had no choice but to force Dash away from Neal. Neal didn’t get up as she expected, and that’s when she noticed his twisted foot. He had broken his own foot to escape from the shackles. He had done this to save his teammate and Carmen felt such a wave of guilt that she knew she needed to leave to collect herself.

“Wait!” Neal called after them as Dash was carried from the room. “I need to know he’s alright! Take me with you!”

Another wave of guilt crashed over Carmen and she swallowed heavily. Dr. Vess didn’t want Neal there and so she had no choice but to leave him behind.

“Sorry, Neal.” Carmen replied sadly, following after the others.

As they crossed the basement, Carmen turned to Shadowsan. “I think Neal’s foot is broken.” she told him. “Can you stay and make sure he’s going to be alright?”

By Shadowsan’s expression, it was clear he didn’t want to, but he nodded and then headed back for the bathroom. Carmen followed the others to the van, and a few minutes later Shadowsan rejoined them and they were on their way to the warehouse.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Dr. Vess stared at the warehouse in disapproval, the building looking like it was about ready to fall down. He looked one way and then the other, but there was no sign of Team Red. He glanced down at his watch and saw he was a few minutes early, and let out an irritated sigh. Pulling out his com, he dialed Neal’s number and then waited. Carmen answered within a few rings, her expression looking oddly contrite.

“Hello, Dr. Vess. Shadowsan and Ivy and are on their way outside to bring you in.”

“I will need help carrying in my medical equipment, since I wasn’t allowed to bring any assistants with me.” he informed her, tone unamused. 

“Anything you bring in will have to be checked.” Carmen informed him.

“You will **not** contaminate my medical equipment!” Dr. Vess said firmly. “I will show you what I have, but you touch **nothing**, is this clear? It’s bad enough that you’re making me come to this dirty warehouse.”

Carmen knew this was fair, and she gave him a nod of acknowledgement. A door nearby opened and Dr. Vess disconnected the call as Shadowsan and Ivy approached.

“Grab some of the bags from the back.” he ordered, immediately taking charge. “And then take me to my patient. You’ve already wasted enough of my time.”

Shadowsan raised a brow at him, but said nothing as he opened the trunk of the car and pulled out two black medical bags. He glanced inside them, but saw nothing out of the ordinary and so he handed them to Ivy and reached for the next two. When he found nothing suspicious, he gave Dr. Vess a nod who took the last bag and closed the trunk.

Dr. Vess followed them into the warehouse, and he took in the sight of the dirt and grime that surrounded them angrily. He was led down a long hallway and to a room that had the rest of Team Red waiting for him. His gaze immediately went to Dash Haber who was laying on a metal table in nothing but his underpants. Even from this far away, Dr. Vess, could see Dash’s side was swollen and probably incredibly painful.

“How do you expect me to work like this?” he demanded, turning his glare on Carmen. “Maybe **you’re** used to living in filth like this, but I need this area **sterile**. If my patient doesn’t end up with an infection, it’ll be a miracle!”

Muttering to himself, Dr. Vess set down his bag and then began removing his jacket. Setting it down on a nearby chair, he approached Dash and laid a hand on his lower right abdomen. Dash immediately moaned in agony, and Dr. Vess gently felt around the area, knowing that he was correct and this was almost certainly appendicitis. Raising a hand to Dash’s face, he could feel the high fever, and checked Dash’s eyes with a frown.

“Why is my patient’s hair wet?” he demanded.

“Neal had him in a cold shower right before we left.” Carmen replied. “I think Dash’s fever was out of control again.”

Dr. Vess frowned. “I think that idiot might have actually saved Dash’s life...” he stated thoughtfully. 

Carmen’s eyes widened, but said nothing as the doctor glanced around the area he had to work in.

“Alright, I need all of you to help me disinfect this area. Mr. Haber requires surgery as soon as possible.” Dr. Vess said, opening one of his medical bags. He pulled out a massive jug of disinfectant, sterile cloths and set them on one of the other tables. When no one moved, he narrowed his eyes. “Well?”

Carmen surged forward to help, and within seconds the others were reaching for cloths as well. Tying his hair back with an elastic, Dr. Vess slipped on a surgical cap and then reached into a different bag. Dr. Vess began preparing himself for surgery, and slipped on hospital scrubs, gloves, and facemask, and then began disinfecting himself the best he could given the situation. 

Team Red was busy thoroughly cleaning the whole room, and when they were finished, Dr. Vess knew this was as good as it was going to get. Approaching his patient, he looked down at him with a frown, trying to figure out his best course of action.

“Since you people clearly have no idea what you’re doing, I’m going to **explain** it to you. I need someone experienced to assist me during this surgery.”

“I’ll do it.” Carmen immediately volunteered. 

Dr. Vess gave her a withering look. “I think **not**.” he replied, turning his gaze to Shadowsan. “I trust you’ve seen your fair share of injuries over the years?”

Shadowsan nodded.

“Get in scrubs and disinfect yourself.” the doctor ordered. “I’m trusting you to help me.”

Shadowsan did as he was told, and while he was dressing, Dr. Vess pulled a pair of scissors out of his bag and then approached Dash. As he cut the underwear off his patient, the four girls in the room averted their gazes, and slowly moved further away. Dr. Vess grabbed the bottle of disinfectant and poured it over Dash, having no idea what the villain may have come in contact with while in captivity. He gently but thoroughly scrubbed him clean, and then reached for one of the other bags.

Dr. Vess then began covering Dash in sterile sheets, leaving only the lower right abdomen uncovered. Pulling out a I.V stand and assembling it, he attached a bag of saline to one of the hooks and then attached it to a long and thin needle. Once more the doctor disinfected his hands and then the needle, and then he approached and took one of Dash’s arms. Inserting the needle into the arm, he taped it in place, and then turned to Shadowsan.

“Are you ready?” he demanded.

Shadowsan nodded and approached.

“I’ll need you to pass me what I need, and flush the wound when I ask for it.” Dr. Vess explained, reaching for a bottle of anesthetic. “Normally this procedure would take about an hour, but without a medical team, I’ll have to do everything myself. It shouldn’t take longer than two hours at the most unless I run into complications.”

Dr. Vess carefully measured out an amount of anesthetic and then injected it into the IV line. Disinfecting his hands one last time, he then held out his hand towards Shadowsan.

“Scalpel.”

Shadowsan had arranged all the equipment around him and immediately reached for a scalpel and passed it over. As he made the first cut, most of Team Red had to look away, instead staring around the room or at the floor. 

Dr. Vess worked slowly and carefully, knowing how critical it was that he not jostle Dash during the surgery. When he pulled a section of intestine out through the incision, El Topo looked like he was going to be sick, and quickly fled far away from the operation table.

As Dr. Vess carefully tied off the appendix so he could begin removal, it suddenly burst in his hand, and he quickly finished tying it off, glad it happened in his hand and not in the abdomen. He realized if he had’ve been just minutes later, Dash likely wouldn’t have survived this procedure, and he shot a glare in Carmen’s direction.

Once he was certain he had the bleeding under control, he began very **very** slowly removing what remained of the appendix. Focusing completely on the task at hand, Dr. Vess fell into what he called his ‘zone’ and at that moment nothing else mattered except for the surgery. His cuts were steady and sure, and when he finally disposed of the appendix, he knew the surgery had gone extremely well. He sutured the wall of the intestine, disinfected the area, and then carefully pushed the intestine back where it was supposed to be.

Knowing that Dash Haber likely wouldn’t appreciate a three inch long scar on his abdomen, Dr. Vess made the tiniest stitches possible, knowing that as long as the wound didn’t get infected it was unlikely to leave a visible scar. When he was finally done, he once again disinfected the wound and then applied cream over it to help protect it from contaminants. After he applied bandages and a wrap, he turned to the rest of the room.

“The surgery was successful.” he informed them, and then glared at Carmen. “With no thanks to **you**. If we’d waited just an hour longer, Mr. Haber would likely be dead right now. His appendix burst while I was removing it, and you’re damn lucky I’m a good doctor, or this could have ended much differently.”

Carmen’s stomach twisted in guilt, upset she had disappointed the doctor in this way. She’d always looked up to him, and it pained her to know that he thought she was so cruel and foolish. She would never intentionally hurt someone, but her actions showed otherwise and so she couldn’t even defend herself.

Carmen watched as Dr. Vess gathered up all of his medical equipment, and then he turned to the others. “Someone will have to help carry these bags.” he ordered.

To everyone’s surprise, he then turned to Dash and scooped him into his arms.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, bub?” Ivy demanded, striding forward threateningly.

Dr. Vess didn’t seem concerned, only annoyed. “Look, this may be difficult for you to grasp, Boston-bean, but Dash Haber still requires medical attention. It will be **weeks** before he’s fully recovered.”

“We can’t let him take him...can we?” El Topo asked uncertainly.

“He’s **our** prisoner!” Tigress snarled.

“Can you guarantee he’s going to remain in a sterile environment where he’ll have access to a doctor to monitor him?” Dr. Vess demanded.

Carmen slowly shook her head.

“Can you guarantee that Mr. Haber’s medications will be properly adjusted depending how he reacts to the surgery?”

Again Carmen shook her head.

“That’s what I **thought**. Dash Haber will be coming with me, and perhaps he’ll get to survive this whole ordeal.”

Carmen looked over at Shadowsan who was frowning, but he didn’t protest.

“You can’t take him!” Chase said, unable to believe the nerve. “We’re not going to just allow a V.I.L.E operative to walk free!”

Carmen placed a calming hand on his arm. “Guys, it doesn’t look like we have a choice. Dash still needs a doctor, and that’s something we can’t provide. We **have** to let him go.”

Tigress looked furious and she crossed her arms. “Figures.” she muttered.

“Well, at least we still have Neal?” El Topo pointed out.

“Ugh, he’s so disgusting though.” Tigress complained. “At least Dash is pretty to look at.”

“Bring my bags if you think you can manage it.” Dr. Vess ordered, clearly tired of dealing with this and walking towards the door.

Adjusting Dash slightly in his arms as he walked, Dr. Vess left the room and didn’t even glance back at them. Shadowsan followed along after him, not saying a word, simply a disapproving presence behind him. As Team Red helped load his bags into the trunk of the car, Carmen opened the door so Dr. Vess could lay Dash on the back seat. Once he had Dash safely positioned, he closed the door and then headed for the driver’s door.

Carmen caught him by the sleeve and he paused and then stared down at her in annoyance.

“Don’t you think you’ve wasted enough of my time?” he demanded.

“Um, Dr. Vess? I just wanted to apologize.” Carmen told him sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to put someone’s life in danger and I didn’t mean to delay Dash getting medical treatment. I know you must be so disappointed in me, and I’m sorry for everything.”

Dr. Vess stared down at her in silence for a moment, and then replied. “I’ve been your doctor for almost your entire life, Black Sheep, and I honestly expected you to be smarter than this.” 

Without another word he got into the car and closed the door. Carmen felt like she’d been slapped, and simply watched him drive off with a frown. She hadn’t just disappointed him, she’d made him furious with her. Carmen clenched her fists, feeling angry at herself for the way she handled things. She’d ignored everyone else, too focused on getting Crackle, and because of that she nearly caused someone to lose their life.

Carmen knew Dr. Vess had always been fond of her, and she vividly remembered the hugs she’d given him as a child. He wasn’t a very social person, but he’d always been kind to her, and he’s always done his best to make sure her visits to his office were as fun as possible.

Turning to the rest of her team, she heaved a sigh. “Let’s get back so we can check on Neal.”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Crackle heard a car pull up in front of their motel room, and shot to his feet in an instant. He ran for the door, and when he threw it open, he was met with the sight of Dr. Vess getting out of his car.

“How is he? How is Dash?” Crackle demanded.

“The operation was a success, and he should be fine.” the doctor replied, walking around to the side of the car. When he opened the car door, Crackle definitely wasn’t expecting to see Dash laying on the backseat.

“You got him back?!” he asked in awe.

“Don’t say I never did anything for you.” Dr. Vess replied. “I didn’t trust Team Red enough to leave him in their care. They probably would have let his incision site get infected. I trust you will be more careful with him?”

“Nothing will happen to him.” Crackle vowed.

“Bring him inside and I will explain how to properly care for him.” Vess ordered. “You are to follow my directions **exactly**, am I clear?”

Crackle very gently lifted Dash into his arms, not even bothered by the fact Dash was still completely naked.

“We will do exactly as ordered.” Crackle promised, leading him to their room. “Thank you for getting him back.”

“It is my job.” Dr. Vess replied in resignation.

Crackle then glanced around. “Where’s Neal?”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**Next update will hopefully within a week.**

**All credit for these gorgeous pics goes to Violetfic! She illustrated this whole chapter herself, and deserves a round of applause!**

**Dr. Vesalius is owned by Violetfic, and I am using him with her permission.**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**


	15. Yuri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone!
> 
> Once again I prove I am incapable of writing anything short. lol I hope you enjoy the chapter, because a LOT of stuff is about to start happening. (evil cackling)
> 
> If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 15**

**Yuri**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The car stopped beside them, and when Zack looked up, he saw a pretty woman with blond hair staring at them with wide and frantic eyes.

“Yuri!” she called out desperately, “Yuri Volkov!”

Slowly Mime Bomb turned to face her.

“Yuri?” Zack repeated in surprise, “Your real name is Yuri?”

Mime Bomb made no move to confirm or deny it, simply staring at his sister.

[[It **is** you, isn’t it?]] Alys asked in Welsh, holding up the missing poster. “Yuri.”

Mime Bomb stared at her with an alarmed gaze, suddenly feeling trapped. Alys now knew who he was…

He began to shake, on the verge of another panic attack. Alys knew the brother she’d been searching for was a freak, and she was going to reject him. She already thought he was a creep and a pervert, and the fact he was dressed as a mime didn’t help this any. Mime Bomb then raised a hand to his face realizing all of his makeup had washed off. Alys was staring straight at him, and Mime Bomb felt completely exposed. Without even realizing it, he stepped behind Zack, clutching tightly to his jersey.

Zack glanced between Alys and Mime Bomb and then frowned. “Alys?” Zack guessed.

Alys only had eyes for Mime Bomb, and it hurt when she saw he was clearly afraid of her as he hid behind the other boy.

“Yuri…” she said again, her tone softening. [[Why didn’t you tell me who you were?]]

Mime Bomb wasn’t even looking at her, his forehead resting against Zack’s back as he squeezed his eyes closed.

Zack glanced over his shoulder at Mime Bomb, not understanding his reaction. “Hey, buddy, it’s okay, you don’t have to be so nervous. Let’s go talk to her.”

Mime Bomb shook his head, and Alys felt like a knife had pierced her heart.

“Yuri, please!” she begged, switching to English. “I’m sorry I hit you, I didn’t know who you were! I’m so sorry!”

Zack stared at her in surprise, his gaze going to the bruises on Mime Bomb’s face. “**You’re** the one who beat him up?!” he asked, feeling dumbfounded, “Why?”

Alys gave him an ashamed look. “...I thought he was stalking me for some sort of prank. He kept showing up everywhere I went dressed as a clown, and I lost my temper…”

Zack glanced over his shoulder at Mime Bomb again. “Come on, let’s listen to what she has to say,” he said, “It was a misunderstanding. You don’t have to be afraid.”

“Please just talk to me!” Alys begged, “You **are** Yuri, aren’t you? You’re my brother?”

Mime Bomb shook his head no, still not looking up. Alys gave him a devastated look, and Zack was completely confused.

“I don’t know why he’s lying,” Zack told Alys, “He’s your brother and we came all the way from the United States to meet you. He’s being a little bit shy though…”

“Please, Yuri,” Alys begged, “Please just look at me.”

Mime Bomb started to back away, but Zack was quick to grab a hold of him. “Oh, no you don’t!” he scolded, “We came all this way, and I don’t understand why you’re acting like this! Go see your sister!”

Mime Bomb seemed to shrink in on himself, and Zack noticed the tears trickling down the other boy’s cheeks. Frowning, he turned to Alys.

“Just give us a minute. I need to find out what’s going on.”

Zack ushered Mime Bomb out of hearing range, and then gave him a look of concern. “What’s wrong? You need to tell me, otherwise I can’t help you.”

Mime Bomb had no idea how to explain this so Zack would understand and so he shook his head, covering his face with his hands.

“What happened?” Zack demanded, “Don’t you want to meet your sister?”

Mime Bomb shook his head no, and Zack was truly stunned.

“What? **Seriously**?” he asked, “Why not?”

Mime Bomb simply stood there still covering his face.

“Do you have any idea how much you’re going to hurt Alys if you do this?” Zack said.

Mime Bomb shook his head.

“No.” Zack disagreed. “You **will** hurt her, and frankly this is an **incredibly** selfish thing to do. She’s been looking for you for fifteen years and now you’re going to reject her? This is going to be devastating for her.”

Mime Bomb peeked through his fingers at Zack, who was frowning angrily at him. Mime Bomb gave another shake to his head, and then pointed to his shirt, then his hat and then finally his face. Zack remembered this pantomime from earlier and frowned.

“You’re still worried she’s going to reject you?” he guessed.

Mime Bomb stomped a foot in frustration and pointed over at Alys and then mimed punching himself in the face.

“She’s already rejected you?” Zack asked, not sure he’d understood all that.

Mime Bomb nodded, and then again covered his face with his hands, trying to pull away. Zack had no idea what had happened earlier, but knew there was no way Mime Bomb was right, and he reached out and grabbed Mime Bomb before he could flee. 

Zack took one of Mime Bomb’s hands, and shoved the umbrella into it. “Don’t move from this spot, or I swear I’m gonna smack you upside the head.” he ordered, not meaning it at all. “I’m going to speak with Alys about this, and find out what’s going on.”

Mime Bomb frantically shook his head, but Zack couldn’t be swayed. “No, Mime Bomb, we’re dealing with this right now whether you want to or not. Stay here.”

Zack approached the car, and Alys was clearly getting more and more distressed.

“He doesn’t want to meet me,” she guessed as soon as Zack neared, “He’s frightened of me, isn’t he?”

“He thinks you’ve rejected him.” Zack said bluntly.

Alys’ eyes widened. “What? But we haven’t even spoken yet!”

“Look, I’m going to be honest here. He has a lot of issues that aren’t even **close** to being resolved. He’s not going to be able to handle it if you reject him just because he’s not perfect. Tell me now if you’re going to reject him, so I can try to do damage control before this totally destroys him.”

Alys was aghast. “I’m not going to reject him no matter what!” she said, feeling insulted, “He’s my brother!”

“He’s **my** brother too and I’m going to protect him the best I can.”

Alys stared at Zack in confusion. “I’m sorry, he’s your **what**?”

“Well, I’m his **adopted** brother,“ Zack amended.

Alys gave Zack a slow but confused nod. “What sort of issues does he have?” she asked.

“Well, he’s completely mute,” Zack told her. “He speaks through sign language.”

“What happened?” Alys asked in concern. “Why can’t he speak?”

Zack gave her a shrug. “I don’t know, and he doesn’t like talking about it. He’s been seeing a therapist about it, but it seems to be a sore subject for him.”

“I’ll learn sign language!” Alys vowed, “I don’t care if he doesn’t speak; he’s my brother!”

“You saw him in his mime makeup?” Zack questioned.

Alys nodded.

“Well, that wasn’t a one-time thing. He dresses as a mime 24/7.”

Alys glanced over at Mime Bomb in surprise. “What? Why?”

Zack looked a bit troubled. “I don’t really know for sure, but I think he uses the makeup as a way to hide himself. He’s been working on this issue as well, and he has been improving, but being without his makeup makes him extremely uncomfortable.”

Alys didn’t understand and she glanced over at Mime Bomb, who was staring down at the ground, carefully avoiding all eye contact. She felt a pang of sadness at the uncertainty she saw, knowing he must have been put through something terrible to end up like this.

“Is this why he doesn’t want to come over?” she asked, “Because I can see his face?”

“That probably isn’t helping matters, but I think he’s mostly worried you’re going to reject him because of the whole mime thing.”

“When we were children he spent a whole month dressed as a tiger, and the next month dressed as a knight, and the month after that a princess. Why in **hell** would he think I would care about this? He’s always loved dressing up, the same as our mother did. He’s always been just like her.”

“He has never told me his name,” Zack said a bit sadly, “He goes by the alias Mime Bomb. He’s refused to talk about his past at all, and gets extremely upset if you try to press him on it. Until you said it, I had no idea his name was Yuri.”

“So you have no idea where he’s been this whole time?”

Zack silently shook his head. “We did some research on him and discovered he attended a private school under a fake name, but before that we haven’t been able to find anything.”

Alys stared at Mime Bomb sadly. “Why hadn’t he looked for me sooner?” she asked, “He’s been gone for fifteen years!”

Zack wiped the rain out of his face, and hesitated.

“What?” Alys demanded, “What is it?”

“He...um...he blames himself for the car accident that killed your mother…”

“**What**?!” Alys shrieked, causing Mime Bomb to glance over at them.

“He thought that you hated him all this time, and he’s still worried you’re going to reject him. I’ve told him he’s not responsible, but I’m not sure he really believes it. I need you to swear you’re not going to reject him no matter what. He’s a mime, he doesn’t speak, he has PTSD, and he may or may not be gay. Promise me you’re not going to hurt him. **Promise** me.” 

“I promise,” Alys said as she wiped a few tears out of her eyes. “Bring him to me. **Please**…”

Zack gave her a nod, and turned to look over at Mime Bomb. “Mime Bomb, please come here!” he called over.

Mime Bomb shifted a bit nervously, but didn’t move.

“Mime Bomb, she wants to see you, come over!” Zack ordered, wiping more of the rain out of his face.

Mime Bomb glanced around, and then backed up a step. 

“Yuri!” Alys called out desperately, “**Please**!”

Mime Bomb stared at the distress on his sister’s face, and then hung his head, and very slowly began approaching the car. Alys reached out a hand towards him, and while keeping his eyes firmly on the ground, he took her hand in his. He definitely wasn’t expecting to suddenly be yanked forward, and he found himself pulled halfway through the window of the car into a bone-crushing hug, the umbrella falling into the mud forgotten. He squirmed a bit, and she only tightened her grip on him, and slowly Mime Bomb began relaxing into the hug.

“Yuri,” Alys said, her tone agonized, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Years and years I’ve been looking but I never once gave up. I’ve missed you **so** much! Now give your sister a _ cwtch _.”

When she finally relaxed her hold on him a bit, she leaned back so she could get a better look at him. She reached up and gently ran her fingers across the bruises on his face, and gave him an apologetic look.

“I’m so sorry, _ annwyl _,” she whispered, “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have assumed the worst about you.”

She stared into his face and she knew for certain this was her brother. He was certainly older, but he still looked pretty much the same, right down to the freckles, and she smiled at him, wiping the tears from his eyes. Her sweet and sensitive little brother was alive and that’s all that mattered to her.

“Forgive me,” she whispered again, pulling him back into the hug, “You’re home, you’re finally home.”

Mime Bomb closed his eyes. Home… Slowly, and somewhat cautiously, he reached out his arms and returned the hug, not realizing how much he had missed her until that moment. Alys could feel how he was shivering from the cold, and she pulled back, brushing his wet hair out of his face with her fingers.

“Come on you two. Get in out of the rain, and I’ll take you back to the cottage so we can get warm and talk.”

Mime Bomb reluctantly released her, and Zack gave him a hard clap on the back. “Come on, buddy,” he invited, opening the back door of the car. “Let’s go get warm.”

Mime Bomb gave a nod and crawled into the car, feeling such a deep sense of happiness, that for the first time in years, he forgot everything bad for just a short time.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Neal stared at Shadowsan as the other man left the basement, and then sat there on the floor shivering and still soaking wet. He remained there for a few minutes, and then decided he honestly didn’t care what Team Red said, and he wasn’t just going to sit by and do nothing. Gripping the support beam beside him, Neal pulled himself to his feet, knowing that there was one thing Shadowsan hadn’t anticipated. He stepped down on his injured foot, and ignored the agony that shot up and down his leg. Neal had an extremely high pain tolerance, and was used to the pain of a dislocated limb.

Walking across the basement, he began up the stairs, wincing but not stopping. Player, who was watching the security cameras, stared in complete surprise as the villain walked on his leg like he wasn’t even injured. The pain should have been excruciating, and he couldn’t believe it when Neal began going up the stairs.

Team Red had all left with the assumption Neal couldn’t walk, and Player realized he was going to have to put the entire base into lockdown. Typing on his computer as fast as he could, Player initiated lockdown and an alarm began to sound within the base and all doors and windows began to lock themselves automatically. Neal was almost to the top of the stairs, saw what was happening, and stuck his arm out to stop the basement door from closing. Not expecting it to close with the force it did, he let out a yelp of surprise.

“Ow, ow, shite!” Neal complained, yanking uselessly at his jammed arm.

Player unmuted himself and then tried to deepen his voice. “Return to the basement at once!” he ordered, “You are a prisoner, and there will be consequences if you don’t obey!”

Neal glanced around in confusion and then his gaze settled on the nearby speaker.

“Who’re you?” Neal asked, curiously, “How old are you? You sound like a kid! I didn’t know Team Red had a little girl working with them.” 

“I’m not a girl!” Player cried out in outrage, forgetting he was trying to deepen his voice. “I’m a boy!”

Neal gave another tug to his arm. “Whatever you say, love.”

Player frowned at his computer screens, and crossed his arms. “You have to go back to the basement, **now**!” he ordered.

“Can’t,” Neal responded.

“And why is that?” Player demanded, “Shadowsan is just in the other room, and he’s going to be here any moment.”

Neal stared at the camera and tipped his chin in the direction of his arm. “My arm is stuck,” he replied.

“Pull on it,” Player responded with a frown.

“The door is closed too tightly,” Neal said with a shrug, “This is actually **incredibly** painful and I think it’s breaking my arm.”

Player frowned skeptically and then adjusted a couple cameras so he could see better and sure enough, he could see the villain’s arm was jammed into the door.

“Why did you stick your arm in the way?” Player asked incredulously, “That could have cut off your arm for all you knew!”

“Didn’t really think this through,” Neal admitted, “Can you open the door? This kinda hurts...a lot.”

“I’m not opening the door,” Player said, trying to figure out what to do.

Muting himself for a moment, he tried to contact Carmen but all he got was static. Tracing all the Team Red coms, he saw they were all offline except for Zack and Mime Bomb who were in Wales. Realizing the old warehouse they were in must be blocking the signal, he frowned knowing he was on his own until they returned.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow,” Neal complained.

Player had no idea how long everyone was going to be gone for and knew he couldn’t just leave Neal with his arm jammed in a door. He unmuted himself and then let out a deep sigh of exasperation.

“Fine, I will open the door for just a moment so you can get your arm out, but then you have to go back into the basement. It will unlock for only three seconds which will give you enough time to get your arm out.”

“‘Kay,” Neal agreed.

Player typed for a moment and then disabled the lock on the basement door only. “Alright get ready,” Player instructed him, “Three seconds starting...**now**!”

To Player’s surprise, Neal threw his shoulder to the door and slipped through into the living room just fast enough to get in before the door once again slammed closed.

“Hey!” Player cried out in outrage.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Neal said dismissively, glancing around the living room. “I lied.”

“I told you I’m not a girl!” Player said, still outraged, “Go back to the basement!”

“Not gonna happen,” Neal responded, wondering why Team Red hadn’t swarmed him yet. Had they actually left him by himself?!

He could see the windows were shuttered with some sort of metal sheet, and he assumed it was some part of the lockdown. He limped his way across the room and then began searching for a way out. Every door he came across couldn’t be opened, and he knew picking the locks wouldn’t help in this circumstance. His leg was killing him, but he continued limping through the warehouse, knowing he had to check every possible exit.

“I really don’t think you should be walking on that foot,” Player said, a bit of concern creeping into his voice, “I looked it up, and you should be keeping that leg elevated for at least a week with no walking.”

“Interesting,” Neal answered dismissively, finding himself in the kitchen.

Neal’s shoulders sagged in defeat, now knowing there was nowhere for him to go. He was still trapped. Leaning heavily against the counter, he took a glass from the cupboard and then turned on the tap so he could get some water. As he sipped at the water, he stared around himself, having no idea what to do. He was freezing cold and his soaked clothes were sticking to him uncomfortably. He didn’t have spare clothes to get changed into, and he had no idea when Team Red would be returning. Deciding to just make himself at home while he waited, he began removing his wet shirt as he kicked off his boots.

“Uh...Neal, what are you doing?” Player asked as the villain dropped the wet shirt to the floor.

“My clothes are wet and I’m cold,” Neal responded with a shrug as he began unbuckling his pants.

Player stared at the screen in horror. “What are you doing?!” he cried out, his voice rising an octave, “Stop that!”

Neal dropped the pants to the floor with a splat. “I thought you said you weren’t a girl?”

“I’m not!” Player snapped angrily, “But that doesn’t mean I want to see you naked!”

“Then stop looking,” Neal answered with a shrug, dropping his boxers to the pile of wet clothes.

“Oh, geez.” Player complained, covering part of the screen with his hand. “Please stop.”

“No one’s making you look,” Neal said, peeling off his wet socks and tossing them aside.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight!” Player yelled, his face burning in embarrassment, “You’re our prisoner!”

Neal gave him a shrug and then stepped over to the fridge and opened it. Staring into the freezer section, he pulled out a box and held it up towards the camera.

“I’m taking these pizza pops,” Neal informed him.

“Hey, you can’t just steal our things!” Player protested, “Go back to the basement where you’re supposed to be! I’ve already contacted the team and they’ll be here any second!”

Neal stared at the box and then a look of disgust crossed his face. “Ugh, nevermind, there’s vegetables in these. Who buys vegetarian pizza pops?! That’s just obscene.”

“Obscene? **Obscene** ?!” Player screeched, “You’re walking around our base **naked**!”

Neal tossed the pizza pops back in the freezer and then turned his attention to the fridge. Picking up a styrofoam container he opened it and then nodded in approval.

“Leftover Chinese, nice.”

He gave it a sniff to make sure it wasn’t old and then opened a nearby drawer to look for a fork. Player couldn’t believe this, and felt frustrated that the villain was just making himself at home like this. As Neal leaned against the counter and began eating, Player let out another huff of frustration.

“They’re going to be mad about this!” he warned the villain, “I’m going to tell them everything you do! Go back to the basement now, and no one has to know about this.”

Neal took a bite of an eggroll, and didn’t look worried.

“Hey!” Player protested, “Are you ignoring me?!”

Neal took another bite. “Yep.”

Player let out a sigh of resignation, knowing there was absolutely nothing he could do about this situation. “Can you at least put your pants back on?”

“Nope.”

Player sighed again. “Fine, then I’m putting a sticky note on my screen so I don’t have to see anything I don’t want to.”

“A sticky note is a bit small, love, better use a piece of loose leaf instead.”

Player rolled his eyes and stuck a sticky note on the computer screen. “I don’t get paid enough for this.” he grumbled to himself.

There hadn’t been much Chinese left and so Neal found he was still hungry when it was gone. Putting the empty container back in the fridge, he then began opening cupboards, looking for something interesting. A box of triple butter popcorn caught his eye, and he grabbed a package and began removing the plastic.

“If you were this hungry, they would have fed you when they got back,” Player pointed out.

Neal tossed the package into the microwave and then pressed the popcorn button. “I don’t suppose you know how Dash is doing?” he asked.

Player’s tone softened. “No, I’m sorry I don’t.”

“Did they at least take him to a real hospital?”

“They were meeting with some Dr. Vess guy,” Player answered.

Neal instantly felt completely relieved, knowing Dr. Vess was better than any doctor a local hospital would have. Dash was in good hands, and Neal knew he didn’t have to worry.

The microwave beeped and Neal opened it and pulled out the bag of popcorn, wincing as he burned his fingers. Dropping it onto the counter, he then began searching for a bowl.

“Bottom cupboard to your right,” Player told him in resignation.

“Thanks, Tiny Tim,” Neal answered, finding a large plastic bowl.

“My name’s not Tim,” Player said with a frown.

Neal didn’t answer, and emptied the popcorn into the bowl. Without another word, he picked up the bowl, grabbed a Pepsi out of the fridge, and then began limping his way out of the kitchen.

“Neal, I really don’t think you should be walking on that foot.”

“Probably not,” Neal agreed, making his way towards the living room.

His entire leg was throbbing in pain, and he knew he’d overdone it. Once in the living room, he plopped himself down on the couch and glanced down at his foot. There was black bruising that spread around his entire ankle and part of the way up his leg. His leg and ankle were swollen, and Neal was glad to be off it.

“Does this place have cable?” Neal asked, reaching for the tv remote.

“The internet has been blocked,” Player informed him. “You won’t be able to contact the outside world, but yes there is cable.”

Neal turned on the tv and then leaned back, placing the bowl of popcorn on his lap. The television was absolutely enormous, and he smirked, knowing Team Red weren’t above using some of the stolen money on luxuries. Flipping through stations until he found sports, he left the channel on rugby, and then gave a stretch.

“Hey, Tiny, who’s your favourite Team?” he asked.

“I’m not really a sport’s person,” Player responded, trying for the tenth time to reach Team Red.

Tossing a piece of popcorn into his mouth, Neal stared intently at the screen as he realized New Zealand was playing. “You should watch it,” he suggested, “Rugby’s the best sport.”

“I never understood how it’s fun to watch sports,” Player commented, “I can sorta understand why it’s fun to **play** sports, but not just watching someone else do it.”

Neal gave him a shrug. “I could never play it because of my condition, my joints dislocate too easily. I’ve always just watched.”

“Do you have Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome?” Player questioned, “I’ve been wondering about this for a while now.”

Neal paused, handful of popcorn halfway to his mouth. “Well, now **this** is unexpected!” he said with a laugh, “I think you’re the first person I haven’t had to explain EDS to. How old are you, Tiny? You sound like you’re just a squirt.”

“My age doesn’t matter,” Player responded evasively, “Ability matters more.”

“So, you’re like Team Red’s tech guy?”

There was no answer.

“Hello?” Neal questioned.

Silence.

“Tiny Tim?”

Player stared wide-eyed at his screens, realizing he’d just given himself away in a really stupid way. Neal now knew Team Red had a tech guy, and he knew he was only a kid. He would make an easy target, and Player grimaced, knowing he now had to beef up his home security.

“Did I say something wrong?” Neal asked in amusement.

Player muted his microphone, and once again tried to get a hold of Team Red. What was taking them so long?! Neal seemed content to watch tv, and Player kept an eye on him, but didn’t say anything to him. Once the game ended, another started and Neal watched in silence, barely moving other than occasionally eating a piece of popcorn.

“Player, the operation was a success, and Dash is going to be fine,” Carmen’s voice came across Player’s com.

Player had never been more relieved. “That’s great to hear, but you guys need to get back to base right **now**.”

“What, why?” Carmen demanded in concern, “What happened?”

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you guys for two hours now, but something was blocking all signals to your coms. The base is in lockdown.”

“Did Neal escape?” Carmen asked in alarm, “What did he do? Did he compromise the base?!”

“No, he hasn’t escaped, but he **tried** to. I had no choice but to put the base in lockdown.”

“What’s wrong?” Carmen demanded, hearing the uncertainty in his voice.

“Um...you...you just need to see for yourself,” Player responded awkwardly. “Hurry.”

Carmen exchanged a look with her team who had all heard Player’s odd message. Without a word, they ran for the van, having no idea what they were going to find once they got back to base. Ivy drove much faster than was safe, and only twenty minutes later, they jumped out of the van as soon as they pulled into their driveway. They ran to the warehouse and saw the security measures were still in place, and all the windows were shuttered and locked tight.

“We’re here, Player. Unlock the front door.”

“Unlocking it now, Red,” Player responded.

The moment she heard the click of the door unlocking, Carmen burst into the base with the rest of the team close at her heels.

“He’s in the living room,” Player informed them.

Carmen nodded, and then ran through the warehouse, preparing for a fight. She burst into the living room, fists raised, and she immediately froze at the sight that met her. Neal was seated on the couch stark naked, a bowl of popcorn the only thing giving him a bit of modesty, and he glanced over at her, expression unconcerned.

The rest of the team burst in behind her, and they froze as well, their faces an immediate mixture of horror and disgust. Chase looked completely puzzled at the sight of the naked villain, while Shadowsan looked furious, and Le Chèvre looked disgusted. Julia raised a hand to her mouth in surprise, while Ivy stared wide-eyed with her mouth agape, and Tigress seemed like she was about to be sick. El Topo simply pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation, and shook his head.

“Kia Ora,” Neal greeted, still not looking bothered in the least.

“How did you get out of the basement?” Carmen demanded once she’d found her voice.

“**That’s** the question you’re starting with?!” Tigress cried out, “How about we start with, why the **hell** are you naked?!” 

Neal glanced down at himself and then gave a shrug, popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth. “Was cold and wet,” he answered.

“Player, did he compromise the base in any way?”

“No, Red, he just helped himself to food from the kitchen and then stayed on the couch the whole time.”

“How did you get up here?” Carmen asked in surprise. “What about your foot?”

Shadowsan glanced down at the badly bruised and swollen leg. “You walked on it,” he stated, surprised the villain could stand the pain this would have caused.

“Kinda regret that now,” Neal admitted, “I can’t feel my leg anymore.”

“Fool.” Shadowsan muttered, approaching Neal. 

Grabbing a throw from the back of a chair, he threw it at Neal who caught it with a frown.

“The game is almost over, can’t you just let me see who wins?” Neal requested, “They’re head to head right now.”

Shadowsan’s response was to snatch the remote and then begin pressing buttons until he figured out how to turn it off. Neal heaved a sigh and wrapped the throw around his shoulders, as Shadowsan knelt down so he could take a closer look at the leg.

“Fool.” Shadowsan repeated, seeing Neal had made things much worse for himself. “You’ve made yourself lame. You’re not going to be able to walk on this until the damage has been healed.”

“How’s Dash?” Neal demanded, “Did Dr. Creepy patch him up okay?”

“Dash is going to be fine,” Carmen assured him, “And I owe you a huge apology.”

Neal gave her the side-eye as she approached, and she took a seat on the couch beside him.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you,” she began, “I was blinded by my own stubbornness and I didn’t see what was right in front of me. I was so stuck on getting Gray to listen to me that I almost allowed Dash to die, and I’ve never been more ashamed in my life. We may be on opposite sides, but neither of you deserved to be put through that. You tried to tell me and I wouldn’t listen. I’m sorry.”

“You nearly let Dash die.” Neal stated, his expression losing all friendliness in an instant.

Carmen was taken aback by the abrupt change in expression, and she was immediately reminded that Neal was indeed a villain, no matter how friendly he normally seemed.

“I know, and I’m **so** sorry!” she told him. “I messed up, and it nearly cost someone their life. I feel absolutely horrible for not listening to you, and I regret it. It shouldn’t matter whether we’re enemies or not when it comes to a life, and I’m asking you to forgive me. I’m sorry, Neal.”

Neal stared at her for a long moment, and then his expression softened. “You saved my life once, Black Sheep. This and the fact Dash is going to be okay, are the only reasons I will forgive you for this,” he responded with a shrug. “I can’t promise the same for Dash. He’s a complete priss and will probably be complaining about this for the next five years.”

“I saved your life?” Carmen asked in confusion, “When was this?”

Neal stared at her in surprise, and then he laughed. “You don’t even remember!” 

Carmen frowned. “When did I save your life?” she asked. “We’ve only met a few times...”

Neal shook his head. “Nevermind, love... I suppose it doesn’t matter now, it was a long time ago.”

Carmen was incredibly confused, and she stared at the villain, trying to remember all of their interactions over the years.

“I don’t suppose you’re going to let me go, are ya love?” Neal asked, looking a bit resigned.

“Not on your life.” Chase responded, crossing his arms. “You are a criminal.”

Neal raised a brow. “So are you.”

Chase sputtered indignantly, but quickly realized Neal was right. He scowled and said nothing more.

“You’re going back to the basement.” Shadowsan informed him. “Give us any trouble and you **will **regret it.”

The older man’s expression was still furious, and Neal didn’t doubt his words in the least.

Neal let out a sigh, and set the popcorn aside. “Yeah, that’s what I thought…”

“Cover yourself.” Shadowsan ordered impatiently. “There are girls in the room.”

Neal rolled his eyes and wrapped the throw around himself, and Tigress let out a breath of relief.

Once he was certain Neal was properly covered, Shadowsan lifted the thin man into his arms, knowing there was no way Neal could walk on that injured leg. As he was carried back towards the basement, Neal glanced over at Carmen.

“Nice base by the way, very homey.”

“I’ll be down in a few minutes to talk to you,” Carmen promised him. “I’ll bring you clothes.”

The moment Neal was gone from the room, Tigress stared at the couch with her lip curled in absolute disgust. She was staring at the couch like it was diseased, and she pointed a finger towards it. “We have to burn that now,” she informed the others.

“I agree,” Le Chèvre commented.

“Guys, we’re not burning the couch,” Carmen stated.

“Ugh, that man is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen,” Tigress complained, “Why couldn’t it have been **him** that got sick?”

“I think we’ve **all **seen more of Neal than any of us wanted to,” Ivy commented, “But that doesn’t mean I’d want him to get sick.”

Tigress simply rolled her eyes.

“Chase, do you think you could lend him some pajamas or something?” Carmen asked, “You’re probably the closest one to his size.”

Chase gave a silent nod and then turned to head in the direction of his room.

“So, how are we going to stop this from happening again?” Player asked.

“He’s left us with no choice and we’re going to have to keep him chained,” Carmen answered, her tone somewhat regretful, “It’s cruel, but I don’t see what else we can do.”

Ivy then let out a laugh. “I can’t believe Zack missed all this. He would have found the whole thing hilarious!”

“I wonder how they’re doing?” El Topo wondered out loud, “Do you think they found Mime Bomb’s sister yet?”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Mime Bomb buckled his seatbelt, and then glanced over at Zack who was trying to fit in the other seat. Zack pushed a bunch of junk out of his way, half crushing Mime Bomb in the process.

“Sorry about all the crap in the backseat,” Alys said apologetically, “I don’t normally have passengers.”

The whole inside of the car was jammed full of everything from sport’s equipment to boxes of papers, and Zack and Mime Bomb could barely fit in the back. Once Zack managed to get the door closed, Alys put the car in gear and then continued up the road in the direction of her home.

“I have rain in my ears,” Zack commented, rubbing at his ears.

“Yeah, Wales will do that to you,” Alys responded in amusement.

She glanced at Mime Bomb in her rearview mirror and he seemed amused as he listened to Zack complain about Wales being a swamp. The smile on his face gave her hope, and she gripped the steering wheel hard, hoping she could convince him to stay. He seemed to have made a life for himself in The United States, and she was terrified that he was going to choose to leave. The thought of losing him again after just finding him was too much to bear and she was determined to make him as comfortable as possible.

It was only a short drive until they reached Alys’ home, and as she placed the car into park, she gave her brother a warm smile.

“Welcome home,” she said.

Mime Bomb stared at the house, not quite sure how he felt about this. Home… **Was** this his home? True he had lived there for part of his childhood, but his mind kept thinking of Team Red and the new family they had created together. He glanced over at Zack, the boy’s constant kindness and support making Zack just as much family as Alys in his mind. He had a large family now, and he didn’t always get along with all of them, but they were still his. They weren’t going to make him choose, were they? Couldn’t he have both?

Alys opened the driver door and hefted her wheelchair out that she kept in the passenger seat, and Zack quickly got out to hold his umbrella over her head as she got out. Mime Bomb crawled out of the car with a bit of difficulty since his limbs were all buried in piles of junk, and then stood in the rain as he waited for Alys to unlock the door. Alys hefted herself easily into her chair and gave Zack a nod.

“Thank you for not trying to help me,” she stated.

“You didn’t ask for help,” Zack replied with a shrug. “I figured if you could beat Mime Bomb up, then you could handle getting out of a car.”

Alys winced at the reminder of hitting her brother, and she glanced over at him, as he stood shivering next to the door. Alys wheeled up the ramp to the door and then unlocked the door, ushering him in out of the cold rain.

Mime Bomb stepped into the mudroom, and saw nothing had changed about it, his eyes immediately falling on a cracked board in the wall. He had done that during a tantrum as a child and had kicked the board and cracked it. He winced, still remembering how his grandmother had boxed his ears over that one. She had always been a no-nonsense type of person and she never hesitated to smack her grandchildren if they stepped out of line. 

Mime Bomb stopped removing his boots as a thought suddenly occurred to him. Was his grandmother still alive? His eyes widened, and he suddenly grabbed Zack by the arm and jerked him around to face him.

“What is it?” Zack asked in confusion.

He signed at Zack, hoping the other boy understood and Zack stared for a moment and then frowned. “Grandmother?” he guessed, “You want to know about your grandmother?”

Mime Bomb gave a sharp nod.

“Oh, Gram is getting pretty frail,” Alys told him, “She doesn’t remember much these days, and mostly stays in her room. She’s probably asleep by now, and you’ll have to meet her in the morning.”

Mime Bomb’s whole body stiffened and he gave a shake of his head. Alys paused as she opened the door, and gave him a searching look.

“You don’t want to see her?” she asked in confusion.

Mime Bomb adamantly shook his head.

“Why?” Alys asked gently.

Mime Bomb glared angrily in the direction of the open door and then signed to Zack.

“What’s he saying?” Alys asked.

Zack stared in complete confusion. “I have no idea, but whatever he’s saying seems to be angry and the word grandmother keeps coming up.”

Alys glanced in the direction of the open door, a worried expression crossing her face. “Did gram do something to you?” she asked.

Mime Bomb stopped signing, and then gave a hesitant nod.

Alys frowned. “What did she do?”

Mime Bomb pointed at himself and when she nodded, he then made a throwing motion.

“...she threw you?” she asked in confusion. Her eyes then turned horrified. “She threw you away?!”

Mime Bomb nodded.

“Gram was the reason you went missing?” Alys guessed, looking more and more horrified by the moment.

Again Mime Bomb nodded.

“How? When? **Why** ? ” Alys cried out in distress. “She **couldn’t** have done this! Gram was devastated when you went missing!”

Mime Bomb shook his head and then mimed holding a phone to his ear.

“Ok, a phonecall,” Alys guessed.

Mime Bomb then reached in his pocket and pulled out a few British Pounds.

“Money.”

Finally Mime Bomb pointed at himself and repeated the throwing motion.

Alys stared at him, understanding perfectly what he was trying to say. “No…”

Mime Bomb nodded.

“But...why?”

Mime Bomb turned to Zack and signed to him.

“The car crash,” Zack translated.

Alys felt tears burning in his eyes. “She blamed you for the crash…”

Mime Bomb nodded.

“And so she made a phone call to have someone take you away in exchange for money. She then pretended she knew nothing about your disappearance.”

Another nod.

“Where…” Alys trailed off when she saw Mime Bomb beginning to hunch in on himself.

Alys instead reached for his hand, relieved when he allowed it. She gave his hand a tight and reassuring squeeze.

“You don’t have to see her,” she promised, “I won’t even tell her you’re here.”

Mime Bomb instantly relaxed.

“Believe me, I’m going to find out **exactly** what she did, and I’m **never** going to forgive her for this. She’s always been an unpleasant harpy, but I never would have expected her to do something like **this**!”

Alys muttered a few curses in Welsh and pulled MimeBomb into a protective hug. 

“I **swear** I’m going to yeet that shrew at the nearest nursing home!” she vowed, “I’m going to rip her head off!”

She released Mime Bomb and then motioned towards the house. “Come on, let’s get you warmed up, and then we can talk.”

Mime Bomb finished removing his boots and then followed her inside, the smell of the house so familiar that he paused to glance around. The house was exactly the same and seemed to be in need of a few repairs, the wallpaper torn and looking a bit shabby in places. Alys would likely have trouble doing repairs herself, and Mime Bomb felt guilty as he looked around.

Alys led them to the small and cosy living room, and then approached the fireplace to start a fire. Once she had it going, she then wheeled towards the door.

“I’ll be right back,” she told them.

“You doing okay, bud?” Zack whispered to Mime Bomb in concern.

Mime Bomb didn’t answer, instead wandering over to stare at the photos on the mantle. Zack looked over his shoulder, and saw several photos of a very young Mime Bomb. Zack reached over and picked up a photo of a tiny Mime Bomb covered in birthday cake, and he smiled.

“Ivy and I have pictures like this. You should get Alys to make you copies of all the family photos,” he suggested.

Mime Bomb nodded, and stared at a picture of himself holding up some sort of trophy, but he didn’t remember what it was for.

A few minutes later Alys returned carrying towels, blankets and changes of clothes.

“Here,” she said holding everything out to them. “If you give me your wet clothes, I’ll dry them for you while we have our talk.”

Zack reached out and took the pile of things from her, and then glanced at Mime Bomb who was still staring at the photos.

“Thanks, that’ll be great,” he told her, “I feel like a drowned rat.”

Alys wheeled around so her back was to them, and Zack began getting dressed in the borrowed sweatpants and sweater. He then gave Mime Bomb a nudge and shoved some dry clothes in his hands. Mime Bomb stared down at clothes, and then a look of resignation crossed his face. Surprisingly enough, he peeled off his wet clothes and got changed without a word of complaint.

“Okay, we’re decent,” Zack told Alys who turned around.

“I’ll be right back,” she told them, taking their wet clothes. “I’m going to toss these in the dryer for you.”

Zack took a seat on the nearby couch and Mime Bomb continued standing where he was tugging at the sleeves of his oversized sweatshirt.

“Relax,” Zack encouraged, “Everything’s going to be okay. Let’s have a short visit, and then we can come back and see her again tomorrow, okay?”

Mime Bomb gave him a nod, and then slowly sat on the couch beside him, feeling a bit on edge about everything. 

“Alys?” a voice called out, and Mime Bomb’s head snapped around to stare at the nearby closed door.

“Alys!” the voice yelled out again.

Mime Bomb couldn’t tear his eyes away from the door, and as it began to open, he stiffened in fear. An incredibly old woman with a cane stood in the doorway and peered out at them, her expression puzzled.

“Eilian?” she questioned, staring straight at Mime Bomb.

Mime Bomb grimaced at his mother’s name.

[[Eilian, why did you cut off all your beautiful hair?]] she scolded in Welsh, staring at Mime Bomb’s messy hair with a frown. [[You will never find a man if you don’t take pride in your appearance!]]

Zack stared at the old woman and narrowed his eyes, slowly edging closer to Mime Bomb protectively. To his surprise Mime Bomb stood to his feet, his eyes never leaving the old woman. 

“Mime Bomb?” Zack questioned in concern, watching as the other boy slowly began approaching his grandmother. “Don’t do it. She’s just an old woman. Don’t hurt her.”

Mime Bomb stopped directly in front of her and found he now stood a head taller than her, whereas she had towered over him the last time he had seen her. 

Zack slowly stood to his feet, knowing no matter how much she deserved it, he couldn’t let Mime Bomb hit her. He saw the moment Mime Bomb began lifting an arm, and rushed forward, but to his complete shock, Mime Bomb threw his arms around his grandmother in a hug.

“Eilian?” she questioned in confusion, laughing. [[What’s all this about? Why are you-]]

She then fell silent as she pried him away, and held Mime Bomb at arm’s length as she stared into his face. [[No...not Eilian.]] she corrected hesitantly. [[My grandson? Yuri?]]

Mime Bomb simply stared at her. She seemed puzzled and reached out and rested a wrinkled hand on his cheek.

[[You’ve gotten so big.]] she commented in surprise. [[Why are you so big? Something isn’t right here...something…]]

She stared into his eyes, and then she let out a gasp and glanced around as if suddenly afraid.

[[What are you doing here?! You shouldn’t be here!]]

Her eyes were wide and she began backing away on shaky legs. Without another word, she closed her bedroom door in his face. Mime Bomb clenched his fists, and then turned away, his expression a mix between frustration and disappointment.

“I don’t know what she said to you, but don’t you listen to her!” Zack told him.

Mime Bomb simply took a seat back on the couch, his eyes turning back to the door. He knew he should hate her, but the moment he saw her, he realized how much he had missed her. His emotions were confused, and he had no idea what to think. His grandmother had been a grouchy and stern woman, but she had loved him and treated him fairly...up until the accident that was.

Mime Bomb furrowed his brow, and wished he knew everything that had happened during that time, but doubted his grandmother would tell them. Drawing his knees up under his chin, he continued staring at the door, aware that Zack took a seat beside him.

“What did she say?” he asked.

Mime Bomb signed something without even looking at him.

“Nothing?” Zack repeated uncertainly, “It was obviously not **nothing**!”

Mime Bomb signed again, and Zack let out a sigh. “No, you’re **not** okay. Look, I think we should tell Alys about it.”

“Tell me about what?” Alys asked, entering the room.

Zack shot Mime Bomb a glance and then turned to Alys. “Your grandmother was just out here, and she said something to Mime Bomb, but he won’t tell me what.”

“She **what**?” Alys demanded, looking between her brother and the closed door.

Alys’ eyes narrowed and her mouth was set in a thin line as she wheeled her way over to the door. Reaching for the doorknob, she quickly became aware that the door had been locked.

[[Unlock this door, **right** now!]] Alys yelled angrily through the door. [[What did you say to Yuri?! What did you do to him! Open this door!]]

There was silence from within and Alys sammed her fist against the door. [[Open this door before I break it down!”]] she threatened. [[What did you say to him?!]]

Alys was suddenly startled by a gentle hand on her arm, and when she looked up, Mime Bomb gave her a slow shake of the head. Alys frowned at him, and then gave another glare at the door. Mime Bomb gave her arm a slight tug, and she reluctantly turned away from the door.

“I put your clothes in the dryer,” she stated with a deep sigh. “They should be dry within an hour.”

Alys held something out to him, and Mime Bomb took it and turned it over, realizing it was a small chalkboard. Alys gave him a hesitant look and then held out a piece of chalk.

“I thought this might help us communicate,” she told him, “I’m going to enroll in a sign language course first thing in the morning, I promise.”

Mime Bomb frowned at the chalkboard but didn’t protest and took a seat beside Zack as Alys wheeled over and shifted herself over to sit on the couch with them. Mime Bomb stared down at the board and tapped the chalk against it as if trying to think what to say. Finally he lifted it and began to write. Zack peeked over his shoulder and then squinted in confusion.

**Mae’n ddrwg gen i**

Mime Bomb held the board up to Alys who instantly shook her head. “No, you have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing at all. None of this was your fault. Say you’re sorry again and I’ll break that chalkboard over your damned head.”

Alys then paused. “I should probably tell you I’m just joking just in case you think I’d really hit you,” she said apologetically, staring at the bruises on his face. “I have a big mouth, but I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

As Mime Bomb erased the words with his sleeve, Alys watched him thoughtfully. “May I call you Yuri?” she asked.

Mime Bomb paused, and then wrote his answer, this time in English.

**No**

Both Zack and Alys seemed surprised by this.

“But that’s your name!” Zack protested, “We’re family, and isn’t it okay if we use your real name?”

Mime Bomb tapped his finger next to the word no.

“You want us to just keep calling you Mime Bomb?” Zack asked.

Mime Bomb gave a nod.

“Why?” Alys asked, “Does your name have that many bad memories that you don’t want to use it?”

Mime Bomb erased the board and then began writing. He paused a few times and then turned the board around.

**My name is not safe**

Zack was completely confused. “What? I don’t get it, why is your name not-”

“I understand.” Alys said, suddenly growing serious. “They were the ones who took you, weren’t they?”

Mime Bomb nodded.

“I tried to investigate them, but all the numbers I had were disconnected, and then there was a fire and all records of them were lost. I tried researching this, but men showed up at my door and told me I was trying to access classified information. They took my laptop and every paper I had. Luckily I had a spare hard-drive. Now I keep five copies of everything.”

“Who?” Zack demanded.

“I’m assuming you escaped and weren’t just let go?” she asked.

Another nod.

“What did they do to you there?”

Mime Bomb erased the board and then began writing.

**I don’t want to talk about this. Not yet**

Alys looked incredibly pained for a moment, and it was clear she wanted to ask more questions, but she refrained and instead reached for his hand.

“How about if we keep things lighthearted tonight and just keep the topics away from your past?” she suggested, “We’ll deal with the rest another time.”

“But, who were you talking about?” Zack demanded. 

“I don’t know how long you’ve known Yur-Mime Bomb but there are things that only he should share,” Alys replied.

“But…”

Mime Bomb nudged Zack and then held up the board.

**Please stop. I’m not ready to talk about this right now**

Zack didn’t look happy, but he gave a nod. “Okay, but you have to promise to talk to me about it later. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Mime Bomb nodded as he erased the board.

“I know!” Alys suddenly said, snapping her fingers. “I’m going to put on some of our old home movies. It’s been a long night for all of us, and so how about if we just relax for tonight and save the serious stuff for when we’re not all so tired?”

Mime Bomb seemed relieved, and gave a nod.

“What about your job at the bar?” Zack asked, “Won’t you get in trouble?”

Alys laughed and waved him off. “I own the bar, and I left my bartender in charge. He’ll close down and take care of things for me.”

Alys hefted herself back into her wheelchair and then crossed the room towards a large television. She reached down and opened a cabinet and pulled out a box full of SD cards. She looked through them for a few moments and then found the one she was looking for.

“Aha, here we go,” she stated, inserting the SD card into the tv’s card reader. “This one is my favourite.”

She wheeled back to the couch and then took a seat next to Mime Bomb once again. Grabbing the tv remote, she turned it on and then settled herself down comfortably and then began scrolling through files on the SD card. Selecting a file, she turned the volume up as a video began to play. It looked like it was a school talent show and they watched as cringy after cringy performance was done by various kids.

“Okay, I think I’m next,” Alys told them with a smile.

“_ Alys Firth _!” the host announced on the video.

Sure enough, a small ten year old Alys walked out onto the stage dressed in her karate uniform. She then demonstrated an impressive and complex performance which was clearly the best in the show so far. When she finished, she gave a stiff bow to the audience who clapped and Zack clapped right along with them.

“Wow, that was great!” he complimented, “Did you win?”

Alys just laughed. “Just wait.”

They watched several other painful performances and then the host announced.

“_ Yuri Volkov _!”

Zack’s eyes widened as a tiny five year old Mime Bomb strolled onto the stage seemingly unafraid of the crowd watching. He was dressed in a very adorable tiger costume, and the crowd began laughing at him. Zack scowled at the crowd, but surprisingly enough the little Mime Bomb seemed unconcerned.

The music began to play and then the boy began to bob his head along with the tune. Suddenly he began belting out the words to Eye of the Tiger with complete confidence. Zack watched as the boy performed like he was doing a concert, hitting each note perfectly and having all the drama of a seasoned rock star. The fact it was a tiny five-year-old child doing this performance made the audience simply sit in stunned silence. When the boy finished, he gave a bow with a flourish, and then skipped off stage to where his sister was waiting for him. It wasn’t until he was off the stage that the applause came.

“Wow, that was really good!” Zack commented with a grin. “You were so little, buddy! Did you win?”

“Yup, that was the day my baby brother kicked my ass in a talent show,” Alys laughed, smiling over at her brother. “I had no idea he was planning on doing this until he walked out on stage. This was during his month of dressing as a tiger, and so I didn’t even suspect.”

Mime Bomb had no memory of this at all, and had to admit it was funny. The look of complete outrage on little Alys’ face was adorable, and he found himself smiling.

“You always had such a beautiful voice,” Alys said wistfully, “I wonder what sort of voice you would have by now?”

Mime Bomb placed a hand to his throat and then frowned, honestly having no idea. He didn’t even remember the last time he had spoken, and considered it thoughtfully. He doubted his voice would have deepened too much based on the range he had in his singing voice as a child, and figured his voice would have likely been a tenor. 

Another video started and he glanced up and saw his mother smiling into the camera. She then turned the camera towards a man who was seated on a couch with a baby in his arms. The man was smiling down at the baby as he rocked it, and a tiny bit of blondish-red hair could be seen poking out of the blankets. The man glanced up and gave the camera a wide smile that reached his eyes.

“He looks just like you,” the man said, his English a bit accented.

The man had a mess of dark hair that hung into his face, and gentle brown eyes, and he turned his attention back to the baby.

“I will have to think of a good and strong name for my son,” he stated.

“He is a week old, Alexei, he’s already been named,” Eilian told him.

The man turned sharp eyes towards her. “What did you name him?” he demanded.

“Osian after my father,” she replied.

“No, I don’t like it,” he stated, lifting the baby up so he could look into his eyes. “He needs a proper Russian name.”

“He is Welsh, not Russian,” Eilian informed him.

“Nonsense.”

He was born in Wales from a Welsh mother; he is Welsh,” she said firmly.

“A boy is whatever his father is,” the man replied dismissively, “Now, what should I name you, little one? Hmm...”

“He has been named,” Eilian said, her tone growing angry.

“Have you submitted the paperwork?”

“It is all filled out and ready to be mailed,” Eilian replied.

Alexei gave a shrug. “Then it’s not too late to change it. Keep Osian as his middle name if you must, but his name **will** be Russian.”

“But, Alexei!”

He turned a harsh stare at her and she fell silent. Alexei turned his attention back to the baby and ran a rough finger across the baby’s cheek as he thought.

“He will be Yuri Volkov.”

“Alexei…”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Yuri **Osian** Volkov,” he then smiled at his son. “How about that, Yura*? How do you like your new name?”

The baby shifted a bit in his sleep, but didn’t wake.

Eilian muttered something in Welsh that sounded a bit rude and the video suddenly ended.

“Was that your dad?” Zack asked in surprise.

Mime Bomb nodded with a frown.

“Um...he seems kinda...er.”

“Like a douche?” Alys helpfully supplied, “Yeah, he was. He didn’t like anyone except for Yur-Mime Bomb. He only came around for holidays.”

Video after video played, and Mime Bomb honestly wasn’t sure how he felt about everything. The videos left both a happy and a bitter feeling in his chest and knew it was probably the same for Alys. They sat and watched until after two, and it was then that Zack began to drift off to sleep. Alys noticed and reluctantly turned the tv off.

“Can I pick the two of you up tomorrow so we can talk?” she asked.

Zack yawned, glanced at Mime Bomb and then nodded. “Yeah, Alys, that sounds great. Do you want to meet for lunch?”

Alys nodded. “Sure, I’ll pick you guys up at noon and I’ll take you to a good place that I know of. I’ll grab your clothes from the dryer and then I’ll give you a ride. You’re staying at the B&B right?”

Zack nodded and gave another long yawn. 

Alys left the room to get their clothes, and Zack gave Mime Bomb a nudge.

“How you doing, bud?” he asked.

Mime Bomb gave him a nod and a slight smile and Zack felt relieved. He clapped him on the shoulder, and then grinned.

“Let’s go home, get to sleep and then we can get to know Alys, okay?”

Mime Bomb gave another nod. When Alys returned, she had their clothes in a bag and handed it to Mime Bomb with a smile. 

“You can return the sweaters tomorrow,” she told him, “It stopped raining for now, and so we’d better hurry and get you back before it starts again.”

As they left the house, they didn’t notice they were being watched from one of the bedroom windows. Alma Firth stared in disapproval and wrung her hands as she stared at her grandson. Once they were driving away, she turned away from the window and reached for the phone. Dialing a number she had long since memorized, she only had to wait a moment before it was answered.

“Would you care to explain why my grandson just returned home?” she demanded, “I thought you had him taken care of!”

She paused as she listened to the response. “Yes, I overheard them say they’re staying at the Bed and Breakfast here in the village.”

She listened again.

“Very good, make sure it’s done right this time.”

-

((* Yura is a petname for Yuri, normally used by close friends or family)

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Neal sat on the mattress in the basement and glared at the shackle that bound his uninjured ankle. Shadowsan had warned him that if he managed to slip out of his chains a second time, he’d shackle his neck instead. Being leashed like a dog didn’t sound like a very pleasant time, and so Neal left the shackle where it was.

He was wearing pajamas that were slightly too short in the arms and legs, and for some reason they reeked of mint.

He spent most of the day napping, but was quickly becoming bored out of his mind. There was nothing to do, no one to talk to, and Neal felt like he was being tortured. When Carmen brought down his supper, Neal knew he had to get her to release him.

“Are you just going to keep me down here forever?” Neal demanded.

“Hopefully Crackle will be more cooperative soon,” Carmen responded.

“He’s not going to trade himself for me,” Neal told her with a sigh, “He’s the leader of the group and more valuable than me. It would be stupid if he turned himself in.”

“Sorry, Neal, but I don’t see what else I can do at this point.”

“Well...you could just let me go?” he suggested.

“You know I can't do that.”

Neal leaned back against the post and gave her a smirk. “I can make you let me go, you know,” he informed her.

Carmen raised an eyebrow. “Are you threatening me?” she asked in disbelief.

“Perhaps,” Neal acknowledged, “There’s a reason why no one has ever kept me captive for long.”

“Oh?” Carmen asked, knowing he was likely trying to trick her. “Care to explain?”

Neal gave an evasive shrug. “You’ll find out.”

Carmen was almost certain he was bluffing, because Neal didn’t seem like the type of person to hurt anyone, and he didn’t seem particularly mad. She would watch him carefully, but she doubted she had anything to worry about.

“How is your leg feeling?” she asked, glancing down at his injured ankle.

Neal moved the icepack aside and she winced at the sight of the bruising.

“Ouch,” she said sympathetically, “Do you need another icepack?”

“No, I’ve dealt with worse,” he replied, “It’s the boredom that’s killing me. I think you should invite me up for a movie night.”

“Sorry, Neal, not gonna happen,” she replied, “How about if I bring down a book?”

Neal simply stared at her. “Do I look like the type of person that reads?” he demanded in amusement.

“That’s all I can do for now,” she said, giving him a sympathetic look.

“I give it two days before you let me go,” Neal told her with complete confidence.

“Don’t let your supper grow cold,” she replied, turning to head for the stairs. “I’ll bring you something to read in a few minutes.”

Once she was gone, Neal stared down at his suppertray and frowned at the pile of roasted vegetables. He poked at a suspicious white cube, and assumed it was probably tofu.

“Yeah, mustn’t let **this** get cold,” he stated, pushing the tray away. “What a shame **that** would be.”

True to her word, Carmen returned a few minutes later with a thick book and a battery operated book-light. She frowned at his untouched supper and then held out the book to him. He took it and turned it over. Jane Eyre.

“...thanks,” he said, knowing that book was never getting opened.

“Was something wrong with your supper?” Carmen asked.

Neal gave the plate of food the side-eye. “I don’t really eat...any of that stuff.”

Carmen raised a brow. “You mean vegetables?”

Neal gave her a sheepish shrug, and Carmen rolled her eyes. “Would you like me to bring you a peanut butter sandwich instead?” she asked teasingly.

To her surprise, he nodded. 

“Er, yeah, that would actually be great, love.”

Carmen knew it wasn’t her place to lecture a villain on their eating habits, and simply gave a shrug and knelt down to take the tray.

“Jam?” she asked.

“Do you have strawberry?”

“Probably,” Carmen replied, turning towards the stairs.

“Good, because Crackle banned all of us from eating anything with strawberries, and it’s been hell.”

Carmen suspected Neal was just teasing her, and so she didn’t rise to the bait. “I’ll be back with your sandwich in a few minutes.”

True to her word, she really did bring him two peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwiches, and then left again before he could think of something to say. He noticed that she had passive-aggressively cut the crusts off his sandwiches and cut them into triangles.

Neal let out a snort of amusement, and grabbed one of the sandwiches. Little did she know, he had no pride and so this didn’t bother him in the least.

Two hours later, Neal was so unbelievably bored that he thought he was going to go crazy. Finally, out of complete desperation, he turned his eyes to the book, needing **something** to do. He picked it up and frowned at the thick book, having no idea what it was about. The cover looked incredibly boring, and he imagined the story would be boring as well. It was long too, reeeeally long. He flipped to the last page and saw it was over 800 pages in length. Letting out an agonized moan, he glanced around the basement, desperately looking for anything else to keep his attention.

The basement was pretty much empty and there was absolutely nothing of interest. He tossed the book aside and flopped over onto the mattress, but was feeling wide awake and knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Kicking at the support beam with the heel of his uninjured foot, he rolled over and once again found himself staring at the book.

“Ugh.” Neal complained.

He stared up at the ceiling, and his eyes fell on the ventilation shaft that opened right above where he was chained. His eyes followed it, and he realized it likely went through the whole building. It was getting to be late, and Neal had a feeling Team Red would be going to bed soon. Neal smiled. At least that’s what **they** thought.

Feeling quite smug, he waited until all movement upstairs stopped and then he picked up the book. Opening the cover, he skipped past the preface, and turned his gaze to chapter one.

Clearing his throat, Neal laid back on the mattress and then began reading out loud in the most obnoxiously posh British accent he could manage.

“_ There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering, indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning; but since dinner (Mrs. Reed, when there was no company, dined early) the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so sombre, and a rain so penetrating, that further out-door exercise was now out of the question _.”

As Neal continued to read, he gave every character a different voice and threw in his own sound effects for things that were going on in the story. As he read in a loud and clear voice, he knew very well Team Red would be able to hear him, but surprisingly enough, no one came down to the basement. He read chapter after chapter, having fun with the different characters as he assigned them voices, and soon he found himself getting into the story.

By the time he reached chapter five, Team Red must have finally begun to lose their patience with him because suddenly the light to the basement was turned off. Smirking to himself, he reached for the booklight and switched it on.

He then continued reading, raising his voice even louder. When he reached chapter 16, he suddenly heard a howl of rage from through the vent.

“I’m going to kill him!” Tigress snarled.

Neal continued on like he hadn’t heard, and a few minutes later he heard a commotion from upstairs. He assumed it was the rest of Team Red stopping Tigress from murdering him, and felt a smile come to his lips. He continued on, and soon he heard screaming and fighting, but he never once paused. Eventually it went quiet, and hour after hour passed, Neal now genuinely interested in how the story was going to end.

“_ You did right to hold fast to each other,’ I said: as if the monster-splinters were living things, and could hear me. ‘I think, scathed as you look, and charred and scorched, there must be a little sense of life in you yet, rising out of that adhesion at the faithful, honest roots: you will never have green leaves more— never more see birds making nests and singing idyls in your boughs; the time of pleasure and love is over with you: but you are not desolate: each of you has a comrade to sympathise with him in his decay.’ As I looked up at them, the moon appeared momentarily in that part of the sky which filled their fissure; her disk was blood- red and half overcast; she seemed to throw on me one bewildered, dreary glance, and buried herself again instantly in the deep drift of cloud. The wind fell, for a second, round Thornfield; but far away over wood and water, poured a wild, melancholy wail: it was sad to listen to, and I ran off again. _”

Neal adjusted himself a bit more comfortably, surprised someone hadn’t snatched the book away from him yet. The hours continued passing, and he never once stopped reading. Eventually morning came, and he turned off the book light when the sun made its way through the tiny windows nearby. He was feeling rather sleepy at this point and finally decided he had terrorized Team Red enough for one night. 

Closing the book, he gave a long and lazy stretch.

“Wait, you can’t stop there!” Player protested across the speakers, “You were **right** at the end!”

Neal laughed and glanced up towards the camera. “Did you listen that whole time, Tiny Tim?” he asked.

Player was silent for a moment. “...maybe,” he admitted. “Are you going to finish?”

Neal opened the book and saw there were only three chapters left. “Okay, okay,” he said, “I guess I can finish the book.”

He began to read the chapter normally, leaving out the accents and voices.

“No, no!” Player protested, “Do it properly, do the voices!”

Neal grinned and started the chapter over, this time doing the silly voices. When he finished the very last page of the final chapter, he snapped the book closed and then flopped backwards on the mattress, his throat rather sore from reading for ten hours straight.

“Well, at least I have **one** fan,” Neal commented, closing his eyes as he stretched.

“The rest of Team Red certainly aren’t very happy with you right now,” Player informed him, “You kept them awake all night.”

Neal let out a cackle, this being exactly what he’d been hoping for. A couple days of **that**, and they’d be begging him to leave.

“Can I make a copy of you reading the book?” Player asked, “The whole thing was recorded on the camera.”

“Sure, knock yourself out, Tiny. Do what you want with it, I don’t care.”

Neal yawned widely, and yanked a blanket over himself, feeling very satisfied with himself. 

Upstairs, Team Red was assembled in the kitchen as Shadowsan made breakfast for everyone. No one had slept a single wink all night, and now they had to stay awake for the day so they could meet with Crackle. It had gone quiet about an hour before, and everyone was in a foul mood. They were now on their fifth pot of coffee, and Ivy was absolutely thunderous. She was slamming around the kitchen like she was on her last nerve, and the bags under her eyes clearly showed how exhausted she was.

Shadowsan dished out omelets and then placed one on a separate plate for Neal.

“Douse it in tabasco,” Tigress suggested.

“Or cayenne pepper flakes,” Le Chèvre suggested.

“**No** , no one is messing with his food,” Carmen said firmly, “No matter how annoyed we are at him right now, we **don’t** deny him edible food.”

Shadowsan added a bit of fresh fruit to the plate, and then turned to face the others. “Who is going to bring him his breakfast?” he demanded.

“Can I throw it at him?” Tigress demanded.

“No.” Shadowsan said with a frown.

“Then, **not** it,” she replied.

“I’ll take it,” Ivy said, angrily crossing the room.

Carmen hesitated. “Uh...I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Ivy. I think you need to calm down a bit first.”

“Relax,” Ivy replied, placing the plate and a glass of orange juice on the tray. “I’m not going to hurt him. I’m just going to give him a piece of my mind.”

“Ivy…”

“I’ll be fine,” Ivy replied, hurrying out of the room with the tray.

She was so furious that she wanted nothing more than to yell for a few minutes, and as she descended the basement stairs, she was already taking a deep breath to begin. She then paused when she reached the bottom and saw the villain. Neal was sound asleep, curled up underneath the blankets, and Ivy felt herself snap.

“Oh no you don’t!” she hissed, setting down the tray.

She then strode over to the villain, and knelt down beside him. Taking a massive breath she then screamed into his ear as loud as she could.

Neal jerked awake in a complete panic, clutched at his chest, and he stared at Ivy with wide eyes, having no idea what was going on. Ivy then cut off her scream and glowered down at him.

“How do **you** like it?!” she snarled, “Is it enjoyable? You having a good time? Because I’m telling you right now, that I damn well wasn’t having a good time all last night!”

“Geez, love, you nearly gave me a heart attack,” Neal complained, still clutching at his chest from the surprise.

“If you think that **you** get to sleep after keeping us awake all night, then you have another thing coming!” Ivy hissed, leaning in close to his face. “I am making it my personal mission to make sure you don’t get a single wink of sleep today just like the rest of us! Every time you so much as close your eyes, I’m going to be screaming in your face!”

Neal simply blinked at her, having no idea what to say to that.

“I have a little brother who has discovered nearly every possible way to annoy me, and so don’t think I can’t handle you, you greasy jerk!” she hissed, “I am a **veteran** at this!”

Neal rubbed at his eyes tiredly. “Who are you again?”

“Ivy.”

“Well, Ivy, I guess the game is on then. I’m not stopping until you let me go, and I can keep this up indefinitely.”

Ivy narrowed her eyes. “You’re going down, bub, and if **I** don’t get to sleep, then **you** don’t get to sleep!” Ivy growled, giving him a poke in the chest. “Now eat your breakfast, and be glad I didn’t shove it down your throat!”

Ivy then straightened up and stormed from the basement, without another word. Neal glanced over at the tray of food and saw it was just out of his reach near the stairs.

“Oh, come on,” he complained.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Roundabout stared at his computer screen, and adjusted his glasses as he read the information presented. Frowning thoughtfully, he scrolled through a few pages and then slowly reached for his com. He dialed a number in his contacts and then waited as it rang. After several minutes of constant ringing, it was finally answered.

Dr. Vess angrily glared into the screen, but when he saw it was a faculty head, he quickly smoothed his expression into something a little more respectful.

“Evening Roundabout,” he greeted, “What can I do for you?”

Roundabout never had very many interactions with the V.I.L.E doctor, and honestly didn’t know much about him. He knew he had been handpicked because he was a genius, but other than that, he hadn’t really bothered to learn much about him. 

“Yes, er, Dr. Vesalius, was it?”

“That’s right,” the doctor confirmed.

Roundabout adjusted his glasses and then cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I was going through travel reports and I see you used the private jet to go to San Diego to treat Mr. Dash Haber?”

Dr. Vess blinked at him. “That is correct.”

“Why did the V.I.L.E surgeon travel halfway across the world to treat something that could have **easily** been handled by the doctors at a local hospital? Also, why are you now in Poitiers? I see that you are planning on leaving for Russia in just fifteen hours, and so what was the point of this visit? There are no injured operatives in France that I know of, and fifteen hours is too long to refuel. This is a **vast** waste of time and money, and I just want to understand your reasoning. I am responsible for managing V.I.L.E’s funds, and I have no idea how to justify these expenses.”

Dr. Vess stared at him for a moment, and then leaned back in his chair, completely unconcerned. “You will have to take this up with Maelstrom or Bellum because I report directly to **them** . They have a vested interest in Crackle’s team, and I follow orders. I am in Poitiers on personal business and I don’t have to justify **anything** to you.”

Roundabout was not expecting such a dismissive reply and he was instantly offended. “I say!” he exclaimed, narrowing his eyes. “Who do you think you are?”

Dr. Vess met his gaze head on. “I am the best and **only** surgeon V.I.L.E has any hope of obtaining. I can’t be so easily replaced as say...an **instructor**.”

Roundabout gaped at him, unable to believe the cheek.

“I am a very busy man, Roundabout,” Dr. Vess informed him,“Unless you have something else to say to me, I suggest you take this up with Maelstrom and Bellum.”

Roundabout sputtered indignantly. “You can be certain that I **will** be reporting this disrespectful attitude!”

Dr. Vess rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you will,” he replied, reaching towards the screen.

A second later, the call ended and Roundabout realized he’d been hung up on. He frowned disapprovingly, and then immediately reached out to dial another number. This time the call was answered almost immediately and Professor Maelstrom’s smirking face appeared on the screen.

“Why, Roundabout,” he greeted in a silky tone, “This is rather unexpected. What can I do for you today?”

Something about Professor Maelstrom always made Roundabout instantly nervous, and he found himself pulling at the collar of his shirt in an attempt to loosen it a bit. “I was hoping you’d be able to clear something up for me, Gunnar.”

Professor Maelstrom raised an eyebrow and was clearly intrigued. “Oh?” he questioned.

“I was going over the V.I.L.E expenses and came across some alarmingly high expenses associated with Dr. Vesalius.”

Professor Maelstrom sat forward so fast that Roundabout jumped back from the screen. He then felt incredibly foolish, and took his seat again.

“Leave it alone.” Professor Maelstrom ordered, his tone surprisingly angry.

“But why was he-”

“I said **leave** it.” Professor Maelstrom repeated, his eyes narrowed to slits. “The doctor works for **me** and he has my full permission to use funds as he needs. You will **not** stick your nose where it doesn’t belong, do you understand me?”

This reaction was so over the top that Roundabout simply stared at him. Why was he acting like this over a simple jet ride? Was there more involved with this than he realized?

“Do. You. Understand?” Professor Maelstrom demanded.

“I am head faculty just like **you**, Gunnar!” Roundabout pointed out. “I don’t think it’s right if we’re keeping secrets from each other!”

Professor Maelstrom stared at Roundabout in an imperious way, and this only made Roundabout feel even more unsettled.

“Leave it alone.” Professor Maelstrom repeated. “This is the only warning I’ll give on this matter.”

Professor Malstrom then hung up the call, and Roundabout was even more confused. What exactly was Maelstrom trying to hide? Was he somehow using the doctor to funnel funds out of V.I.L.E? He scratched at his chin thoughtfully, thinking about the private jet. There had to be something more involved with that visit than simply treating an injured operative. Roundabout narrowed his eyes, and knew he had to find out what Maelstrom was trying to hide. 

Tapping his fingers on his desk thoughtfully, he knew he could never get away with investigating things himself, and so he’d have to send someone in his place. The key to all this probably involved Team Crackle, but he didn’t know how or why. Who could he use that he could trust? An operative would be noticed missing pretty fast, but who else could he use? A civilian was out of the question, and his business contacts couldn’t be trusted. His eyes then widened as a thought occurred to him. He could use an operative that was temporarily out of commission. No one would be paying attention to that operative and they could be moved without drawing any suspicion. The operative could get away with spying for him, and hopefully he’d be able to get some answers.

Knowing exactly who to use, he once again reached for his com. He scrolled through his extensive list of contacts and finally found who he was looking for. As the com dialed, he leaned forward on the desk and steepled his fingers together.

The face of Otterman appeared on the screen. “Um...er...hello?” he asked hesitantly, “How can I help you Mr. Roundabout?”

“Otterman, how are you recovering?” Roundabout asked, hoping he wasn’t still bedridden. 

“I’m doing very well,” he assured him, “I’m ready to return to full duties.”

The face of Mooseboy leaned into the screen. “No, he’s not,” he stated, looking disapproving, “He’s still in a lot of pain, especially at night.”

Otterman’s face flushed. “Shh!” he hissed angrily at his partner, “Do you want me to get mindwiped?!”

Mooseboy narrowed his eyes. “I won’t let them touch you.” he vowed. “I’ll protect you!”

Roundabout rolled his eyes. “I’m not planning on having you mindwiped,” he assured the two Swedish men, “I have a special project I would like you two to participate in.”

Mooseboy looked uncertain. “Sven still isn’t well enough for a mission.”

“This is a very mild mission,” Roundabout assured them. 

“What is the mission?” Otterman asked, curiously.

“I am going to send you to San Diego and your job is to spy on Team Crackle and report anything out of the ordinary. I don’t care what it is, if it seems strange, then I want to know about it.”

“That’s it?” Otterman asked in surprise, “No heists, no fighting?”

“Nothing of the sort,” Roundabout assured him, “Spy for me and tell no one about this. As far as everyone is concerned, you’re still on leave recovering from your injury.”

Otterman glanced over at his partner, who was looking incredibly worried.

“I dunno, Sven…” Moose Boy said, “You’re still having trouble walking.”

Otterman glared at him. “Henrik!” he hissed. 

“You are not to interact with Team Crackle unless absolutely necessary. If they catch you spying, you’re to say you’ve been sent to San Diego on a mission. Just make something up.”

Otterman nodded. “We’ll do it.”

“But-” Moose Boy protested.

“We’ll do it.” Otterman repeated firmly.

Moose Boy heaved a sigh, and then nodded.

Roundabout gave them a nod. “I’ll be in touch shortly to discuss this further. Cheers.”

As soon as Roundabout disconnected the call, he felt proud of himself. Otterman and Moose Boy were the worst operatives V.I.L.E had and he knew no one would notice if they went missing for a while. He was going to find out what Professor Maelstrom was hiding one way or another.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Dash’s whole body ached, but he was warm and comfortable and just wanted to go back to sleep. Unfortunately, his bladder had other ideas and so he reluctantly had to wake up. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw he was in his bed at the motel, and was confused. Glancing down at himself he saw he was wearing a pair of his expensive red silk pajamas. His memories were incredibly foggy and he wasn’t quite sure what had happened over the last couple days. He thought he remembered being in a basement with Neal, and something about an icy shower, but he knew it must have just been a fever dream.

Dash let out a low moan, and shifted, and within seconds Crackle was kneeling down beside him. Crackle placed a hand on his forehead, and Dash swatted his hand away irritably. Crackle didn’t seem bothered by this, and held out a thermometer towards him.

“I’m fine,” Dash replied, starting to sit up.

Crackle placed a firm hand on his shoulder to keep him down, and without a word shoved the thermometer into his mouth. Dash sputtered in outrage, but Crackle held it in place and a few seconds later, it beeped and he pulled it out.

“99.1,” Crackle commented, “Your fever is almost gone.”

“We were worried about you,” Theodore told him from the other bed, “You were real sick.”

Dash again tried to sit up, but Crackle once again pushed him back down.

“Dr. Vess said you are to remain on bedrest for two to four weeks,” Crackle informed him, “You can get up in three days to walk short distances, but you’re not to put any strain on yourself.”

Dash was even more confused. “Dr. Vess? Dr. Vess was here? Why?”

“For **you**, stupid,” Paper Star informed him, “You almost died.”

Dash glanced over his shoulder at Paper Star and frowned. “What?”

“You don’t remember?” Crackle asked in surprise, “You were incredibly sick, and Dr. Vess had to remove your appendix. You have a serious infection right now which caused your appendix to become inflamed. It will take weeks for the infection to clear.”

Dash’s eyes widened and he reached a hand down to his sore stomach. His whole abdomen was hard and swollen and incredibly painful. He didn’t remember anything from the past couple days and felt a bit disconcerted. He’d never had an operation before, and he rubbed a hand across the bandages, feeling rather annoyed. Two weeks of bedrest?! That was **not** going to happen.

Resting a hand on the mattress, Dash pushed himself up, but Crackle immediately stopped him.

“You’re not to get up yet,” he stated, “We’re following the doctor’s orders **exactly**. The infection is severe and Dr. Vess doesn’t want to chance you rupturing anything.”

“I need the bathroom,” Dash snapped out at him, “I’m sure I can manage eight steps without dying.”

“I’ll help you,” Crackle told him, “I’ll carry you.”

“What? **No**!” Dash responded angrily.

“I’m **not** letting you walk, and so you don’t have a choice in this. The doctor gave me very strict orders to make sure you rest as much as possible. I almost lost you because of this illness and I’m going to make damn sure you recover.”

Dash slowly rolled over onto his back and he crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing. “Graham, you are **not** carrying me to the bathroom. I can walk a few steps across the room without dying.”

“No.” Crackle responded firmly. “I am following the orders I was given. I will carry you.”

As soon as Crackle reached for him, Dash lashed out with a foot and kicked him solidly in the stomach.

“**Don’t** touch me.” he hissed. “I don’t need your help, and you are **not** carrying me like a toddler.”

Crackle clutched at his stomach and felt his patience starting to wane. “You’re certainly **acting** like a toddler.” he retorted.

Dash stared back at him arms crossed, and Crackle knew this was **not** going to be a fun two weeks.

“You have the choice of me carrying you, or you using a bedpan, but you are **not** getting up on your own.”

Dash gave him an absolutely horrified look. “You can’t be serious.”

“Try me.” Crackle replied.

Dash stared up at Crackle and could see the stubborn look on the other man’s face and knew he actually meant it. Feeling humiliated and angry, Dash looked away and said nothing. Crackle eyed him for a moment and then once again reached down towards him. Dash said and did nothing, and so Crackle very carefully scooped the thin man into his arms. As he carried Dash towards the bathroom, Dash’s expression was thunderous, but he remained quiet.

A few minutes later when they returned, Dash was still furious and glared at everyone in the room, daring them to say anything. He refused to admit it, but his stomach was hurting a lot from just this tiny bit of movement, and he doubted he would have been able to take more than a few steps on his own. 

Crackle settled him back in bed and then lifted up his pajama top to check on the stitches. Removing the bandages, he saw the stitches were bleeding a bit and he frowned in concern. Grabbing the jar of anti-bacterial cream the doctor had left behind, he applied some to the wound, and Dash sucked in a sharp breath, the cream stinging. Crackle changed the bandages to clean ones, and then reached for a bottle on the nightstand.

Crackle then held out two pills and glass of water towards him.

“The doctor said to give these to you as soon as you woke up,” he told him, “One is for the pain and the other is to help fight the infection.”

Dash’s stomach was in absolute agony and the thought of swallowing anything right now made him grimace. He didn’t complain however, and took the pills without a word.

“Are you hungry?” Crackle asked him.

Dash immediately shook his head.

“Dr. Vess said you’ll need to eat foods that are easily digested for a few days and so I have soups and creamed cereals for you.”

“Ugh, stop talking about food,” Dash snapped, rubbing at his stomach. “I still feel sick.”

Crackle gave him a concerned nod. “Sleep for a while, but I want you to try eating something a bit later. Dr. Vess says you’re underweight and he wants you to put on at least fifteen pounds.”

Dash stared at him in complete outrage. “**Fifteen** pounds?! Are you completely **stupid** , Graham?! I am **not** putting on that much weight! You can tell Vess to drop dead!”

Crackle glared down at Dash, who was scowling up at him fiercely.

“Go to sleep and we’ll discuss this later,” Crackle ordered.

Dash narrowed his eyes, but he **was** actually completely exhausted, and so he let out an angry huff, and then began very carefully turning over onto his belly. He was a stomach sleeper, and even though this put a bit of pressure on his wound, he knew this was the only position he’d be able to fall asleep in. To his annoyance, Crackle pulled the blankets up over his shoulders like he was a child being tucked in, and he shot him a dirty look.

Crackle then crossed the room, and took a seat on his own bed, clearly done pestering Dash for a while. Speaking of pests...where was Neal? Dash glanced around but the Kiwi was nowhere in the room. Was he out running errands? Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Dash relaxed and allowed himself to drift back to sleep. As soon as his breathing was deep and even, Paper Star glanced down at him, and then turned to look at Crackle.

“So, **why** were you guys worried about Dash again?”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**Next update will hopefully within a week.**

**All credit for these gorgeous pics goes to these wonderful artists!**

**MelodyMeddly is responsible for the Player pic**

**Violetfic is responsible for the naked Neal pic**

**Karakhili is responsible for the Ivy and Neal pic**

**Coulrosaurus is responsible for the two grumpy Dash pics**

**Dr. Vesalius is owned by Violetfic, and I am using him with her permission.**

**Credit for the names of Otterman and Moose Boy go to Animedemon01**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**

**Please don't forget to let me know what you think!**


	16. Chasing Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone!
> 
> I had to break this chapter into two parts otherwise this would have been a 25k word chapter. If you did art for the chapter and I didn't contact you, don't worry, your art appears in the second half of this chapter which will be posted in a few days.  
Please note that Dr. Vess uses the F-word extremely frequently in his everyday speech. You have been warned.
> 
> If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 16**

**Chasing Shadows**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Otterman very slowly and carefully approached the door to the plane. His back was in absolute agony from being forced to fly in coach all the way from Bulgaria, and he could barely walk. Although Moose Boy had offered to help him, Otterman refused his help out of pride. Everyone else had long since left the plane, and it was only the flight attendants and the two villains remaining.

“Sir, are you sure you don’t need an ambulance called?” one of the flight attendants asked him in concern.

“I’m fine.” Otterman snapped impatiently.

That flight attendant had actually been fantastic the whole flight, and she had provided him with everything he asked for when she realized he was in pain. Even taking double the amount of painkillers he was supposed to didn’t even dent the pain he was in, and he could only manage to shuffle slowly.

“We don’t mind helping you, Sir.” the told him gently.

Otterman was embarrassed and he shook his head. “I can do it myself.” he said rudely.

Moose Boy held back for a second and whispered something in the flight attendant’s ear and she gave him a nod and then picked up a radio. She walked back out of his hearing range, and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously. 

Roundabout had wanted to keep their mission a complete secret, and so they couldn’t use a V.I.L.E plane for their travels. They’d had no choice but to fly on a commercial plane, and to their annoyance they were booked economy seats. The first part of their flight hadn’t been too bad, and they had a stop in Germany to refuel and then from there it was a twelve hour flight to San Diego. 

There was a screaming baby behind them the whole flight and as Otterman’s pain got worse and worse, he felt like screaming along with it. Every bit of turbulence on the plane sent waves of pain throughout his body, and it was when he began using the sick-bag that he caught the attention of the flight attendants. 

Moose Boy explained to the crew that Otterman recently had back surgery and was in a lot of pain from the plane shaking. Because of the bad turbulence, the flight attendants couldn’t allow him to get out of his seat, and so he was forced to sit in agony for almost the entire flight. They had brought him blankets and pillows and free drinks, but nothing had helped.

Now that they were finally in San Diego, Otterman had struggled to get up and it took Moose Boy taking him by the arm before he could stand. His back had completely seized up, and they’d had to let everyone off before them. When Otterman finally made it to the door of the plane, he groaned when he saw the stairs, knowing this was going to be excruciating. 

Otterman’s eyesight wasn’t the best, and the shiny metal stairs were blurry in his vision, and it was hard to judge where the steps were. Gripping the railing tightly, he very carefully stepped down, his whole body shaking from the pain. His foot slipped as he misjudged the distance, and Moose Boy quickly caught his arm, the bigger man prepared for this to happen. Without a word, he reached down, and scooped Otterman into his arms, who immediately began to struggle.

“Henrik! Put. Me. Down!” he ordered in embarrassment. “I can do it myself!”

[[No, you can’t.]] Moose Boy replied firmly in Swedish. [[You’re in a lot of pain, and I’m going to help you whether you want me to or not. Stop being so stubborn.]]

Otterman’s face reddened, and he was certain everyone was staring at them as they descended the stairs. Once they were on the ground, he gave a squirm, expecting to be put down, but to his surprise Moose Boy kept walking and crossed the tarmac towards the building.

“Henrik!” Otterman whined, giving another squirm.

[[Hush.]] Moose Boy scolded, as they approached a man standing nearby. 

As they got closer, Otterman saw the man waiting for them had a wheelchair with him.

[[What?]] Otterman protested. [[No! I don’t need a wheelchair! **Henrik**!]]

[[Sven, stop being so stubborn.]] Moose Boy repeated as they neared the man. [[You need help.]]

“Sir, do you need an ambulance called?” the man asked as Moose Boy gently lowered Otterman into the wheelchair.

“No, he just needs to rest his back once we get to our hotel.” Moose Boy assured him. “The flight was just a little too long for him. He had back surgery and is still recovering.”

The man gave them a nod of understanding. “Do you need assistance pushing the wheelchair?”

Moose Boy shook his head. “No, Sven isn’t very heavy. I’ll be okay.”

Otterman clapped both hands to his face as he turned scarlet, and he said nothing as Moose Boy began pushing the chair towards the doors. 

Security was a nightmare to get through, and for some reason they kept directing all questions about Otterman to Moose Boy. It was like he wasn’t even there, and he found it degrading and humiliating. When TSA had spoken to Otterman, their questions were pretty basic, and it was clear they thought he was special needs. Otterman knew they were judging him by his appearance and it was embarrassing. The lenses in his glasses were like coke bottles, and he was thin and pale and he knew he looked pretty pathetic sitting in the wheelchair. He grew petulant and crossed his arms against his chest, but knew better than to say anything.

Since Otterman had a controlled substance in his painkillers, security had checked all the paperwork they’d brought with them, and then gave the 3rd degree to Moose Boy about their reason for travel and what the pills were for. Moose Boy wasn’t exactly the swiftest man in the world, but they had rehearsed what he was to say to TSA for **hours** before getting on the plane.

Moose Boy calmly told security they were tourists from Sweden, and that the pills were from Otterman’s recent back surgery. He was able to answer every question directed to him, and they had seemed satisfied. Once they had gotten through the rest of security with minimal problems and collected their bags, Mooseboy took him to the airport cafe and bought him a hot chocolate, knowing that normally cheered him up. Otterman sipped at his hot chocolate sullenly for a few minutes, and then reached into his pocket for his pills.

[[Is your back **still** not feeling **any** better?]] Moose Boy asked in concern.

[[A bit better,]] Otterman admitted, [[but it still hurts a lot.]]

Moose Boy reached out and gently took the bottle from his hands. [[How about if we just give your back a **bit** more time before you take any more of these?]] he suggested. [[Dr. Vess said they’re incredibly strong, and you’ve taken two already. They could upset your stomach.]]

Otterman heaved a sigh, and went back to sipping at his hot chocolate without a word. Otterman had always loved chocolate more than anything else, and it didn’t pass his notice that his partner always brought him chocolate anytime he was hurt or upset. He knew Moose Boy was just trying to help, and he didn’t have the heart to tell him hot chocolate wasn’t going to help him right now.

When they had finished their drinks, Moose Boy was giving him a hopeful look, and so Otterman spared him a smile. That was enough for Moose Boy who grinned widely in return.

[[I’ll drive us to our motel now.]] he told him, pushing the chair towards the car rental kiosk. [[Do you know how to get there?]]

Moose Boy had a terrible sense of direction, and so while Otterman couldn’t drive due to his eyesight, he was always the one to direct the bigger man on where to go. 

He gave him a nod. [[Yes, I know how to get there.]] he replied. [[I studied the map of San Diego last night.]]

[[Great!]] Moose Boy said in a chipper tone. [[Which motel are we staying at?]]

[[The Green Tree Motel. It’s the same one Team Crackle are staying at.]] 

Moose Boy nodded, and then stopped the wheelchair so he could speak with the rental desk. Otterman took that opportunity to pull out his com and then glance at his missed messages. There was nothing too important, and so he opened Candycrush and started a new level. After he beat five levels, he finally glanced up to see what was taking so long.

“What’s going on?” he demanded in English.

Moose Boy looked grave. [[There was a mix-up and they don’t have a car for us.]]

Otterman let out a groan. This was **exactly** the type of thing that always happened to them, and he felt resigned and frustrated.

[[And what are they doing about it?]] he asked.

Moose Boy hesitated, and Otterman narrowed his eyes. [[What?]] he demanded.

[[Er...they said there’s nothing they can do about it…]]

Otterman scowled. [[What?!]] he cried out, glancing up at the front desk. “Excuse me!”

A young man poked his head over the desk so he could see him. “Yes, sir?”

“You can’t just leave us stranded at the airport like this! We had a reservation!”

The man winced sympathetically. “I’m so sorry, Sir, but we have no cars to give you.”

“Well, what about your competitor?” he demanded, glancing over at one of the other kiosks.

“We’re **all** sold out for today.” the man told him. “I’m so sorry, but perhaps we could call you a taxi?”

“And are you **paying** for this taxi?” Otterman shot back.

Roundabout didn’t want to attract attention by spending a lot of money and so their funds for this mission were **extremely** limited. They were banned from using their credit cards in case anyone noticed they were no longer in Bulgaria, and they were strictly forbidden from thefts of any kind. If they got caught stealing, it would bring Roundabout unwanted attention from the other faculty. He had threatened the both of them with a mind-erase if they dared so much as steal a stick of gum.

“I apologize, but that is not something my company is able to do.”

Otterman crossed his arms. “Is there a supervisor or something I can speak with. We had a reservation and this isn’t fair!”

“I’m sorry, Sir, but there’s no supervisor at this time.”

“What are we supposed to do!” Otterman cried out angrily. “**Walk**?!”

He then glanced down pointedly at the wheelchair and then glared at the man. The man looked suitably sympathetic which only made Otterman even more annoyed.

“I can call another location and see if they can bring a car if you like?”

“And how long will **that** take?”

“Hard to say.” the man admitted. “It depends on how far they have to bring the car. Did you want to wait for it?”

Otterman glowered up at him. “Do we have a choice?”

“Not if you want a car.” the man replied in a chipper tone.

“Yes, we will wait for it.” Otterman said, once again feeling resigned.

“Great! Take a seat over in the waiting area, and I’ll call you when the car arrives.”

Moose Boy pushed the wheelchair over to the empty waiting area and carefully shifted Otterman into one of the seats. Taking a seat beside him, Moose Boy glanced down at his partner, noting his expression of annoyance.

[[It’ll be okay, Sven.]] he assured him. [[Maybe the car will get here fast?]]

Otterman didn’t have high hopes because nothing **ever** seemed to go in their favour. Shifting on the hard airport seat, he laid down across three of the seats, resting his head in Moose Boy’s lap without a word. Moose Boy immediately began running his hands through the smaller man’s hair, and Otterman found himself beginning to calm down. The pain was more tolerable in this position, and so he simply laid there feeling grumpy and resigned. Why did nothing **ever** go right?

An hour later, Otterman had fallen asleep, and Moose Boy sat diligently still, not wanting to jostle him. He watched the tv screen above them, feeling bored but not complaining.

The man at the service desk glanced over at them, and his expression became a bit more genuine as he frowned thoughtfully. Glancing down at his wedding ring, he rubbed a finger over it, and then let out a sigh.

“Excuse me, Sir.” he called over.

Moose Boy looked up in confusion. “Me?”

“Yes, Sir, could you please come here for a moment?”

Moose Boy stood up without hesitation, forgetting about his partner, and Otterman’s head fell the second he moved and smacked into the seat painfully.

“Din jävla dum skalle!” Otterman cried, rubbing at his head.

“Oops, sorry, Sven!” Moose Boy said with a wince.

Otterman glared at him, and Moose Boy offered him a sheepish smile and then hurried over to the kiosk.

“Yes, I’m here.” Moose Boy announced.

The man raised a brow at the exchange he’d just witnessed. “Yes...I see that.”

“Do you have a car for us?” Moose Boy asked hopefully.

“Look, I’m going to be honest with you here. There’s no way you’re going to get a car tonight. It’s Friday night and everywhere is booked solid because of a concert in town.”

Moose Boy’s expression fell. “Oh.” He glanced over at Otterman, and his worry was clear.

The man followed his gaze and he offered Moose Boy a sad sort of smile. “How long have you two been together?” he asked.

“Oh, a long time.” Moose Boy answered. “Since we were eighteen. We met at the academ...er, I mean at school and have been partners ever since.”

“Wow, that’s a long time to be together. Any plans for marriage?”

Moose Boy looked incredibly confused for a moment, and then realized he had misunderstood. “Oh, sorry, sometimes my English is a bit...wrong. Sven still doesn’t admit we’re dating. He thinks no one knows.”

The man gave him a look of complete disbelief because any moron would look at them and know they were together. He knew how horrible it could be to be faced with homophobia and again ran a finger over his wedding band. It took a lot of courage to face the hostility of the world, and he sympathized completely.

“I hope he feels comfortable enough to come out soon.” he told Moose Boy. “I know it can be difficult.”

Moose Boy briefly wondered if he was misunderstanding the English again, because he had no idea what the man meant. “Er...yes.” he reluctantly agreed.

“Look, I’m really not supposed to do this, and I could get in a lot of trouble for even offering, but I’m off work in ten minutes and I could drop the two of you off at your hotel if you like?”

Moose Boy had never been more relieved. “Really?”

The man nodded. “In the morning, give our toll free number a call and explain to them what happened. They should be able to get a car transferred to you by the end of the weekend.”

Moose Boy smiled widely. “Thank you!” he cried out. “Thank you so much! I’ll go tell, Sven!”

The man watched the large lumbering Swede hurry back over to his partner and smiled. Hopefully their trip to the USA would get better from here.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Mime Bomb couldn’t sleep that night. His mind was plagued by memories, some good and most terrible. He found himself thinking of a time in his life that he had tried desperately to forget. 

It was the loneliness that had made it unbearable more than anything they had done to him. Mime Bomb had come from a very physically affectionate family, and he had been accustomed to getting hugs, being held, getting kisses, but there was no physical contact in the hell he found himself in. The only time **they** touched him was to cause him pain, and he quickly became touch-starved and incredibly lonely. Zack had been the first person to hug him in nearly fifteen years, and he had latched himself to the boy like a lifeline.

The silence had been agony during his time there, and it had felt absolutely smothering. When he had first been placed in the room, he had screamed and cried non-stop first for his grandmother, and then for his father, but no one had come for him. His screams had seemed to die almost as soon as the sound left his mouth, the sound-proofing on the walls absorbing every noise he made. It was like the room was eating his every word, and it terrified him.

Mime Bomb would scream until his voice was hoarse, and then the silence would come crashing in on him like a wall. He couldn’t stand it, and so for his every waking moment he had begun to sing just to fill the room with some sort of sound. It helped keep the silence at bay, and it made things a little easier for him to deal with. He would sit there with his eyes closed and imagine he was somewhere else, his song hiding the fact he was in hell. 

**They** had not been happy over what he was doing, and he soon found himself being punished more and more severely. When nothing could stop him from singing, **they** had taken him out of the room and dragged somewhere he had never been before. Mime Bomb had no idea what **they** had actually done to him in that room, but he remembered the burning agony in his throat that had made him cry. His cries had come out silently however, and this had terrified him. He had tried screaming, he had tried whispering, but there was nothing but silence. **They** had stolen his voice, and then tossed him back into the terrible white room. 

Mime Bomb could no longer hide from the crushing silence that surrounded him. Every day was filled with silent tears, and he wished someone would come rescue him. The silence became deafening and every little sound became incredibly painful. His every breath had been acid to his own ears, and after a time he had learned to carefully control his breathing so he never made a single sound.

When **they** would come for him, **their** steps and **their** voices felt like glass in his ears and he always curled under his bed with his hands over his ears. **They** would just drag him out and take him, and the moment he left his room, the sounds would be unbearable. He never realized how agonizing sound could be until every little sound seemed to be magnified tenfold. The sound of a creaky hinge? It was like nails on a chalkboard. The sound of a cough? It was like an explosion just beside him. 

He would walk along with his captors, hands held over his ears and tears blurring his vision, but he never gave **them** any trouble, and so **they** allowed him to follow unrestrained. Every time **they** took him from his room, it was only for more pain, but after a time he grew resigned to it, and never offered any resistance. Whenever he behaved himself, he would be rewarded with a piece of orange candy, and he quickly learned to detest the taste of anything orange. Orange was the flavour of his pain, it was the flavour of silence, it was the flavour of his captivity. Even years later, Mime Bomb refused to touch anything that was orange flavoured.

Mime Bomb stared up at the ceiling, knowing at this point that sleep would not be finding him that night. He knew he owed both Zack and Alys an explanation of where he’d been during his four year disappearance, but how could he possibly explain it when he didn’t even fully understand it himself? Rubbing a hand across his eyes, he rolled over and stared towards the window. It was almost morning and he could just see the beginnings of light appearing on the horizon. 

Hearing the sounds of spinning tires on the gravel outside, he wondered who would be arriving this early in the morning. It was barely five, and a little odd in his opinion. He slowly sat up as he heard a car door slam shut, and he decided to be nosy and get up to investigate. Padding across the room in his bare feet, he peered out the window and saw three tall and burly men standing in front of a black, windowless van.

The men didn’t look like they were delivery men, and Mime Bomb narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Were they here to rob the Bed and Breakfast? They had left the engine idling, and the way they were glancing around the property made him think they were looking for the best way to enter the property. To his surprise they knocked on the front door loudly and the old woman who owned the Bed and Breakfast must have been awake because she answered the door pretty fast. He listened for a moment and there didn’t seem to be an issue, and so he shrugged and figured they must have been expected company.

Deciding to investigate the possibility of an early breakfast, he headed for the door. Giving a long and lazy stretch as he left the bedroom, he passed by Zack’s room and then started down the stairs. The sounds of voices met his ears, and he paused when he heard Russian accents. Peeking over the railing at the living room below, he saw the three men speaking with the old woman who ran the inn. She pointed towards the staircase and the men all glanced over, their gazes immediately falling on Mime Bomb. One of the men took a few steps towards the stairs and looked up at him, the man staring a bit too intently at him.

“Yuri Volkov?” he questioned.

Mime Bomb’s eyes widened, and without hesitation, he fled for Zack’s room. Bursting into the other boy’s room with a crash, he slammed the door closed, and then locked it. Zack woke with a start and then stared at him in confusion as Mime Bomb began dragging a heavy bureau in front of the door.

“Uhhh...what’s up, buddy?” Zack asked, having no idea what he was doing.

Mime Bomb then dragged a few chairs and other things over as the sound of footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs. Mime Bomb then ran for Zack, grabbed him by the hand and pulled him out of the bed. Zack stared at him in confusion, but when the saw the terror on the other boy’s face, he knew it was something serious.

“What’s going on?” he demanded. “What happened?”

Mime Bomb opened the window and then began climbing out, still pulling Zack by the hand.

“Whoa, what are you doing?!” Zack asked. “You’re going to fall!”

Mime Bomb gave his hand a desperate yank and suddenly there was pounding at the door. Zack stared at the door with wide eyes, and then turned his attention back to Mime Bomb.

“Mime Bomb?”

Mime Bomb yanked his hand again, a pleading look on his face and Zack gave him a nod. 

“Okay, let’s go.” Zack said, crawling out after him.

Trusting that Mime Bomb knew what he was doing, he carefully balanced along the tiles of the roof as Mime Bomb hurriedly began heading for where the roof was slanted. Finally releasing Zack’s hand, Mime Bomb jumped down the ten foot drop with practiced ease, and then turned to make sure Zack was following. Zack had not gone through V.I.L.E training, and so a ten foot drop was a bit intimidating to him. There was a loud crash behind him as the bedroom door was broken down, and so he got down on his hands and knees and then lowered himself down on his fingertips letting go and falling the remaining couple feet to the ground.

Mime Bomb instantly had him by the hand again and they ran for the trees, crossing the nearby field.

“YURI VOLKOV!” came a loud yell from behind them.

Mime Bomb paused and looked behind them and saw the three men staring at him from the bedroom window. One of the men drew a gun from his coat pocket and fired a shot before either of the boys had time to react. A dart hit the tree right beside Mime Bomb’s head, and his eyes widened in fear. He yanked Zack into the forest and then they ran, Mime Bomb remembering the way through these trees. He knew they had to warn Alys and headed for the cottage, knowing the shortcut through the woods would allow them to beat a car there for several minutes.

The damp moss under their feet made it easy to run through the woods, and Zack glanced behind them having no idea who the men were.

“Who were those guys?” he demanded. “Are they from V.I.L.E?”

Mime Bomb simply shook his head, having no way to explain at the moment. Cutting across a shallow stream, they crawled their way up a hill and found themselves in the fields that surrounded Alys’ property. Mime Bomb ran across the wet fields and as soon as he reached the cottage, he began pounding on the door as hard as he could. The door was unlocked and as he threw it open, he hoped they weren’t too late.

He crossed the mudroom, banged again on the inner door and then charged inside, a terrified feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Hello?” Zack called out loudly.

A nearby door opened and a very bleary-eyed Alys peered out at them. Mime Bomb was so unbelievably relieved to see her that he ran and threw his arms around her in a bone-crushing hug.

“What in the-Yuri?!” she questioned, taking in the sight of him in confusion. He was in his pajamas, and was soaking wet and barefoot. “What happened?!”

“I don’t know, but three men showed up at the Bed and Breakfast and they were after Mime Bomb. They shot at us and we ran for it.”

Mime Bomb grabbed Alys’ hand then gave it a tug pointing towards the door.

“What? No, Yur-I mean Mime Bomb, I’m not going anywhere.” she stated, glancing towards the door. “Who is after you? What happened? Have **they** found you?”

Mime Bomb nodded, and tried to force her towards the door. Alys gripped the wheels so she couldn’t be moved.

“I’m not leaving my home, because they’re not going to hurt me.” she assured him. “It’s always been you that they were after. I’m a nobody to them.”

Mime Bomb grimaced and she yanked him down into a reassuring hug. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to allow them to take you.”

The sounds of a car screeching to a stop outside the house, had them all staring towards the door in alarm.

“Yuri-er Mime Bomb, do you remember the secret liquor closet?”

Mime Bomb gave her a nod.

She gave him a shove towards the kitchen. “Go, get inside the closet and don’t come out no matter what you hear.”

Mime Bomb shook his head and so she turned to Zack. “Take him.” she ordered. “Go **now** before they get here.”

“But Alys...” Zack protested.

“I swear I’ll be fine, but if they get their hands on Yuri again, we’ll never see him again! Take him, **now**! The secret door is inside the cupboard.”

Zack glanced between Mime Bomb and Alys and then seized Mime Bomb and dragged him towards the kitchen as he struggled and fought to get back to his sister.

“**Stop**! We have to hide.” Zack ordered him, as he fought to keep a hold of the smaller man.

Mime Bomb shook his head and struggled with all his might to break Zack’s hold. They couldn’t just leave Alys to face them alone!

“**No**, we have to hide!” Zack told him. “I’m not letting you go! Stop fighting me!”

Mime Bomb’s response to that was to sink his teeth into Zack’s arm as hard as he could. Zack let out a startled yelp, but didn’t let go and instead tightened his grip even more. Once he had dragged the smaller boy into the kitchen, he gave Mime Bomb a sharp shake and then pointed towards the cupboards.

“Show me where the hidden door is.”

Mime Bomb tried to pull away and Zack harshly jerked him back, and gave him another shake. 

“Where, Mime Bomb, show me **where**!”

Mime Bomb seemed to shrink in on himself and Zack immediately felt guilty. They heard voices in the other room and Mime Bomb reached out and opened one of the cupboard doors. He then hit a panel in the back and it slid away showing a small room filled with wine bottles. 

“Come on.” Zack whispered.

Mime Bomb stared towards the door, worried for Alys and Zack pulled him towards the hidden compartment.

“Please, Mime Bomb, just let us hide and keep you safe. **Please**.”

Mime Bomb looked completely distraught, but he gave a slight nod and then climbed through the cupboard into the hidden room. Zack quickly crawled in after him and closed the cupboard door after them. He slid the hidden panel closed and then they sat knee to knee in the tiny room, simply listening.

“Who the **hell** do you think you are?!” Alys demanded as the three men entered her home.

“Where is Yuri Volkov?” one of the men demanded.

“Get out of my home **now** before I call the police!” Alys snarled. “I haven’t seen my brother in over fifteen years! He went missing when he was seven!”

“Don’t even **try** to lie to us.” the man said threateningly. “He was seen in Cardiff at a restaurant, and then we got a call tonight that reported him in your house. I know he’s been staying at the Bed and Breakfast, and he ran in this direction just a few minutes ago.”

“I haven’t seen him.” Alys snapped. “He’s not here.”

The man narrowed his eyes at her, and then glanced over at the other two men. “Search the house.” he ordered.

The men immediately rushed in opposite directions to do as told, and Alys scowled.

“Just who do you think you are?!” she growled. “Get out of my house!”

“We will once we’ve located Mr. Volkov.” he replied. “How about if you just make this easier on yourself and tell us where he is?”

“I don’t **know** where he is.” Alys repeated firmly.

The man cracked his knuckles. “There are ways I could make you talk.” he threatened.

Alys drew herself up and met his gaze fearlessly. “Try it and see what happens, you twat.”

The man scoffed at her. “You are **really** dumb, girl.” he observed. “What are you going to do, roll over me?”

“Yeah, I **will** right after I beat the shit out of you!” she retorted. 

He stared down at her and then without warning, he backhanded her hard enough to knock her out of the wheelchair to the floor. He then let out a dismissive snort at the sight of her clutching her aching jaw.

“Women should not argue with men.” he commented. “Learn to do as you’re told.”

Alys suddenly lashed out and slammed her elbow directly into the man’s kneecap. Taking him completely by surprise, the man cried out in pain as his leg buckled, and he fell to the floor hard. Alys was on him in an instant, punching him with every ounce of her strength over and over. She brought her fist down into his face and chest mercilessly, and anytime he tried to sit up or move, she’d harshly yank him back, not stopping for an instant. Alys trained every single day at the gym and her arms were powerful, and her stamina was second to none.

“Lousy creep coming into my house!” she snarled, hitting him again and again. “Disrespecting me, and then laying your hands on me. Well, how do you like my response, asshole? Want me to say it a little louder?”

The man struggled and fought against her, but she had him pinned down using her full body weight and he could do nothing to stop her. She was suddenly yanked off the man, and then gently put back in her chair. She glared at the two men who were now helping their partner to his feet and she crossed her arms angrily.

[[We found nothing.]] one of the men said in Russian.

[[Did you check absolutely everywhere?]]

[[Yes, we looked under every bed, inside every closet and in every cupboard. He’s not here.]]

The man wiped the blood from his face and then let out a curse. [[He must have headed for the river instead. If we drive around the village, we should be able to cut him off before he gets too far.]]

He then turned a look of loathing towards Alys and slowly pulled out his gun. One of the other men grabbed his arm to stop him.

[[You know our orders. No killing civilians.]]

The man’s expression turned ugly, but he reluctantly put his gun away.

“You’re lucky **this** time.” the man snarled at her, spitting on the floor just in front of her. “We’d better not find out you lied to us!”

Alys narrowed her eyes at him and then leaned forward fast, pleased when he flinched. “I’m **not** lying and I have no idea where he is. Now, how about you get the **hell** out of house before I call the police?”

The men exchanged a long look and then turned and headed for the door without another word. Alys wheeled after them and watched as they got in their van, and the moment they drove away, she closed the door and then headed for the kitchen as fast as she could.

“Yuri?!” she called out. “Zack! It’s okay to come out now, they’re gone!”

There was a pause and then the cupboard door opened. Mime Bomb looked up at her as he climbed out, his expression agonized, and he threw his arms around her tightly.

“Aw, _ Annwyl _.” she said gently. “I’m fine. They didn’t hurt me.”

Mime Bomb touched a hand to the bruise on her cheek and she scoffed.

“You should have seen what I did to **him**.” she bragged.

Mime Bomb felt **so** guilty for leaving her while he hid like a coward, and it must have shown on his face because Alys pulled him back into the hug.

“It’s not safe for you here, _ Annwyl _, you need to leave. They will be back.”

Mime Bomb shook his head and she gently placed her hands on his shoulders, forcing him to look at her.

“I want you to stay, but they will come back over and over until they finally get you. Go home to the United States where you’ll be safe.”

Mime Bomb shook his head again.

“I don’t want to lose you again.” Alys told him. “If they take you, we both know we’ll never see each other again. Even if we’re a whole continent apart, I’ll be happy just knowing you’re safe.”

“We can call you every day.” Zack promised her.

Alys shook her head. “We can’t rule out the possibility that they’re tracing my phone. I don’t want them being able to find you.”

Mime Bomb clutched her hand tightly, and again shook his head. He pointed towards the door and then pulled her hand, his meaning clear to her.

“No, I can’t go with you.” she told him sadly. “I would just slow you down, and I would never jeopardize you like that. My life is here, I can’t just leave Wales like this. My home is here, my bar is here, my friends are here, and someone has to remain with Gram.”

Mime Bomb’s expression was stubborn and he gave her hand another hard yank.

“You need to run.” Alys told him. “You need to run as far as you can from here. I’ll be fine and you don’t have to worry about me.”

Mime Bomb’s expression turned angry and he stomped a foot and tugged her again.

“No, Yuri.” she told him firmly. “I can’t go with you. I refuse to put you in danger.”

Zack had no idea what to say. “We’ll get our tech guy to figure something out.” he promised. “We know where you are now, so we’ll get in touch with you.”

Zack turned and put his hands on Mime Bomb’s shoulders. “Come on, buddy, we have to go before they come back. I don’t really know what’s going on, but I know these guys probably won’t give up this easily.”

Mime Bomb gave Alys an agonized look, not wanting to leave after **just** finding her. He knew he had no choice and it made him both angry and devastated at the same time. Feeling tears welling in his eyes, he threw his arms around her in one last tight hug. As he pulled away, he kissed her cheek and then turned towards the door.

“You remember the shortcut through the woods to Omar’s orchard?” Alys asked.

Mime Bomb nodded, keeping his back to her.

“Steal Omar’s truck and then take the logging roads to get to the airport. He keeps his car keys in the ignition of his truck like a dumbass.”

Mime Bomb gave her a nod, and still didn’t turn around. Alys reached out and gave his hand a squeeze.

“Promise me you’ll be safe.” she begged. “I don’t want to lose you again.”

Mime Bomb returned the squeeze, and then removed his hand from hers. Still not looking back, he headed for the door not waiting for her to say goodbye.

“I love you, Yuri.” 

Mime Bomb stopped walking for a moment and then hunched his shoulders and walked out the door into the rain. 

“It was really nice meeting you.” Zack told her. “We’ll contact you as soon as possible, I promise. Give us a few hours to reach our tech guy and we’ll figure something out. We’re all family now, Alys, and we’re not going to just cut you off.”

Alys gave him a smile. “Please protect Yuri, Zack. Don’t let them take him.”

“No one will hurt him.” Zack vowed, turning towards the door. “Goodbye, Alys.”

“Be safe.” Alys begged, as Zack left the house.

Zack glanced around not seeing Mime Bomb and then he spotted him already halfway across one of the fields. He took off after him at a run, and he caught up just a few moments later. Mime Bomb didn’t even glance at him as the other boy fell into step beside him, his gaze set firmly ahead.

“We’re going to figure this out.” Zack promised him. “We’ll get Player to set something up so we can talk to her.”

Mime Bomb turned a glare at him and pointed to his throat.

“I meant video chat.” Zack responded, rubbing at his sore arm.

Mime Bomb glanced at the bite mark on Zack’s arm and then grimaced guiltily. He reached out and touched a sympathetic hand to Zack’s arm and then signed sorry. Zack gave him a shrug.

“I get it, man, you were scared for your sister. Bite me again though, and I’ll bite you right back!” he threatened.

Mime Bomb nodded, and then he gave a tug to Zack’s arm, knowing they needed to hurry. Barefoot, wet and freezing cold, they ran for the woods, hoping to be able to make it back to their plane safely.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Siren hummed quietly to himself as he stared down at the mountain of paperwork, clicking his pen thoughtfully as he did so. The paperwork was always endless, and so he wasn’t exactly in a hurry to finish the stack on his desk. Flipping through a few pages, he picked out a few that looked somewhat interesting and turned his attention to them. They seemed to be medical charts of some kind and knew this was exactly the sort of thing Dr. Vess was interested in.

He had been working with Dr. Vess for a long time now, almost a decade in fact, and the doctor was always interested in new medical advancements. Although they didn’t exactly get along, they had made a lot of incredible discoveries together. They had created vaccines that were far more efficient than anything the general public had access to, and Dr. Vess was always creating new balms and ointments. When they were creating, it was interesting and fun, but unfortunately for Siren, most of his work involved translating research papers. Hours and hours of tedious and dull translations. Paperwork, paperwork, and more **paperwork**.

He was tired of sitting there at his desk hour after hour, and he glanced up. How long had he been sitting there anyway? Rubbing at his eyes, his gaze fell on his assistant who was staring at him with a somewhat vacant expression.

“What time is it, Ted? He demanded. 

His assistant simply stared at him and didn’t move.

Siren rolled his eyes. “Helpful as always, Mr. Roo.”

Somehow he had been assigned the most useless assistant on the planet. The man never did what he was supposed to, and had the I.Q of a potato. The man was enormous at over seven feet tall and looked like he could lift a car, but yet he was an assistant. Sometimes he wondered if Vess had hired him just to irritate him. Having an assistant two feet taller than him was annoying, and he was always staring at him vacantly.

Siren glanced to his right at the two guards at the door and then frowned at them when he realized they were staring at him as well.

“What?” he demanded. 

The guards shifted a bit uncomfortably and averted their gazes.

“What the hell is everyone’s problem today?” Siren demanded. “Am I getting the silent treatment or something?”

When no one answered, Siren let out a deep sigh and pulled out a pile of his finished paperwork. He plopped it down on the corner of his desk and then glanced to his left back at his assistant.

“Ted, go fax these to V.I.L.E for me, I’m sure **that’s** not beyond your capabilities.”

Siren maintained eye contact for a moment and then reached for the nearby mug of coffee. Taking a gulp, he immediately pulled a face at the cold and sour coffee. Ugh, how long had **that** been there? Pushing the mug aside, he gave a stretch which caused an audible crack in several of his stiff limbs. He must have been there longer than he thought. Was the work day already over?

He wasn’t entirely certain of the time, but knew he should at least finish the papers he had started. With a sigh, he turned his gaze down at the documents.

The entire stack of documents were all in Russian, and he was supposed to translate them for V.I.L.E so they could do whatever it was they did with paperwork. English was such a boring language in Siren’s opinion, and he wished he could translate into a more interesting language. Farsi was a fun language, and Korean was nice to his ear. He hadn’t spoken Korean in a very long time, and he found his mind wandering as he worked, thinking of the documents he had once translated from Urdu to Korean. That had been a fun assignment, not at all dull like this nonsense. Unfortunately translations like that weren’t very common for him. 

Quietly singing a K-pop song to himself as he worked, he ignored the way the guards were staring at him, not really caring what they thought of him. Finishing the two sheets he had started, Siren looked up and saw the stack of paperwork was still exactly where he had left it ten minutes ago. Siren narrowed his eyes and glanced over at Ted who still standing there, not doing anything.

“Are you serious right now, Mr. Roo?!” he said, slamming a hand to his desk. “Do you ever do **anything**?!”

Ted didn’t seem inclined to answer, and Siren scowled at him.

“Why is everybody refusing to talk to me today?” he demanded. “Did Vess put you up to this?!”

Ted simply stared at him silently, and Siren felt his temper beginning to slip.

“**Answer** me!” he ordered, raising his voice. “Explain yourself **right** now or I swear I’m going to fire you, Mr. Roo! You think someone else is going to hire you? You’re going to end up living homeless in Moscow!”

When Ted still said and did nothing, Siren felt himself snap and he threw his mug of cold coffee at him as hard as he could. His aim was terrible however, and he missed by several feet, the mug shattering across Vess’ desk.

“Aw shit…”

Getting up to assess the damage, he crossed the room and saw every paper on Vess’ desk was now drenched in coffee.

“Ted, grab me a rag or something!” he ordered in panic. “Quick!”

When Ted simply stared at him, Siren scowled at him. “**Really** , Ted? You can’t even do **this** for me?”

Ted simply shrugged at him.

“I swear, Ted, I’m going to-”

“Er, here…” said a very uncertain voice beside him.

Glancing over, he saw one of the guards was holding out a roll of paper towel towards him. Siren snatched it and immediately began sopping up the mess, hoping he hadn’t ruined anything important.

“See, at least **someone** here is useful.” he muttered, shooting Ted a glare. “Useless meatsack.”

Tossing the shattered pieces of mug into a garbage can, he dried the papers as best he could, and then looked them over. They were stained but luckily still legible. Vess was still going to be furious, but at least nothing had been ruined.

He tossed the paper towel into the garbage can and then glanced over at the guards. Both men were staring at him with wide eyes like they were frightened of him, and he sighed. Why was everyone always acting like that around him? Yes, he had a foul temper, but he was also only 5’2 and not exactly a threat to anyone. Why was V.I.L.E hiring such pathetic people lately? Rolling his eyes, he headed back for his desk and took a seat.

He didn’t really feel like doing any more paperwork right now, but also didn’t feel like doing anything else. He was agitated now, and he glared over at Ted, blaming him entirely. He really needed to fire him, but he always seemed to forget once he got distracted. 

Reaching up a hand to run it through his hair, his fingers got tangled in his rat’s nest of a haircut, and he shook his hand to free it from the mess. He really needed to get his hair cut one of these days before it became completely out of control. Siren tended to get distracted by work, and so his personal grooming was sometimes less than spectacular.

“Oh, thank god.” one of the guards suddenly said.

Siren glanced up to see Dr. Vess entering the room, looking tired and somewhat irritable.

“Doc, he’s going nuts again.” the guard whispered a bit too loudly.

Siren scowled. What a bunch of tattletales V.I.L.E hired. This new batch of guards were pathetic cowards. 

“Oh?” Dr. Vess questioned. “How so?”

“He’s screaming at Ted again, and he threw a coffee mug across the room.”

Vess glanced over at him, and Siren quickly looked away, pretending to be busy with his paperwork.

Dr. Vess let out a deep sigh, and then approached his desk. “Are you yelling at Ted again?” he demanded. “We’ve talked about this.”

Siren scowled and tossed a handful of papers to his desk. “I’m firing Ted.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Dr. Vess scolded impatiently.

“He does absolutely nothing all day besides stand there looking stupid!” Siren cried, pointing at finger at Ted. “Just **look** at him! Completely useless!”

Dr. Vess glanced over to humour him, and then his gaze fell on his own workspace. His eyes immediately narrowed to angry slits, and he quickly crossed the room to his desk. He picked up a piece of stained paperwork and then held it up towards Siren who quickly averted his gaze.

“It was an accident, I was aiming for Ted...sorry.”

Dr. Vess pinched the bridge of his nose, took a deep breath and then once again approached Siren’s desk. 

“Have you been sitting here since I left?” he demanded.

Siren scratched at his head. “Uh…yes.”

“I’ve been gone for two days, Siren.” Dr. Vess informed him in exasperation.

Siren was surprised. He’d gotten so engrossed in his work that he hadn’t even noticed it had been that long.

Dr. Vess looked him up and down. “Have you eaten or drinken **anything** since I left?” he demanded.

Siren turned his gaze to a half-eaten sandwich on his desk, and once again Dr. Vess sighed.

“That’s the same sandwich you were eating three days ago.” he commented.

“I did a lot of translations while you were gone.” Siren said, proudly pointing to the stack.

This caught the doctor’s interest and he immediately reached for the pile. He flipped through them and then frowned at the two sheets on top.

“Siren, what is **this**?” he demanded, sounding fed up as he held up the two pieces of paper towards him.

“What do you mean?”

“Take a look and you tell **me**.”

Siren took the two sheets and glanced at them and then winced. He had accidentally translated them from Russian to Korean.

“Oops.”

“Okay, you are going to go eat something, take a shower and then go to bed before you destroy anything else.”

Siren began pulling the sandwich towards himself and Dr. Vess quickly shoved the plate away from him.

“How you’ve managed to live this long is beyond me, Siren.” he snapped. “Don’t fucking eat the E. Coli sandwich.”

“What about Ted?” Siren demanded. “Are you going to fire him? He’s useless, distracting, and I don’t want him here anymore.”

“Go, Siren, **now**.” Dr. Vess ordered, his tone completely fed up. “Go eat something.”

Siren glanced back at the sandwich and the doctor shoved it into the trashcan. “Seriously, Siren? No. Go eat food that won’t kill you.”

Grumbling irritably to himself, Siren glared at Ted and then headed for the door, noting how the guards were quick to get out of his way. He gave them a glare too, and despite being a foot shorter than them, they stepped back from him. Siren shook his head. Cowards.

Dr. Vess watched his lab partner leave the room, and then let out a loud sigh. Turning to the guards he gave them a hard look.

“You two stood there and allowed him to starve himself?! You know how focused in his work he gets.”

“We’re not his babysitter.” one of the guards grumbled. “I’m not paid enough to deal with his level of crazy. He shouldn’t be allowed to work here, it makes the lab a hostile work environment.”

Dr. Vess narrowed his eyes. “Who do you suppose is more valuable to V.I.L.E, a scientist who has an eidetic memory, or a dime-a-dozen **guard** ? Who do **you** think is more likely to be fired if there’s ever an incident?”

The guard grimaced. 

“**Exactly** .” Dr. Vess snapped. “I suggest you keep your opinions to yourself. Siren is your superior, and if I **ever** hear you gossiping or bad-mouthing about him again, **you** will be the one getting fired, do I make myself clear?”

The guard quickly nodded and kept his gaze firmly on the floor.

“Good.”

Dr. Vess gave him one last glare and then headed for his desk. Brushing the damaged papers aside, he pulled out his chair, and took a seat. He then immediately realized there had been a puddle of coffee on the chair as it seeped through his pants.

“Oh, for god’s sake.” he snapped. 

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Neal was being obnoxiously loud again, but Team Red was ignoring him for the moment, their attention fully on the television screen. The mood in the room was sober, and no one said a single word as they watched the reporter approach the gate of a prison.

“This is Tanya Walker reporting live from the Poitiers Penitentiary in France. Earlier this morning there was a prison break and a convict is now on the loose in Poitiers. He is presumed armed and dangerous and if seen, do not approach and do not engage. Call your local police department to report the sighting. The convict’s name is Michael Philip Finnegan Jr and he is a 22 year old Caucasian male standing at 5’8 with medium length brown hair, brown eyes and multiple facial piercings.”

Team Red stared at the mugshot that appeared on the screen, and then exchanged a long look with one another.

“No one tell Mime Bomb about this.” Carmen stated. “We keep this under wraps unless we absolutely **have** to tell him. If he knows his torturer is out free and walking, I don’t know what that will do to him.” 

“We need to go after him.” Chase announced, crossing his arms. “We can’t just ignore this.”

“I agree,” Carmen told him. “But there’s more at play than just one man breaking out of prison. It would have taken a lot to get him out of the prison unseen by the cameras or guards. This was a big job with a lot of people involved.”

“V.I.L.E?” Le Chèvre guessed.

“Perhaps.” Shadows said thoughtfully. “Or it could be the Irish Mafia.”

“We’ll have to carefully investigate this.” Carmen responded, her eyes still on the screen.

“**HEY** !” came a bellow from the basement. “ **HEY, HEY, HEY, HEY, HEY!**”

There was a collective sigh in the room.

Tigress flexed the claws on her gloves thoughtfully. “He can’t talk if he has no vocal chords.” she commented.

“No, Sheena, we’re not going to hurt him just because he’s trying to annoy us.”

“Trying?!” Le Chèvre snapped. “I was annoyed **yesterday**. Today, I’m ready to strangle him.”

“He hasn’t slept either.” Ivy pointed out. “I’ve been keeping him awake all day and so he should be too tired to bug us during the night. We just gotta make sure he doesn’t sleep until tonight, and then he should pass out the same time as the rest of us.”

“...I’m going to slip a sleeping pill into his supper just to be sure.” Tigress commented.

“No, you’re not drugging him, Sheena. Honestly.” Carmen said with a sigh. “He’s annoying but he’s not hurting anyone.”

“Says you.” Tigress snapped. “I have bags under my eyes!”

“We have to meet with Crackle in a few minutes. Who’s going to stay to watch Neal to make sure we don’t have a repeat of last time?”

“I’ll do it.” El Topo volunteered. “Jean Paul’s breathing was bad last night and so I’m going to stay here with him. I’ll watch after Neal at the same time.”

Tigress let out a snort. “Good luck.”

Le Chèvre looked sullen as El Topo said this, and it was clear he didn’t want to remain behind. His chest was sounding a bit rattly with every breath, and everyone knew he would need to spend a bit of time resting with his oxygen mask.

“After the meeting with Crackle, we’re going to see if we can track down where they’ve been hiding out, and then we’ll stop and bring supper home.” Carmen told El Topo and Le Chèvre. “We shouldn’t be more than a couple hours.”

“**HELLOOOOO!** ” Neal bellowed from the basement. “ **I’M BORED! SOMEONE COME TALK TO ME!**”

El Topo rolled his eyes. “I’ll go keep him company for a while.” he told them. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Don’t let him sleep.” Ivy warned him.

“I know, I know.” he responded. “I’m going to bring down my tablet, and maybe watch a movie with him to keep him quiet so Le Chèvre can rest for a while.”

“The internet has been blocked on it, I presume?” Shadowsan asked.

“Of course.” El Topo answered. “There are only a few dozen movies and games on it and no internet.”

Shadowsan gave him a nod as Le Chèvre slowly got up from the couch. Le Chèvre was angry and embarrassed, but he didn’t say anything, knowing it was pointless. He would be useless on the mission in his current state, and he knew he needed to rest while using the oxygen tank until his breathing had improved. As he headed out of the room, El Topo quickly got up to follow him.

El Topo knew Le Chèvre was upset, and once they were alone in their room together, he reached out and took his partner by his hand. Le Chèvre glanced down at him in question and El Topo gave him a smile.

“After you rest for a while, we could spend some alone time together, mi amor.” he suggested. “Just the two of us for a change. How does that sound?”

Le Chèvre knew that El Topo was just trying to cheer him up and he let out a sigh and then offered him a smile. “Sure, mon amour, that sounds wonderful.” he replied, sitting down on his bed as El Topo reached for the nearby oxygen mask.

El Topo turned on the tank and then held out the mask towards Le Chèvre who reluctantly took it from him. As he fit it over his face and took a deep breath, his chest immediately felt a bit less tight. He leaned back in bed and looked up at El Topo who was doing a bad job of hiding his worry.

“I feel better already.” Le Chèvre assured him. “After a nap, I’m sure I’ll be perfectly fine.”

“I’ll just be down in the basement if you need me.” El Topo told him, reaching for his tablet. “Let me know once you wake up and I’ll come spend some time with you.”

Le Chèvre gave him a nod, and El Topo reached forward and lifted the oxygen mask so he could steal a kiss. Le Chèvre laughed and returned the kiss, and then replaced the mask before he began to get wheezy again.

“Sleep well, mi amor, I’ll do my best to keep Neal quiet.”

“Merci, Antonio.”

Le Chèvre leaned back against his pillows with a yawn, and El Topo headed for the door, unable to stop a yawn of his own. Rubbing at his eyes, he gave a shake of his head in an attempt to wake up, and then walked down the hallway towards the living room. The rest of Team Red were still talking amongst each other and as El Topo passed them by, Carmen smiled at him.

“Thank you for volunteering to stay behind.” she told him.

“It is okay, mi amiga, I don’t mind.” he told her, completely meaning it. “I’ll be fine.”

El Topo opened the basement door and then started down, powering on the tablet as he did so. Neal finally went quiet as he descended the stairs and when he got to the bottom, he saw Neal was looking a bit sullen.

“Kia Ora, Antonio.” he greeted.

“Hello, Neal.” El Topo greeted amiably. “How is your leg doing?”

Neal glanced down at his foot and gave a shrug. “I’ve had worse... Are you going to talk to me for a while?”

El Topo crossed the basement, and to Neal’s surprise, he took a seat beside him on the mattress. “I’ll keep you company for a while, but I was hoping we could talk about something…”

Neal leaned against the support beam behind him, and gave him a curious look. “Oh?”

El Topo stared at Neal for a moment and then frowned. “We used to be friends, Neal. You were always someone I could count on to help me when I needed it.”

“Used to be?” Neal questioned, raising a brow. “I didn’t realize I’d been dumped as a friend. Ouch.”

El Topo let out a sigh. “You know this is how it has to be. We’re on opposite sides now, and we are enemies.”

Neal gave him a shrug. “I suppose you’re right, love.”

El Topo then turned to face him fully. “But it doesn’t have to be that way.”

Neal gave him a skeptical look. 

“You could join us.” Antonio told him.

Neal let out a snort. 

“Why not?” El topo demanded. “I know you’re not a bad person, Neal, and I know you don’t want to kill us. Why are you still with V.I.L.E? You can just wash your hands of them and join us.”

Neal stared at him in silence for a moment, and then said. “It’s not that easy, Antonio.”

“It **is** !” El Topo insisted. “We won’t let anything happen to you, and you **will** be safe with us. V.I.L.E won’t be able to retaliate against you. You’ll like it here with us, we are a family here.”

“Sorry, Antonio.”

El Topo frowned at him. “Why?” he demanded. “**Why** do you want to stay with V.I.L.E? You don’t even like any of the head faculty!”

Neal let out a deep sigh, his expression settling into a resigned look. “Leaving was easy for **you**, Antonio, you were only with V.I.L.E for a couple years. I’ve spent almost half my life with them, and honestly it’s all I know at this point. I enjoy the thrill of the missions, and I enjoy the rush from the fights. I don’t even know what I’d be without V.I.L.E, and I don’t care to find out.”

El Topo shook his head. “You can start over with us.” he insisted. “You’re not evil, and there’s a place for you here. Join us, Neal.”

Neal shook his head. “I don’t **want** to leave V.I.L.E, Antonio. I know what V.I.L.E is doing is wrong, but I also don’t agree with what **your** team is doing. You’re a bunch of vigilantes that are running around committing crimes in the name of ‘justice’. Because of your team, V.I.L.E has actually stepped up their game, which is why **my** team was formed. Things are just going to keep escalating until you either destroy each other or one of you wins. Either way it’s going to get ugly.”

El Topo shook his head. “No, what Team Red is doing is **right**. V.I.L.E has to be stopped.”

Neal stared at him with lidded eyes and then let out another sigh. “I’m thirty-two years old, Antonio. How many operatives can you think of that made it to their thirties?”

El Topo furrowed his brow. “There’s a few…” he answered as he began trying to mentally count them, quickly realizing the number was alarmingly small.

The senior agents were less than a dozen out of hundreds of operatives…El Topo’s eyes widened as he realized how many operatives must have died or been arrested if there were forty graduates every single year. There were over four hundred operatives in total, and if only a dozen made it over the age of thirty, then that left possibly thousands dead or simply gone. El Topo had never thought about it before, and it was really depressing.

Neal saw his expression and smiled. “**Exactly**.” he stated. “Most operatives don’t survive their first five years with V.I.L.E. I never really expected to make it this long to be honest. I always kind of pictured myself dying in an explosion or some other dramatic fashion...maybe a plane crash. That seems fitting.”

“Neal…”

“There’s a **reason** why V.I.L.E faculty only turned to the older operatives when trying to replace Shadowsan. We’re all survivors, and allegedly the best the organization has to offer. We beat the odds and succeeded whereas the rest of our classmates failed.”

El Topo’s frown deepened. “That’s terrible.” he commented.

“All of their assumptions about us is complete tosh however, and just because we’re survivors doesn’t mean we’re any good at running V.I.L.E. The example I will use is Otterman. He and I share a birthday and he’s hilariously bad at his job. We’re **lucky**, not special.”

“Then why stay with them?” El Topo said, unable to understand. “Why stay when you know you’re probably going to die? Do you **want** to die?”

Neal went silent for a moment. “No.” he finally answered. “But I also can’t see myself as an old man. What happens when I’m past my prime, when I can no longer fight?”

El Topo stared at him with wide eyes and Neal let out a laugh and clapped him on the shoulder. “Relax, Antonio, I knew what I was getting into when I joined V.I.L.E. I’ve been with them almost 15 years, and I’ve had a blast.”

El Topo shook his head. “But it doesn’t have to be this way! You could join us, and you would never have to worry about **anything** like this again! That letter you gave me last year...Neal that’s really messed up. You **need** to leave V.I.L.E.”

Neal narrowed his eyes. “You read it?”

El Topo had the grace to look sheepish. “...I was curious. Sorry.”

Neal rolled his eyes, and then sighed. “And you never told anyone about what you learned?”

El Topo shook his head. “Of course not, we were **friends**, Neal, and I don’t betray friends.”

“You were always too good for V.I.L.E Antonio. Most other operatives would have used that information to blackmail me. Dash Haber certainly tried.”

“That letter, Neal...is that really how you want your brother to find out you died? Through a ten page apology letter?! Do you **really** think that’s fair to him? You need to leave V.I.L.E before you hurt Adam by dying or getting arrested.”

“**Don’t** .” Neal warned him, tone losing all levity. “You **don’t** use my brother against me.”

“I’m sorry.” El Topo said genuinely. “I’m just trying to understand. You’re not a bad person, and you don’t deserve to die, and I **don’t** want to see you get arrested either. We both made a mistake when we joined V.I.L.E, but it’s not too late.”

Neal stared at him in disbelief, and then amusement. “Antonio love, I **am** a bad person. I might smile, and I might joke, but at the end of the day I’m still a thief and a murderer. You were a young operative and never had to kill anyone. Eventually everyone in V.I.L.E is forced to take their first life.”

It was hard to imagine Neal ever hurting anyone, but El Topo knew this was the truth. V.I.L.E had ordered him and Le Chèvre to kill Mime Bomb and they had been fully prepared to do it. They had almost become murderers themselves, and so he was sympathetic to the villain. 

“You do not want to kill us.” El Topo said with certainty. “You saved Julia twice at the parking garage, and then you saved Zack from the woodchipper. Those aren’t the actions of a bad person.”

“No one **wants** to kill people, Antonio...well except for maybe Paper Star. I’m a bit worried about that one to be honest.” Neal responded.

“Please, Neal, you know this is not going to end well for you. V.I.L.E is not going to last forever. Join us, and you will finally be free from V.I.L.E’s clutches. Join us and you can even return home to your brother.”

Neal heaved another sigh. “I was eighteen years old when I became an operative. If V.I.L.E erases my memories of them, they will take nearly fifteen years of memories from me. I’d be left with the mind of a teenager in the body of a thirty-two year old. They might as well just kill me at that point.”

“We won’t let them.” El Topo assured him. “V.I.L.E will never get their mitts on you, and your memories are safe.”

Neal stared at him long and hard, and then suddenly laughed. “Well, Antonio, you are certainly determined.”

El Topo offered him a smile. “It is because I still remember how you helped me during training. You worked with me every night for an entire week until I was ready to take my first term exams. You were a senior operative who did not have to do that, but you took pity on me.”

Neal gave him a smirk. “Actually, love, I was hitting on you...that is until I found out about tall, dark and grouchy. I backed off then, but you were a nice kid, and so I continued helping you out.”

El Topo’s cheeks coloured. “...oh.”

Neal expression slipped back into a cheeky grin, and he elbowed El Topo with good nature. “I’m just joking, love.”

El Topo laughed. “Oh! Good! You had me a bit worried there!”

Neal smirked. “Or was I?”

El Topo stared at him with wide eyes, now having no idea what to think. Neal, however, looked entirely too pleased with himself, and then gave a long and lazy stretch.

“I’m not going to stop asking you to join us, you know.” El Topo informed him. “I will ask every day until you give in.”

Neal rolled his eyes. “Okay, **fine**, love, you win.”

El Topo blinked. “...what?”

“I said you win. I’ll join Team Vigilante.”

“Wait...really?” El Topo asked in surprise.

“Sure.” Neal replied, an odd sort of smile on his lips that El Topo didn’t trust.

“You’re serious?”

“Sure.” Neal repeated.

El Topo narrowed his eyes. “It is not that I don’t trust you...but, well…”

Neal swiped a hand over his chest. “Cross my heart.”

El Topo stared at him suspiciously, thinking Neal had given in a bit too easily. “You’re not lying to me, mi amigo?”

“Of course not.”

“You are going to join us?”

“Absolutely.” Neal replied. “As soon as the rest of my team joins as well.”

“Ugh, I knew it.” El Topo complained.

“That’s the only way I will ever join Team Sheep.” Neal responded with a shrug. “The day all five of my teammates join you, I will as well.”

El Topo let out a weary sigh knowing when he was beaten. “Alright.” he said reluctantly. “I will stop asking for now.”

“Any chance of you letting me go?”

“None.” El Topo answered, picking up his tablet. “I will keep you company for a while though. Do you want to watch a movie?”

Neal edged a bit closer to him. “Yeah.” he said, not expecting this. “It’s rather boring down here by myself.”

El Topo swiped a finger across the screen to bring up the movies and then handed the tablet to Neal. “Go ahead and choose whatever you want.”

Neal stared at the list of movies and instead of looking at titles, he began looking at the run-times to find the longest movie El Topo had. He didn’t care what they watched as long as it filled some of the boring nothingness of the basement.

“This one.” he declared, clicking on Cleopatra. 

El Topo raised an amused brow. “That movie is over five hours long.” he pointed out.

“I have nothing better to do.” Neal responded with a shrug.

El Topo gave him a shrug. “Okay then. Cleopatra it is.”

They sat close together so they could both see the screen, and as it played, Neal gave a yawn. El Topo yawned as well and then chuckled.

“Jean Paul is pretty mad at you for keeping him awake last night.” he said.

Neal laughed. “Not you though, love?”

“Honestly, I did not mind the story and probably could have slept through it, but it was Jean Paul’s angry ranting that kept me awake.”

“Sorry, but I have no intentions of being a peaceful prisoner.”

“It is not going to work, mi amigo, they’re not going to just let you go. You’re only going to make things worse for yourself.”

Neal shrugged. “Well, we’ll just have to see who outlasts who then, won’t we?”

As the movie started they fell silent and simply watched, both exhausted and not really wanting to talk any more. It only took twenty minutes into the movie for them both to fall asleep, and they slept through the entire movie. When Le Chèvre finally came down to see what was taking El Topo so long, he stared at the two men passed out on the mattress, rolled his eyes with a sigh and simply left again. So much for keeping Neal awake...

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**Next update will hopefully within a week.**

**All credit for these gorgeous pics goes to these wonderful artists!**

**Violetfic** ** is responsible for the Michael Jr. Mugshot pic. Dr. Vesalius is owned by ** **Violetfic** **, and I am using him with her permission.**

**Coulrosaurus** ** is responsible for the OtterMoose pic.**

**Credit for the names of Otterman and Moose Boy go to ** **Animedemon01**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**

**Please don't forget to let me know what you think!**


	17. Spinning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone!
> 
> I'm going to be taking a week off from writing and so the next chapter will be in 2 weeks on Feb. 12th.
> 
> I'm really hoping you guys like this chapter, because I worked extremely hard on it this week! Another tiny chapter for you guys (yeah right) and it's roughly 20k words. An enormous thank you to Violetfic for being my beta and offering VERY good suggestions to help improve this chapter.
> 
> Please note that Dr. Vess uses the F-word extremely frequently in his everyday speech. You have been warned.
> 
> If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 17**

**Spinning**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Siren awoke with a start when his alarm went off, and he stared at the clock uncomprehendingly for a moment, before he reached out and hit the snooze button. He did that five more times until finally he found the motivation to actually move. Rolling out of bed, he rubbed at his eyes tiredly and then realized he had fallen asleep still fully dressed. He had one sneaker off and apparently that’s as far as he got when undressing before he’d passed out on top of his bed. 

Now that he wasn’t so exhausted, he felt absolutely disgusting and headed for his bathroom to take a shower. Peeling off his dirty clothes, he stepped into the shower and then turned it on, flinching at the hot water as he adjusted the temperature. He then just stood there for a few minutes enjoying the heat before he finally reached for the soap. Singing a jaunty folk song, he washed thoroughly and then reached for the shampoo. His hair was oily and matted, and he grimaced as he washed it, knowing he’d have to deal with it at some point. 

Just as he finished rinsing his hair, the water suddenly went icy cold and he yelped and quickly jumped out of the shower. He scowled and turned the shower off, knowing he had reached his daily hot water allowance. V.I.L.E was a multi-billion dollar organization, but yet they were incredibly cheap when it came to their operatives. Twenty minutes of hot water was all he was allowed, and even that was a lot more than most operatives. He knew most employees at the lab got five minutes of hot water, but the scientists and doctors were allowed twenty.

Drying himself off, he stared at the mirror at his horrible hair and then hesitantly picked up a brush. He winced as he attempted to run it through his matted hair, but the brush became stuck and he couldn’t get it out.

“Ow, ow, ow...” he complained as he tried to pry it out

Cursing under his breath, he managed to get the brush loose, and then frowned at his shoulder length hair. He really needed to get his hair cut one of these days. Short hair was much easier to manage but most of the time he was too busy to bother with personal grooming. Doing his best to at least make his hair a little more presentable, he worked at it for a few minutes, but it was pretty much hopeless. Giving up, he shaved the stubble from his face, brushed his teeth and then got dressed.

Northern Siberia was **always** cold and Siren didn’t have much body fat to help protect him from the bitter air. He always wore several layers under his lab coat, but even then he was never completely comfortable. He and Vess had constantly fought over the thermostat in the lab, Vess always too hot and Siren always too cold. After dozens of arguments, they had finally decided on a temperature in the middle. Neither were comfortable, but at least it was bearable.

Knowing he was already late, Siren decided to forgo breakfast and instead wandered through the halls in the direction of the lab. Humming loudly to himself as he walked, he passed by the medical bay and then paused when something red caught his attention. Staring down at the floor, he saw a small toy car simply sitting there by itself. 

Frowning in confusion, he stepped into the room and knelt down to pick it up. Turning the car over in his hands, he glanced around the empty room, wondering where it had come from. Using his thumb to spin one of the wheels, he stared at it for a moment and then peeked behind the curtains to make sure there were no patients there. The room was indeed empty, which then raised a few questions in his mind. Why was there a toy car in a V.I.L.E run facility? Did a patient drop it? Was there a child somewhere in the building?

He spun one of the wheels as he thought, and then gave a shrug, figuring he’d return the car later to whoever had dropped it. Continuing his humming, he left the medical bay and headed for the lab, not looking forward to another long and boring day of translations. 

The guards at the door to the lab stepped aside as he entered, and Dr. Vess looked up at him briefly. Siren immediately noticed the doctor wasn’t doing paperwork and seemed to be testing some sort of ointment. Knowing whatever Vess was doing was far more interesting than translations, he headed over to Vess’ desk to be nosy.

Vess gave him another glance as Siren looked down at what he was doing, and the doctor’s gaze immediately settled on the car in Siren’s hand.

“Getting in touch with your inner child?” he questioned dryly.

Siren turned the car over in his hand. “Oh, I found this on the floor. Does it belong to a patient?”

Vess clearly wasn’t interested and gave him a shrug. “It probably belongs to the patient in Room B1-12. I gave her the year four boosters yesterday.”

Siren had forgotten about the little girl in room B1-12, and frowned down at the car. “I’ll return it to her after work,” he stated, placing the car into his lab coat pocket. “What are you working on? Is this the burn ointment?”

“No,” Vess answered distractedly, “This is a new cream I’m coming up with for severe psoriasis. It shows promise, but it’s still not quite right.”

“Can I see the chemical compounds?” Siren asked eagerly.

Vess spared him a glance and then looked him up and down, noting that he had cleaned himself up. “Did you eat today?” he demanded, “You look pale.”

“Yes.”

Dr. Vess narrowed his eyes. “Are you lying to me?”

“No,” Siren answered, pulling a chair over so he could join him. “Who is the cream for?”

“No one yet,” Vess replied with a sigh, “I’m just experimenting for right now.”

“Doesn’t B1-3 have psoriasis?”

Vess nodded. “He does,” he acknowledged, “But he can’t use anything with steroids because of his heart condition. If I ever get this composition right, I’m thinking of marketing it.”

Siren reached over the desk and pulled the stack of papers towards himself so he could take a look. Vess glared at him but didn’t comment, used to Siren’s nosiness after ten years of working together. He simply sighed and went back to what he was doing. Siren flipped through the pages and quickly committed them to memory so he could put a bit of thought into them later.

He watched closely as Vess measured out various chemicals, and after a few minutes, the doctor glanced at him again.

“Siren, you have your own work to do,” he pointed out, “I don’t need you breathing on my experiment. I can manage this on my own.”

“Vess, you’re such an ass,” Siren commented, purposely poking at various things on the desk to bug the other man.

“And you’re a flake,” Vess responded, slapping his hand away without looking up. “Go do something productive and stop distracting me.”

Rolling his eyes with a sigh, Siren got up from his chair and headed to his own desk where a mountain of paperwork waited for him. Plunking himself down into his chair, he stared at the paperwork and then let out a groan of complaint. The stack was even taller than it was yesterday.

Sighing, he grabbed a handful of papers and then reached for a pen. Knowing there was no point in complaining about it, he simply began to hum to himself as he began his first translation. Now that he wasn’t so tired, he was able to go through a fairly large stack of translations over the next couple hours, but he was still bored out of his mind. His humming evolved into quiet singing as he worked and he heard a sigh of exasperation come from Vess. 

“Right, I’m going to lunch,” Vess commented, getting up from his desk. “I’m not going to sit here and listen to you singing country songs. Get it out of your system and I’ll be back in an hour.”

“You’re just jealous,” Siren responded in amusement.

“Oh, that’s definitely it,” Vess stated, rolling his eyes. “Don’t touch my desk while I’m gone. I **will** know, and I **will** slap you.”

Siren let out a snort. “I’m not going to touch your precious experiment. I’m busy with my own work.”

Vess narrowed his eyes, but headed for the door all the same. “V.I.L.E expects at least a hundred pages from you today,” he informed him, “I suggest you don’t slack off.”

“Go away, Vess.”

The doctor gave another roll of his eyes, and then left the room without another word. No one else would have **ever** dared speak to Dr. Vess in that way, but Siren had worked with him long enough to know how far he could push him. They both had foul tempers and they both were impatient and rude, but they had an understanding. They were coworkers, and so they had learned to tolerate one another. What Vess didn't know was that Siren had already completed over 100 translations and so he was done work for the day.

As soon as the door closed, Siren was instantly to his feet and heading for Vess’ workspace.

“He told you not to touch anything,” one of the guards told him, “I’ll be forced to report this as soon as the doctor returns.”

“I’m not touching anything, **Kevin**, I’m just looking,” Siren snapped, glaring at him.

“My name’s not Kevin,” the guard responded, “It’s Terry.”

“Do I look like I care, Kevin?” Siren responded rudely, “Go back to standing there doing nothing.”

The guard scowled at him, seriously detesting Siren in every possible way. “I’m telling Vess,” he repeated.

“Go right ahead, you snitch!” Siren snapped, quickly becoming agitated. 

“Terry, stop it,” the other guard whispered, “He hasn’t touched anything.”

Siren glanced at her, realizing this was a new guard. “Where’s Other-Kevin?” he demanded, “I don’t know you.”

“Sergei...quit,” she supplied, “I’m your new guard.”

Siren gave a nod and quickly lost interest. “Listen to Girl-Kevin, Kevin, she seems to have a few braincells left rattling around in there.”

“Girl-Kevin?” she whispered, glancing to her partner.

Terry rolled his eyes. “He’s an asshole who can’t be arsed to remember our names and so all guards are Kevin, all receptionists are Linda, all cleaning staff are Peggy, all the cooks are Olga, and everyone else is John. I’ve been trying to get him to say my name for like six months now.”

“And I can hear you, Kevin,” Siren responded, his gaze on the paperwork on Vess’ desk. “I’m not deaf.”

The female guard frowned for a moment, and then strode across the room. She then held out her hand towards Siren who glanced up at her like she was grime on the bottom of his shoe.

“_ Здравствуйте _,” she said in a respectful tone, “My name is Natasha.”

“_ Уходи _,” Siren responded irritably, glancing back to the desk.

“Don’t be like that,” Natasha said, keeping her tone friendly, “We’ll be working together, and I thought I should introduce myself.”

“Go away,” Siren repeated, this time in English.

Siren was reading the papers closely, and he immediately spotted an error Vess had missed. Unable to resist the urge to correct it, he grabbed a pen and fixed the formula, tuning out the guard as she continued trying to engage him in conversation. He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, and the unexpected contact startled him and he jerked back, nearly stumbling over his own feet.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Natasha apologized, “I didn’t mean to scare you!”

Siren flushed, and was instantly defensive. “You didn’t scare me!” he snarled, “I just wasn’t expecting to be touched!”

“Sooo, you were scared,” Terry commented in amusement.

“Shut your mouth, Kevin!”

“I’m sorry,” Natasha said again, “I was just trying to talk to you.”

Siren glared at her and then mock dusted himself off. He really detested the guards in this lab, and wished he didn’t have to interact with them.

“Leave me alone, Girl-Kevin.” Siren snapped, walking away from Vess’ desk to cross the room. “Have you seen, Ted?”

She cocked her head. “Ted?”

Siren heaved a sigh. “Ted Roo, he’s my assistant,” he said irritably, “They really don’t prepare you damn guards very well, do they? He’s kind of hard to miss, brown hair, built like a tank and like seven feet tall?”

Natasha then gave a nod. “Ohhhh, yes, **Ted**, of course! No, sorry, I haven’t seen him.”

“Dr. Vess sent him to the lower basement early this morning,” Terry responded, earning him a surprised look from Natasha.

Siren let out an irritated sigh. “What? Why?”

Terry gave him a shrug. “No idea, but I think it was important.”

“Am I getting another assistant to use for the day?” Siren demanded.

“Not to my knowledge,” Terry answered with a shrug.

Siren heaved another sigh. Considering how much he had complained about Ted the day before, he wasn’t surprised Vess was keeping him out of his sight for a while. “I need someone to help me with research today…”

“You could always go down there and get him,” Terry said in a teasing tone of voice.

Siren hesitated. He thought of the lower basement where it was extremely dark, damp and absolutely terrifying, and he shuddered. He **hated** going to the lower basement.

Terry then leaned in to whisper in Natasha’s ear. “He’s scared of the dark.”

Siren flushed scarlet and he was instantly in a rage. Without even saying a single word he began flinging things at Terry as hard as he could, who simply stood there, allowing the objects to bounce harmlessly off his helmet. Siren then snarled several obscenities at the other man, and then stomped back to his desk, embarrassed and angry. He **really** hated guards.

“Told you,” Terry said with a smirk.

Siren visibly bristled. “Don’t be stupid!” he snarled, “I have no problem with the lower basement!”

Terry’s smirk grew. “Then go.” he dared.

“Terry, stop it.” Natasha hissed at him. “You’re being mean, and you’re going to get yourself fired.”

“You’re not going to make friends with him,” Terry informed her, “Siren **has** no friends for good reason.”

Siren glared at him and wished he was a bit bigger so he could challenge the other man to a fight. He wasn’t an idiot and knew he’d never win against someone a foot taller than him.

“Maybe I **will **go get him!” he snapped.

“You don’t have to, Siren,” Natasha told him kindly, “Don’t pay Terry any mind.”

“Shut up, Girl-Kevin.” Siren ordered, opening his desk drawer.

He grabbed his Ipod out of the drawer and then put his headphones on. Glaring at the two guards angrily, he stormed from the room without a word. He could hear Terry’s laughter follow him down the hall, and so he turned his music on to drown it out. Turning the volume up high enough to block out all noise, he headed for the nearby elevator. 

Placing his hand to the terminal at the elevator, it opened for him and he typed in a code so no one else could summon the elevator while he was using it. Stepping onto the elevator, he pressed the very bottom button for the lower basement.

“**Authorization Needed: Please place your hand on the terminal**”

Siren saw the words on the screen and then placed his hand on the terminal.

“**Welcome, Siren, please speak into the microphone for voice authentication**.” 

“Fuck off!” Siren snarled, impatiently.

“**Voice authentication accepted**.”

As the elevator began descending, Siren felt a nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. Only a few seconds later, the elevator dinged and the door opened to pure darkness. Siren stared at the emptiness in front of him, and took a step backwards, feeling like something was lurking just out of sight. The lower basement didn’t have electricity and there were no windows at all. He backed up another step and felt his back hit the wall, his gaze never leaving the inky blackness in front of him.

The door closed again and instantly Siren felt like an idiot. Taking a deep breath, he hit the button to open the door and as soon as he saw the darkness, he felt another wave of fear come over him. There could be someone standing just out of his sight and he’d have no idea. The longer he stared at the darkness, the more intense his fear became until finally the door closed again.

Cursing at himself angrily, Siren knew he was being a ridiculous coward. Glancing down at his Ipod, he scrolled through his music until he found the most chipper and happy music he could. Pressing play, Aqua began blasting through his headphones at full volume. Turning the Ipod’s flashlight on, he took a deep breath and steeled himself as he pressed the door button.

The elevator door opened and he shone the light out, revealing the damp hallway in front of him. Stepping out of the elevator, he focused on the music, trying to ignore how he was already tensing up. He was an educated man, and he knew there was nothing in the darkness, but still he couldn’t stop a shiver of fear make its way down his spine as he started walking.

Where would Ted be if he was down here? The lower basement was almost entirely empty and so Siren wasn’t even sure where to look. His best guess would be the file room which was where most of his paperwork came from. The old building had been destroyed right when he first joined V.I.L.E, and they’d been trying to recover from it ever since. Valuable research had been lost and every server and computer had been destroyed in the fire. Siren was there to translate any and all paperwork that survived in the chance the research could somehow be recovered. Most of the paperwork had been too damaged to make out, but there were still millions of pages that survived. He had spent the last ten years translating them. 

He walked and walked through the maze of dark hallways, but saw no signs of his assistant. The file rooms were empty, and so were the nearby offices, and so he continued wandering the halls, knowing Ted had to be down there somewhere. He entered a section of the lower basement he’d never been to before and immediately felt uncertain.

Siren came to the first room in this new section, and shone the light inside, seeing a room that had tiny triangles of foam on the walls. It seemed to be sound-proofing of some sort, but for what reasons, he had no idea. The room was empty, and so he moved on to the next. Every room in this whole wing had similar soundproofing, and the heavy locks on the doors didn’t escape his notice. Most of the rooms were covered in what looked like black ash, and the whole wing was a mess of destroyed furniture and equipment. He stared at what looked like a charred bone laying in the middle of the floor and seriously hoped that’s not what it was. He carefully stepped over it, and continued on, **really** not wanting to be here.

V.I.L.E had a lot of enemies, so what if someone really **was** lurking in the dark? He shone the light around himself in a circle, but it didn’t make him feel any better. He was a scientist, not an operative, and what could he do to fight off an attacker? Not much. He wasn’t tall, he wasn’t strong, and he’d be helpless to stop them. This only made him feel even more nervous and he once again glanced around to make sure no one was hiding in the shadows.

Reaching into his pocket to see if he had anything he could use to defend himself just in case, his fingers touched something small and metal. Pulling it out, he looked down at the toy car and frowned. Having nothing else in his pockets, he held the car in his hand, using his thumb to spin the wheel, hoping if he had something to fiddle with, it would make him feel better.

_ Spin _.

Why would Ted be all the way down this far in the lower basement? What could possibly be in here?!

_ Spin. Spin. _

The song on his Ipod switched to ‘Goodbye to the Circus’ and as the creepy music began to play, Siren’s eyes widened, and he began spinning the wheel faster and faster. It was fine. Everything was fine. There was nothing here. It was just creepy music in a creepy basement.

Siren gave a shudder, feeling more and more terrified as he walked along. This basement looked like something out of a horror movie, and he **hated** horror movies. The music was seriously starting to set him on edge and so he glanced down at his Ipod and switched the song. ‘Halloween’ started playing and he let out a curse and switched the song again only for it to land on ‘Freaky Friday’. Yanking his headphones off, he was suddenly assaulted with the sound of complete silence, and he froze. The silence seemed to press in on him with the darkness, and Siren felt his courage quickly disappearing.

The sound of his panicked breathing was like thunder in his ears, and when there was a metal groan from above him, he nearly had a heart attack. What was that?! There was a creak from down the hall and Siren quickly began to panic, fiddling with the toy car in a desperate attempt to calm down.

_ Spin, spin, spin, spin. _

There was nothing there, it was just the water pipes. Or maybe a rat? There definitely wasn’t a crazy murder clown lurking in the shadows. Siren’s eyes widened. Why did he just think of that?! Cursing his overactive imagination, he sped up his pace. He was not about to be murdered. He was not about to be murdered. He was not about-

There was another creak from somewhere behind him and he felt his heart beginning to pound in his chest.

_ Spin, spin, spin, spin, spin. _

Why was he even down here? Ted was practically useless and he probably could have gotten by without him. He never should have come down here. He was going to die and it was all Ted’s fault.

Siren suddenly stopped walking. Wait a second… Ted didn’t have authorization to come down to the lower level…only the people with top clearance were allowed down here... Vess **couldn’t** have sent him down here...

He stood there for a moment as the realization hit him that he’d been tricked, and he suddenly felt really stupid. 

Siren scowled angrily. Damn that Kevin! Now he looked like a complete idiot! Ted wasn’t even down here! 

There was another groan of pipes above him, and Siren hurried back the way he had come, just wanting to get out of the basement. He then realized he had no idea which of the maze-like hallways he had come from. His brain seemed to have stopped working, and his normally excellent memory was blank from the fear. Panicking, he chose a random direction and hurried down the hall, unable to stop the feeling of something following just behind him. What if something was reaching out for him right now? Maybe he was about to be grabbed and mauled by something horrible?

Gasping, he spun around, but of course there was nothing there. Siren could feel his fear increasing by the second, and he suddenly heard the sound of footsteps coming from somewhere in the basement. Letting out a small noise of distress, he took off running, the darkness seeming to close in on him from all sides. He heard a door bang closed and scrambled desperately just trying to find his way out of hellish basement. Turn after turn he saw no signs of the elevator, and he heard something metal fall and hit the floor somewhere behind him. Someone was in here with him, and they were quickly catching up to him!

He dashed into a nearby room and saw it was some sort of medical lab. Tripping over a stand, he sent it crashing to the floor with a deafening crash and Siren let out a squeal of terror, knowing he had just given away his location. Spotting something glinting on the floor, he saw it was a knife and he dove for it, knowing he was going to have to fight his attacker off. Dropping his Ipod to the floor, he clutched the knife tightly in his hand and scrambled into the corner of the room out of sight.

He spotted the beam from a flashlight shining down the hallway outside, and he tensed up, hoping they wouldn’t come in the room. It was then that Siren realized his Ipod was still lit up and sitting in plain view of the door. He let out a gasp and sure enough the flashlight was suddenly shone into the room. Siren curled himself up into a protective ball as the footsteps approached him, and he began blindly swiping out with the knife as he shrieked in terror.

He suddenly heard a voice and the beam of the flashlight landed on him, and he just kept swinging and shrieking. A hand caught his wrist and Siren started screaming and struggling as if his life depended on it. He then felt a gentle hand brush his hair out of his face, and the soft, reassuring words spoken penetrated his fear. Opening his eyes, he looked up and saw Vess and Ted both kneeling down beside him, expressions concerned. Vess gently cupped Siren’s cheek, his words nothing but reassuring.

“Shh, shh,” Vess hushed softly, “You’re okay, calm down now. Nothing’s going to hurt you.”

Siren felt tears spill over and run down his cheeks, and Vess used a gentle thumb to wipe them away, offering him a smile.

“Give me the knife, Siren,” Vess ordered, “You’re safe, you don’t need the knife. Give it to me now.”

Sobbing in pure relief, Siren clutched at Vess’ hand, allowing the knife to be taken away. Vess tossed the knife across the room, and then took him by the arm.

“Come on,” he said softly, “Let’s get you out of here, alright?”

“Where **were** you?!” Siren cried out angrily towards Ted.

“I was at lunch, you know this,” Vess said patiently.

“No, not **you** !” Siren cried, covering his face with his hands. “ **Ted**!”

“I’m sorry, bro,” Ted told him, “I overslept.”

“Until two in the afternoon?!” Siren bellowed at him, looking at him from between his fingers.

Ted had the good grace to look sheepish. “Sorry…”

“Oh my god I hate you,” Siren moaned.

Vess gently pulled Siren’s hands away from his face and he placed a pill into the palm of Siren’s hand.

“It’s a mild sedative,” Vess told him, “Let’s get you calmed down.”

Siren stared down at the pill and then popped it into his mouth without protest. Vess watched him for a moment, and when he was sure Siren had swallowed it, he held out a hand towards him.

“Come on, let’s get you out of this basement.”

Siren nodded silently, and accepted the hand. Vess helped him up, and Siren immediately clung to Vess’ arm in a vice-like grip.

“Here,” Vess said, pressing his Ipod into his hand. “What in the world are you doing down here? You **know** you have a phobia of the dark!”

Siren said nothing, simply tightening his grip even more, unable to stop shaking in fear.

“I’m sorry,” Ted told him again, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

“Come on, let’s go,” Vess ordered, leading him out of the room. “You need to calm down, alright? I just don’t understand why you even came down here!”

“Kevin…” Siren muttered.

Vess rolled his eyes. “Of **course**, I should have known,” he said with a sigh.

Now that he wasn’t alone, Siren found himself beginning to calm down, but he didn’t loosen his hold on Vess’ arm. Vess glanced down at him, and then let out another sigh.

“You’re a nuisance, Siren.”

“And you’re an ass.” Siren automatically responded.

“Well, looks like you’re feeling a **little** better,” Vess said, trying to disentangle his arm from the other man.

Siren didn’t let go, and so they walked in silence through the dark halls. When the elevator finally came within sight, Siren let out an audible breath of relief, never wanting to step foot in the basement ever again. They stepped into the elevator, and once he was out of the darkness, Siren finally released Vess’ arm, now feeling rather embarrassed. Vess stared down at him for a moment, his expression turning back to its normal impassive look.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you touched my desk.” Vess stated as the doors closed. “We **will** be discussing that later.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Siren responded with a shrug. “Never touched it.”

Vess rolled his eyes. “Wretched goblin.”

“Stuck-up bastard.”

Ted pressed the main level button and nothing happened. He pressed it a few more times and then turned a confused look to Siren. “It’s not working…”

“You’re not authorized, stupid,” Siren informed him. “Of **course** the buttons won’t work for you.”

Vess rolled his eyes and reached out and pressed the main floor button.

“I want to fire Ted, Vess.”

“Aw, bro, not **this** again…”

“I’ve told you not to call me ‘bro’.” Siren snapped. “You don’t talk to superiors that way!”

Vess sighed. “Knock it off, Siren. You’ve caused enough trouble for today.”

As the elevator ascended, Siren fell silent, still feeling embarrassed and angry. He **really** hated the Kevins, and he **really** hated Ted.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

[[I’m sorry, Sven…]] Moose Boy said for the hundredth time.

Otterman rolled away from him and faced the wall, his expression furious, and he didn’t answer. Moose Boy climbed up onto the bed beside him, and laid a gentle hand on his side.

[[Come on, don’t be like this. I’m sorry!]]

Otterman made an impatient noise in the back of his throat and still refused to look at him.

[[It was an accident.]] Moose Boy told him, [[Won’t you please just speak to me?]]

“_ Nej _.” Otterman snapped.

[[Aw, come on, Sven. I didn’t do it on purpose. I’m sorry! Won’t you forgive me?]] Moose Boy pleaded.

“_ Nej _!”

Moose Boy leaned over him so he could see his partner’s face. Otterman was scowling at the wall, and he shot Moose Boy a glare out of the corner of his eye.

[[Come on, let’s just talk about this.]]

“** _Nej_ **!”

[[Do you need a hug?]]

Otterman’s response was to elbow him in the gut without a single word. Moose Boy winced and rubbed at his stomach, knowing the other man was absolutely livid. Used to his partner’s bouts of anger and sulkiness, he set a hand on Otterman’s shoulder, knowing he just had to be persistent.

[[Sven, we’re **going** to talk about this.]] he insisted, [[Look at me.]]

“_ Dra åt helvete!” _

[[**No**.]] Moose Boy said firmly, forcibly turning the other man to face him. [[Talk to me.]]

Otterman stared at him with narrowed eyes. “_ Din jävla dum skalle! _” he hissed, trying to turn back around.

Moose Boy held him in place. [[Enough cursing.]] he scolded. [[I said I was sorry.]]

[[And you think that fixes anything?]] Otterman snapped. [[You’ve screwed everything up as usual! I **never** should have trusted you!]]

Moose Boy gave him an incredibly hurt look. [[I’m sorry I’m stupid, Sven.]] he said in a small voice. [[I know it’s all my fault. I always mess everything up...I’m sorry I’m so dumb.]]

Otterman’s expression softened a bit, but he was still looking pretty cross. [[How did you even forget something so important?!]] he demanded.

Moose Boy looked completely ashamed. [[When you handed the envelope to me, I put it in my jacket pocket so I wouldn’t lose it. I then found out California was a hot place and switched my jacket for a lighter one…]]

Otterman groaned. [[You left the envelope in your winter jacket.]]

“_ Ja _.”

Otterman let out a deep sigh, and raised a hand to his head in exasperation. [[I just don’t know what we’re going to do.]] he admitted. [[That was every bit of cash we were allowed for this mission. We’re not allowed to use credit cards, and we’re not allowed to steal. We are **screwed**.]]

[[I’m sorry.]]

Otterman let out another sigh. [[Do you have cash on you?]]

Moose Boy pulled out his wallet to check. [[I have 200 American dollars and 1000 Krona.]]

Otterman groaned. [[I have 40 American and 2500 Krona in my wallet. If we exchange the Krona we will still only have around 590 dollars. That’s not going to last very long…]]

Moose Boy scratched at his head as he thought. [[Maybe we can ask Roundabout for more money?]]

Otterman grimaced. [[We’re already on thin ice from our last failed mission and I have a feeling this might just push V.I.L.E over the edge. We can’t let him know we’ve already screwed up. We’ll have to make due as best we can. Go to the bank to exchange our Krona for American dollars, and don’t spend **any** of it. I’ll have to do some careful budgeting to figure out how long we can make this last.]]

Moose Boy got up from the bed eagerly. [[I’ll go to the bank right now for you!]] he declared, just wanting to help in any way he could. [[I promise I won’t disappoint you again!]]

Otterman glanced towards the clock. [[It’s already after four, and so you’ll have to hurry. **Don’t** lose any of the money.]]

[[I promise I won’t.]] Moose Boy assured him. [[I’m going to make this up to you. I’ll find a way to fix this.]]

Otterman gave him a skeptical look. [[Don’t get lost.]]

Moose Boy grabbed Otterman’s wallet and took out the Krona. [[I’ll be right back!]] he promised, heading for the door. As he opened the door, he hesitated and looked back at the other man. [...I love you.]]

Otterman gave him a hard look and then turned away from him. Moose Boy gave him crushed look, and then swallowed heavily. Just as he was closing the door, he heard the quiet reply.

“_ Jag älskar dig. _”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Crackle had been feeling off all morning but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. He didn’t feel sick, and he wasn’t tired, but his mind was feeling unusually fuzzy. It was hard to focus his thoughts and it felt like the fog in his mind was trying to spread itself further. His dreams all night had been strange and confusing, and he wasn’t sure if they were memories or just stress dreams. He kept seeing a small town surrounded by trees and faces of people he didn’t recognize, and it left a deep ache within him that he didn’t understand.

Crackle found it was extremely hard to concentrate on anything the next morning, and when he accidentally put salt in his coffee instead of sugar and didn’t notice, his team finally realized something was wrong.

“You feeling okay?” Roosevelt asked, watching Crackle drinking the salty coffee with a wince.

“Fine.” Crackle responded, his gaze distant as he stared across the cafe.

The twins exchanged a look and Paper Star stared at Crackle thoughtfully but didn’t say anything. Crackle had been oddly patient with Dash that morning, who was not making things easy for anyone. Crackle had dealt with an extreme battle of wills as he made Dash eat a bowl of oatmeal before they left and it had taken him over an hour of pestering him before Dash finally gave in and tried it. 

Dash had been irritable and whiny, and had complained about everything he could think of, but it hadn’t bothered Crackle. Crackle was unmoving and didn’t stop nagging Dash until he’d deemed he’d eaten an acceptable amount before he finally left him alone. Dash still couldn’t move very much, and Crackle had been a bit uncertain about leaving him by himself during the meeting with Team Red.

It had been Paper Star that pointed out they needed all four of them there in case things took a turn for the worse. Crackle knew she had a point, but he was having an odd sense of protectiveness over his injured teammate. He didn’t understand the emotion, but knew there was no way he could take Dash with them and he couldn’t remain behind. After making sure Dash had everything he could possibly need while they were gone, they left the motel to grab lunch before meeting with Team Red.

Crackle was acting twitchy and kept spacing out all during lunch. He didn’t even notice when he drank the salty coffee, and he forgot to pay when it came time to leave. Theodore had to dig through his pockets to look for American cash to pay for their meals, and then they’d followed after their leader who didn’t even notice.

“Are we going for the kill?” Paper Star asked Crackle as they got into the van. “If I get a good position, I can take them out as they get out of their car.”

Crackle immediately shook his head. “No, if we kill them, we’ll have no idea where Neal is. He could starve or die of dehydration before we find him.”

Paper Star blinked at him in confusion. “So?”

Crackle frowned at her. “What do you mean ‘so’? I’m not going to allow Neal to die.”

“But our mission is to kill Team Red,” Paper Star pointed out, “If we can complete our mission, V.I.L.E isn’t going to mind one casualty.”

Crackle felt an odd emotion in his mind, and he found himself shaking his head. “I am the leader of this team, and no one is going to die.” he said firmly. “We are getting Neal back.”

“At the cost of our mission?” Paper Star demanded.

It was like a conflict within his mind was taking place, and Crackle didn’t answer. Everything within him was screaming at him to obey his orders and kill Carmen Sandiego, but another part of him fought against it. He was responsible for Neal, and he couldn’t just abandon him… He thought of Neal’s goofy smile and the man’s neverending optimism and felt another wave of fog threaten to cloud his mind.

“This meeting is for a conversation only.” he told Paper Star firmly. “No fighting unless absolutely necessary.”

Paper Star shook her head, knowing this went against the mission. “We were sent to kill them,” she said with a frown.

“And we will.” Crackle vowed. “Just not today.”

Paper Star stared at him long and hard, and knew he was ruining a perfect opportunity to strike. She was so tired of being a part of this little group, and she’d do anything to return to working solo. Cocking her head thoughtfully, she knew that if she killed both teams, V.I.L.E would have no idea she was responsible. Crackle seemed to be a little off that day, and this would be the perfect opportunity to make her move.

As Roosevelt drove them to their meeting spot on the edge of town, Crackle kept fidgeting, his mind still on the strange town from his dreams. He could clearly see the streets, and it left a sad feeling inside him as the thought of the buildings and people. Was this homesickness? Was it possible to feel homesick for somewhere he didn’t even remember?

Crackle ran a hand through his hair with a sigh, having no idea what was wrong with him today. He couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything and his head was aching in strange, raw way.

“Do any of you have a Tylenol?” he demanded.

The twins both shook their heads no, and Paper Star didn’t even bother answering. Letting out a sigh, Crackle rubbed at his forehead, just wanting to get this over with.

They arrived at the outskirts of a large park, and as Roosevelt parked the van, they could see Team Red waiting for them.

“They’re early,” Crackle observed. 

“They probably didn’t want us to set up an ambush like last time,” Paper Star said with a frown. This was going to make things a lot more difficult…

Crackle observed how Carmen was leaning against the hood of the car, arms crossed and simply watching them as their van came to a stop. He could see several teammates waiting for her in the red car, and he knew they were outnumbered.

“Stay in the car unless necessary.” he ordered. “Until we secure Neal’s safe return, we don’t want to provoke them.”

Paper Star bristled, knowing this made it even more difficult for her. Crackle unbuckled his seat belt and then slowly got out of the car, never taking his eyes off Carmen.

“Both our teams stay in the car.” he called over.

“Agreed.” Carmen called back.

Not wanting to approach them, Crackle instead motioned towards a nearby picnic table. Carmen glanced around, but there was nowhere for operatives to hide near the picnic table and so she gave him a nod. Crackle’s eyes were narrowed to angry slits as he took a seat at the table, and Carmen sat down across from him, offering him a smile.

“Hello, Gray,” Carmen greeted, “How is Dash doing?”

“Return Neal to us.” Crackle stated, having no interest in small talk.

“We will return Neal if you agree to come with us,” Carmen replied, this being a conversation they’d already had multiple times over com.

“You know I can’t do that.” Crackle answered. “I will not abandon my mission.”

Carmen let out a deep sigh. “Your mission to kill me?” she questioned.

Crackle didn’t answer, and so she frowned and rested an elbow on the table. “I know you don’t want to kill me.”

“Return Neal.” he repeated, not wanting to listen to the same old speech again.

“Just come with us so a doctor can look at you, and I’ll let him go,” Carmen promised, “Your memories were erased again, but I’m certain there must be a way to get them back.”

“Again?” Crackle asked with a frown.

Carmen nodded. “We attended V.I.L.E academy together and we were best friends. You became like a big brother to me, and we cared a lot for each other. We spent every day together, and we used to prank the school and we got in trouble a lot. You were always so happy and goofy back then. I miss you.”

Crackle stared at Carmen, and **really** stared at her for the first time. He studied her face and for just a moment he had a memory of a young girl with short red hair and a sweet smile, and he frowned. Shaking his head, he knew this couldn’t be right.

“Your memories were erased by V.I.L.E and you were sent home to Sydney, Australia,” she explained.

A memory of the tiny town came to his mind and he knew this was wrong. No, he **worked** in Sydney but his home was...someplace else, someplace small, someplace he couldn’t quite remember.

“We met again while you were working at the Sydney Opera House, and then again in New Zealand where we worked together. I don’t know what happened after this, but V.I.L.E must have taken you back and did another erase on you.”

Crackle had a brief flash of memory where he watched Neal fight against Carmen, and then he had shocked the other man with a crackle rod. The man’s pained yell filled his mind and Crackle clenched his hands. Neal. He had attacked Neal...

“How do I even know Neal is still alive?” Crackle demanded

Carmen’s eyes widened. “You think we’d kill him?!”

“Let me speak to Neal.” Crackled demanded.

“I’m sorry, Gray, but that’s not going to happen,” Carmen said in an apologetic tone of voice.

“Let me speak to him now, or I’m walking away.” he threatened.

Carmen stared at him, and knew he was completely serious. “Very well, but only for a few seconds.”

Carmen pulled out her com and called El Topo. When there was no answer, she called Le Chèvre with the same results. Frowning in worry, she called Player who answered right away.

“What’s up, Red?” he asked, “Is the meeting with Team Evil over with already?”

Crackle narrowed his eyes.

“No, I’m sitting here with Gray right now and he wants to speak with Neal. Can you get a hold of El Topo or Le Chèvre? They’re not answering their coms.”

“Sure thing, Red, just a sec.”

There were a few second’s pause and then Player was back. “Er...you’re not going to like this.”

“What is it?” Carmen asked in dread, hoping Neal hadn’t escaped. 

“They’re all asleep…” Player answered.

“What?” Carmen said. “**All** of them?”

“Yup, all of them. Neal and El Topo fell asleep while watching a movie, and Le Chèvre is asleep in his bedroom. I tried using the speakers but I couldn’t wake them up.”

Carmen grimaced and glanced over at Crackle who didn’t look like he believed a word of it.

“Can you try again?” Carmen asked, “We kind of **really** need them to wake up right now…”

“Okay, I’ll try again,” Player said, going silent for a minute or so. “Sorry, Red, they’re completely passed out and even yelling didn’t wake them up.”

“...great.” Carmen commented.

“Oh! Zack is trying to get through to you right now,” Player told her, “You want me to connect the call over to you?”

Carmen shook her head. “No, we’re busy right now. You take the call, okay?”

Player gave her a nod. “Okay, I’ll answer it now. Cya later, Red.”

As soon as the call ended, Crackle got up from the table without a single word.

“Gray,” Carmen protested, “They were sleeping, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. Neal is perfectly fine.”

“We will meet again once you can provide confirmation Neal is alive. For **your** sake you’d better be taking proper care of him.”

“Gray, don’t be like this,” Carmen said, reaching for his hand as he passed by.

The second her hand touched his, his mind was flooded full of memories of a short haired girl and his group of friends at the academy. He reacted on pure instinct, and he slapped her away from him, slipping something in her pocket as he did so. As Carmen staggered back, clutching her face, Team Red instantly got out of the car, ready to come to Carmen’s aid.

“Don’t touch me!” Crackle ordered, backing away from her. “Just...**don’t**.”

Carmen held up a hand to stop her team from approaching, and then turned a sad gaze at her former friend. “I’m sorry, Gray. You’re right. I shouldn’t have touched you without your permission. I just really wish you’d stay and listen to me, just for a while.”

“No.” Crackle responded firmly. “Contact me when you can prove to me that Neal is safe. Until then, I have nothing to say to you.”

Crackle’s headache was so bad now that he felt like his skull was going to split open. Forcing his expression to remain indifferent, he turned and walked away.

“Gray!” Carmen called after him.

Crackle said nothing, and continued walking back to the van without so much as a glance back at her. When he got in the van, Paper Star leaned forward and gave him a questioning look.

“They refused to confirm Neal was alive,” he explained.

“Neal’s **dead**?!” Theodore said in alarm.

“No...well, at least I **hope** not,” Crackle answered, “I told them I’m not listening to anything they have to say until they can prove Neal is unharmed.”

“So this was a giant waste of time.” Paper Start stated, narrowing her eyes. 

“Not at all,” Crackle responded.

“Oh?” she demanded, “And why is **that**?”

“I slipped a tracker into her pocket when I slapped her,” Crackle responded with a smirk, “We can trace them right to their base and rescue Neal ourselves. Wanna go massacre Team Red, Paper Star?”

Paper Star blinked in surprise, and then gave him a nod. “Yes, yes I do.”

Crackle gave her a smile and she returned it, finally having something fun to look forward to. He glanced over at Team Red who were still sitting in their car watching them. 

“Okay, Roose, let’s get going,” he said, “Once we’re back at the motel, we’ll watch where Team Red goes, and then make our plan of attack.”

As they drove away, Crackle’s head gave another throb and he winced and rubbed at his temples. This headache seemed to be getting worse and he could feel the fog once again trying to creep in. He sat in silence for a few minutes as they drove, and then suddenly his headache got so bad, he became nauseated. As his stomach gave a turn, he realized he was about to be sick.

“Pull over!” he ordered. “Pull over **now**!”

Roosevelt pulled over to the side of the road and gave Crackle a look of confusion as he quickly scrambled out of the van. Ignoring the honks of the cars that passed him, he ran for the sidewalk and retched into the nearest garbage can, his headache only getting worse and worse. He suddenly felt a hand on his back and when he looked up, he saw Theodore standing over him with a concerned expression on his face.

“Are you alright?” he asked. “Do you have the flu?”

Crackle wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and shook his head, instantly regretting the action when it caused a sharp stab of pain in his skull.

“I’m fine, Teddy, I was just feeling a little car sick,” Crackle assured him, his stomach already feeling a bit better.

Theodore frowned at him and then reached over and placed a hand on Crackle’s forehead, not willing to take any chances after what happened with Dash. Crackle allowed it, and then Theodore gave him a nod, not detecting any signs of fever.

“You going to be okay?” he asked him with a frown, “You need anything?”

“I’ll be fine,” Crackle said, glancing over at the others who had rolled down the window to watch. “I just need a bit of air. We’re not far from the motel and so I’m going to walk back.”

Theodore hesitated. “You sure?”

Crackle nodded. “I’ll be fine after a bit of air.”

Theodore frowned but gave him a nod. “Alright, but call us if you need us.”

Crackle nodded, trying his best not to wince as his head continued to throb. “Wait for me, I shouldn’t be long.”

Crackle watched as the enormous man crawled back into the van, and as they drove away, he had no idea that a certain red sports car was parked just down the street from him, watching the whole thing. He glanced around the busy street and then headed for the nearby Chinese Grocery. Buying himself a can of cold ginger tea, he cracked it open as he left the store, hoping this would help settle his stomach a bit. His head was throbbing in agony, and he felt something crack deep within him.

Taking a sip of the tea as he stood on the sidewalk, he glanced around and suddenly felt confused. What was he doing just now? Why was he here? He gave another look around. Where **was** here?! Graham turned around in a full circle and didn’t recognize anything around himself. He then glanced down at himself and saw his V.I.L.E jumpsuit and reached down to touch it in revulsion. What in the world was he **wearing**? Why was he dressed like a mechanic?!

He took another sip of his tea and then winced. Why was he drinking iced tea? He hated tea. Dropping the can into the nearby garbage can, he stared around himself trying to figure out where he was. The last thing he remembered was celebrating his 17th birthday with his friends, and they’d been heavily drinking all night. Graham squinted at the nearby American flag on the front of the store and then frowned. Why was there an American flag in Australia? 

Graham rubbed at his throbbing head, wondering how much he’d had to drink the night before. This obviously wasn’t his small hometown, and so he must have gotten on a bus at some point. Ugh, his parents were going to kill him. He was probably going to be grounded for the rest of the school year.

“Oi, mate!” he called to a man standing nearby. 

“Yeah?” the man demanded suspiciously.

“This is gonna sound a bit strange, but I had waaaay too bloody much to drink last night and I must have gotten on a bus, because I have no idea where I am. Is this Sydney?”

The man simply stared at him. “What?”

“What city is this?” he asked, gesturing around.

The man furrowed his brow. “San Diego...”

“What?” Graham demanded, “San...Diego?”

“God, how drunk **were** you?” the man demanded, shaking his head. “San Diego, California?”

Graham simply stared at the man, feeling bewildered and a bit surprised at the man’s American accent. He then snorted and rolled his eyes. “Oh, ha ha, mate, that’s a good one, you wanker. You know what, you can go bugger yourself. I’ll ask someone else.”

The man simply looked confused as he walked away.

“Bloody tourists.” Graham muttered to himself. “Thinking they’re all comedians.”

Graham then waved down a woman pushing a baby stroller.

“Ma’am?” 

She gave him a cautious look. “Yes? What do you want?”

Graham frowned. Another tourist? This was getting really bizarre. “I seem to be a bit lost...which city am I in right now?”

“San Diego,” she replied.

Graham shook his head and walked away from her, certain someone was playing a joke on him. He stopped an old woman and offered her a smile.

“Excuse me, Gran, I’m lost and was wondering if you could tell me what city I’m in?”

“Oh, what a lovely British accent you have!” the woman gushed, “I’ve always loved the British, such a polite people!”

“Er...what?”

“I once went to London when I was a young woman. I took a picture of Buckingham Palace! How long are you here in the United States for?”

Graham shook his head. “What?” he repeated.

“You’re not very eloquent for an Englishman,” the woman teased.

“I-I’m Australian,” Graham said in a hesitant tone of voice.

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Disabilities can be so hard to deal with, especially at your age.”

Graham began to feel really nervous. She was senile. She **had** to be senile. There was no way he was in a completely different country...

Hurrying away from her without a word, he saw a newspaper stall and headed for it. Grabbing a newspaper he stared at the front page, his gaze zeroing in on San Diego Times. Tossing it aside, he grabbed a different newspaper and saw it was the San Diego Star. As he tossed that one aside the vendor noticed what he was doing and began approaching. 

“Hey! You have to pay for those!” he yelled.

Feeling incredibly freaked out, Graham took off running, hearing the sound of the man yelling behind him. He ran until he could no longer hear the yells, and then slowed down. Glancing behind himself nervously, he reached up and ran a hand through his hair. Why was his hair a different style? Oh god, did one of his friends drug him and stick him on a plane as a joke? Graham let out a curse. Correction, he wasn’t going to be grounded for the rest of the school year, he was going to be grounded until he was thirty.

Graham looked all around himself, suddenly very afraid. He had no idea what to do. Should he go to the police? His gaze fell on a payphone and he ran for it, realizing he could call for help. He picked up the receiver and then realized it probably took American money. Frowning, he knew he only had $4 in Australian dollars leftover from his allowance. He’d left all his birthday money at home when he’d gone out partying.

Wait a second...he’d bought that disgusting iced tea and so he **must** have some money! Reaching into the pocket of his jumpsuit, he pulled out a wallet he didn’t recognize. Opening it, he was shocked to see a substantial amount of American cash inside. Where in the world did **this** come from?! He then noticed several credit cards. Taking one out, he stared at the name with a frown. John Smithenson. He had a stolen wallet on his person…

Graham glanced all around as if he expected the police to suddenly swarm him, and then he turned his gaze back to the wallet. Okay, he was **definitely** in a lot of trouble right now...but maybe he could claim he found the wallet, and could just use some of the cash as an emergency? Biting his lower lip nervously, he hoped he didn’t get arrested for this mess. He’d never been outside of Australia before and now he was halfway across the world all by himself!

Picking up the phone receiver again, he hit zero and waited as the call connected to an operator.

“Operator, how can I help you?”

“Uhhh, g’day,” Graham greeted, “I need to make a call to Australia, please.”

“Collect, phone card or credit card?” she asked.

Graham knew his parents would have an aneurysm if he called them collect from another country, and so he hesitantly pulled out a credit card.

“Er...it will be mastercard.” he replied, hoping this wouldn’t count as grand theft.

“Provide me the phone number please.”

Graham provided her with his home phone number and then waited as the operator set up the call. 

“Your credit card will be charged $2.49 a minute,” she informed him, “Please read off the card number slowly.”

Graham read her the number off the card, the expiration date and then the three numbers off the back. Once she ran his card and okayed the call, she connected him and he suddenly heard ringing. It rang about five times before the voice of a woman answered.

“Hello?” she answered, sounding a bit confused.

“Um...hi mum…” he said hesitantly, “Look, I can explain!”

“Graham?!” she shrieked into the phone.

“Er...yeah.”

“Oh my god, we thought you were **dead** !” she cried out, her tone completely anguished. “Where have you been?! Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been? Where **were** you?”

“You thought I was dead already?” Graham asked in disbelief.

“You were gone **three years**, Graham!” she yelled into the phone. “Where the hell have you been all this time? How could you do this to us?! Do you have **any** idea what you put us through?!”

“Three years? What are you talking about?” Graham asked in complete confusion. “I’ve only been gone a day!”

His mother went silent on the other end of the line.

“Mum?”

There was no answer.

"...mum?"

There was still dead silence, and Graham glanced at the receiver with a frown.

“Mum? Are you still there?”

“It’s drugs, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice shaking. “You’re taking drugs.”

Graham rubbed at his head which was beginning to throb painfully.

“I don’t know!” he cried out in distress. “I don’t know what happened! I just woke up on the street!”

“Where are you?” she demanded.

Graham raised a hand to his face, feeling like he was about to cry. How could he have been gone for three years? He’d never been so terrified in his entire life, and he felt his hands begin to shake as he held onto the phone. “I just...I just want to come home. I’m sorry, mum! I snuck out drinking, and I don’t know what happened! Please. I’m really scared.”

He couldn’t stop the choked sob from escaping him, and he felt the hotness of tears as they made their way down his face.

“I’m sorry, mum! I’m **really** sorry! Please don’t leave me here!”

“Okay, sweetheart, calm down,” his mother’s voice urged. “Take a deep breath for me, and just calm down. We’re going to come get you. Where are you?”

Graham hesitated.

“Graham?” she prompted. “Tell me where you are. We’re bringing you home.”

“...you’re not going to believe me.”

“Tell me anyway.” she ordered. “Where are you?”

“I-I’m in San-”

Suddenly a painful stab burst in his skull and Graham dropped the receiver as he clutched at his head.

“Graham?” his mother called out. “Graham, are you there?”

Graham fell to his knees, the pain so intense he felt like he was going to pass out.

“Graham answer me!” his mother called out, desperation in her voice. “Please, sweetheart, just talk to me! I promise we’re not mad! Just answer me! You can come home, just tell us where you are so we can come get you!”

Crackle stood up and glanced around himself in confusion, and then looked down at his hands. Where did his tea go? Scratching at his head, he glanced towards the phone beside him.

“Please!” the woman on the phone begged. “Answer me! Sweetheart, **please**, don’t hang up!”

Unconcerned with the phone, he turned away and raised a hand to his face. Why was his face wet? Although a bit puzzled, he shrugged it off and walked away, not giving the phone another thought.

As he walked through the streets, the fog pressed on his mind so heavily that he couldn’t seem to remember where the motel was. Nothing looked familiar to him, and he kept seeing flashes of the tiny town from his dreams. One moment he’d know he was in San Diego and the next he thought he was walking the streets in Australia.

He walked and walked, and as afternoon became dusk, his memories were still switching from past to present, and he had to admit that he had no idea where he was. It was with great relief when he finally spotted Double Trouble approaching from up the sidewalk. When their gazes fell on him, their expressions looked relieved as well.

“Where have you been?” Theodore asked, “We’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

Crackle had no answer for him. “Let’s just get back, alright?”

The twins looked rather confused, but they nodded anyway and Crackle followed behind them, his mind a swirling mass of fog and memories. Everything was spinning together, and he rubbed at his head, wishing this pain would just end. 

Pausing for a second as there was a stab of agony behind his eyes, he glanced to the alley beside him and saw an orange cat staring at him. The cat was the mangiest, ugliest cat he had ever seen in his life, and he simply stared at it in disbelief. It was missing an eye, one of its ears was mangled and it was missing giant patches of fur all over its body.

A sudden memory came to mind and he remembered his childhood cat. His cat had been orange, enormously fat and he had lovingly named him Steve. He used to carry the cat all over town with him when he was young and the lazy tom hadn’t minded in the least.

Crackle stared at the mangy alley cat and wondered why Steve was in town by himself. It was dangerous here, and he could get hit by a car!

Kneeling down, he held out a hand towards the cat. “Here kitty kitty,” he said softly.

The cat narrowed its eye at him and hissed.

“Come on,” Crackle urged, slowly crouch-walking towards the cat, “C’mere, Steve.”

The cat made a low warning noise in the back of its throat, and lowered itself down low to the ground, its claws now clearly visible.

“Erm...Crackle?” Roosevelt questioned, “Whatcha doing?”

“Shh.” Crackle scolded. “You’re going to scare him.”

The twins glanced at the cat, and then back at Crackle, having no idea what their leader was doing.

“Come on, Steve,” Crackle said gently, “Let’s get you home.”

As Crackle got closer to it, the cat began backing away from him, what little fur it had remaining beginning to raise angrily. Crackle suddenly lunged forward and grabbed a hold of the cat whose immediately reaction was to let out an angry scream and claw his face as hard as it could. As claws dug into him, Crackle let out a shrill shriek of surprise and fell backwards, but he didn’t let go. The cat fought and snarled as it bit and scratched him, and Crackle yelped in pain as he struggled to hold it. 

After fighting against him furiously for a few seconds, the cat realized it wasn’t being hurt and relaxed a bit, but never once stopping its hissing.

“...ow.” Crackle commented, pretty sure his whole chest and face were now nothing but a mass of scratches.

Why did this seem somehow familiar?

“Uh…” Theodore commented, “Erm.”

The cat was still hissing like crazy, but Crackle didn’t seem to notice. Without a word, Crackle got up and continued walking, carrying the unhappy cat with them. Double Trouble exchanged a look between them, both desperately trying to remember if Crackle had mentioned anything about a cat in his plans. They tended to zone out during long lectures and they weren’t entirely sure whether they were missing out on something important. Deciding to just go along with it for now, they continued leading the way to the motel.

When they finally reached it, Crackle began feeling a little odd in the head. His mind felt numb, like it had pins and needles and he shook his head, trying to clear his mind. Opening the door, he waited until the twins were in and then set down the cat who immediately swiped at him and ran for it. Paper Star stared at the cat and then stared at Crackle’s bloody face, her expression slowly becoming more and more confused. 

The cat raced around the room, looking for somewhere to hide and finally it dove onto the bed where Dash was sleeping. Landing on top of his back, it huddled itself up into an angry ball and growled lowly. Dash slowly opened his eyes and then glanced over his shoulder at his back. When he saw the mangy, one-eyed cat, he let out a startled shriek.

“What the **hell** is that?!” he demanded, struggling to get up.

He couldn’t move however, and the cat didn’t seem inclined to move off his back, simply digging its claws into the blankets.

“That’s Steve.” Crackle commented.

Dash flailed an arm at the cat, not wanting to touch it, but it ignored him, clearly not seeing him as a threat.

“Steve?!” Dash cried out, “What the hell **is** this thing? Someone get it off of me!”

Crackle started to reply when suddenly a hot stab of agony coursed through his head and he fell to the floor. This was the worst pain yet, and he let out a scream as he clutched at his head. As he began to lose consciousness, he became aware the world was beginning to spin, and his entire body was convulsing uncontrollably. The last thing he heard were the sounds of his teammates calling his name

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Zack and Mime Bomb ran through the woods as fast as they could, ignoring how the rain was coming down harder and harder. Both boys were scrambling through the mud as they struggled to climb a hill, and they were out of breath and tired.

“Are you **sure** we’re going the right way?” Zack asked him, “It’s been fifteen years since you were here after all…”

Mime Bomb gave him a confident nod and pointed up the hill. He and Alys used to steal apples from Omar’s Orchard all the time as children and he remembered the way to get there perfectly. Zack returned the nod, trusting him, and they clawed their way to the top of the hill, both freezing cold and covered in black muck. Zack let out a breath of relief when he saw they were now in an apple orchard, and they ran across the orchard in the direction of the farm house.

“Where does he keep the truck?” Zack asked, not seeing anything in the driveway.

Mime Bomb pointed to the barn, and they ran across the yard, hoping no one was awake to see them. It took the both of them to pull open the barn door, and when they finally got it open, they were met with the sight of an ancient pickup truck that looked like it was ready to fall apart.

“No wonder this guy wasn’t worried about his truck being stolen…”

They opened the driver door and to their dismay, the keys weren’t in the ignition. After searching the truck, they realized the keys were nowhere to be found.

“What are we going to do?” Zack asked worriedly.

Mime Bomb held up a finger to signify just a moment and to Zack’s complete surprise he watched as the other boy hotwired the car.

“Wait a second...I thought you couldn’t drive?” he questioned.

Mime Bomb gave him a shrug.

“You can hotwire a car, but you can’t drive?”

Mime Bomb once again shrugged.

“Okay, that’s weird but I’m not complaining. I’m going to call the pilot so he can get the plane ready.”

As Zack made the call, Mime Bomb glanced around the barn, his gaze immediately settling on a nearby rifle. Approaching the workbench where it was laying, he picked it up and looked it over. It seemed to be in working condition as he inspected it, and when he checked, he saw it was loaded. Turning around with the gun in his hands, Zack’s eyes widened and he quickly hung up the call.

“No way!” he said firmly. “We are **not** shooting anyone! Put it back!”

Mime Bomb shook his head.

Zack narrowed his eyes and he approached. “Put it back **now**.” he ordered. “We don’t kill people, even if they’re bad guys.”

Mime Bomb stared at the gun, and he gave Zack a frustrated look, willing to do almost anything to never be taken by those men. Zack reached out and yanked the gun away from him.

“**No**.” Zack told him. “We’re not going to hurt anyone.”

Mime Bomb stared at the gun for a long moment and then turned and walked away, looking frustrated. Zack watched as Mime Bomb crawled into the passenger seat of the truck, and he glanced down at the rifle in his hand. Grimacing at the thought of shooting someone, he set it down on the workbench and then approached the truck. As he crawled in, he could see the fear in Mime Bomb’s eyes, and he felt terrible.

“What did they do to you?” Zack asked him softly.

Mime Bomb stared at him with wide eyes and simply shook his head.

“We’ll be talking about this later,” Zack promised him. “Enough secrets. You’re going to tell us everything and you’re going to let us help you. We’re family, and family doesn’t hide things from each other...well nothing **this** big anyway.”

Mime Bomb looked away, and the truck sputtered noisily as Zack put it in gear. As Zack drove out of the barn, the lights turned on in the house and it was obvious the owner had heard his truck. Stepping on the gas, Zack sped away just as the front door was thrown open.

“The pilot is going to have the plane ready for us,” Zack said, clenching the steering wheel tightly, “I just hope this old truck can make it that far.”

Zack turned onto the main road, and as they sped along the highway, Zack glanced in the rearview mirror.

“Thirty minutes and we’ll be to the airport,” he stated, “Hopefully the cops don’t find us before then.”

Blasting the heat to warm them up, Zack sped along, glad that there weren’t very many cars on the road at this hour. As they reached Cardiff, Zack suddenly spotted two black vans pull onto the highway behind them.

“Aw, man, **really**?” he complained, “How did they find us?!”

Mime Bomb turned around to stare behind them at the vans, and then he gave Zack a nervous look.

“Don’t worry, bud, I’m not going to let them get you.”

Zack sped up and the two vans did as well, and one of them pulled up beside the truck. A man stared across at them and then motioned for them to pull over. Mime Bomb gave him a look like he was crazy, and then to his surprise the man began signing at him in fluent sign language.

‘**Pull the truck over ** **now**’ he ordered.

Mime Bomb didn’t respond, and so the man signed again.

‘**Pull the truck over and you will not be harmed**’

Mime Bomb still didn’t respond and the man was cleary getting frustrated. 

‘**We will kill the boy you’re with if you don’t surrender to us ** **now**’

Mime Bomb glanced at Zack, and his expression hardened. ‘**Touch him, and I will kill myself** .’ he answered. ‘ **I’m no use to you dead**’

The man seemed surprised at this and he turned to speak with his driver for a moment. He then looked back to Mime Bomb with a frown.

‘**You’re bluffing**’

‘**Try me**’

The man narrowed his eyes at him, and then said something to his driver. The next thing they knew, the van slammed into the side of their truck and Zack jerked the steering wheel to stop them from being run off the road.

“Geez!” Zack cried out, his eyes wide, “Are they crazy?!”

Zack knew the old truck would never be able to outrun the vans, but there was something he knew that they clearly didn’t. He gave another jerk to the steering wheel and the truck slammed into the side of the van solidly, sending it crashing into a ditch. Old trucks were built completely solid and the impact didn’t so much as leave a dent in it. The remaining van was keeping its distance, and Zack had no idea what he was going to do. The truck could only drive so fast, and there was nowhere they could lose their pursuers. 

“We’re going to have to run for it once we get to the airport.” Zack told him with a grimace. “If we can’t make it, I’ll do my best to hold them off while you get to the plane. I should be able to buy you a few seconds at least.”

Mime Bomb crossed his arms against his chest and gave him an unimpressed look. Like **hell** he was going to leave his brother behind to get shot. He’d rather get captured than watch the other boy die. 

The van tailed them the whole way to the airport and Zack was desperately trying to think of something to do. As the gate to the tarmac came within view, Zack had an idea.

“Take off your seatbelt and get ready to run for it.” Zack instructed. “I have an idea that might buy us a minute.”

Mime Bomb nodded, and unbuckled his seatbelt as Zack did the same thing.The second he was past the gate, he stopped the truck and then got out and began closing the gate after them. The men in the van immediately slammed on their brakes, and as they drew their weapons, Zack was already scrambling back in the truck. He then reversed it and stopped the truck right against the gate, ensuring it couldn’t be opened.

“Okay, run!” Zack ordered, jumping out of the truck. 

They both ran for it as fast as they could across the tarmac, and the sounds of gunfire sounded after them. Neither stopped running, and a second later there was a tremendous crash as the men slammed into the gate with the van, successfully pushing the truck back far enough for them to get through on foot. The men then exited their van and took off running after them, weapons drawn.

Zack and Mime Bomb had a decent headstart on them and they pushed themselves to run faster and faster as they heard gunfire behind them. They saw their jet waiting for them, and the pilot hurried up the airstairs at the sight of them approaching. Just as they reached the stairs, Zack felt a sharp pain in his leg and he let out a cry of surprise and stumbled to the ground. Mime Bomb was at his side instantly and he pulled a dart out of Zack’s leg and tossed it aside.

Zack was already woozy from whatever was in the dart, and Mime Bomb helped support him as they started up the stairs. Mime Bomb then felt a dart pierce his shoulder and pulled it out without stopping. Feeling dizzy, he hit the automatic door button and the airstairs retracted as the door began to close. Mime Bomb stared at the men as they reached the jet and they took one last shot at him as the door closed. The dart bounced off the floor harmlessly and Mime Bomb collapsed backwards, too woozy to sit up. Zack was already passed out, and within seconds, Mime Bomb joined him.

Outside, the men let out a curse.

[[Aim for the pilot!]] one of them ordered. [[Kill the pilot and we’ll finally have him. Volkov should be unconscious by now, and if we can get in the plane, he’s ours.]]

The men shot at the pilot who was slowly pulling forward in the plane, and he ducked as a bullet whizzed by his head. Accelerating the plane, he gasped as a bullet struck his chest, but he still continued, knowing they would all die unless he got them into the air. The bullets continued raining on the side of the jet and just seconds later, the sounds faded as he successfully got them into the air. Holding a hand to his bleeding chest, he set the plane on autopilot and then staggered to the back of the plane to get the medical kit. 

Seeing his two passengers were unconscious, he gave them a quick glance over, but saw no signs of injury. He then saw the dart laying on the floor and quickly realized they’d been drugged. Seeing to his injury first, he knew better than to remove the bullet, and instead wrapped his chest to slow the bleeding. There was no way he could make it all the way to San Diego in his condition and he’d have to make a detour. Dragging his passengers onto one of the couches, he headed back to the cockpit to arrange an emergency landing in London.

When Mime Bomb and Zack came to several hours later, they were a bit confused. Their heads were pounding from the sedatives, and when they looked out the window, they saw the plane was grounded.

“Where are we?” Zack asked in confusion.

Mime Bomb squinted out the window and recognized the city immediately. Knowing Zack wouldn’t know the signs for this, he mimed a queen. Zack frowned and scratched at his head and then took a guess.

“England?”

Mime Bomb nodded.

“What are we doing **here**?” he wondered out loud. 

Mime Bomb frowned and gave a shrug, hoping something hadn’t gone wrong.

They carefully got to their feet, still feeling a bit unsteady, and they slowly made their way to the cockpit, holding onto the wall for support. The pilot looked up as they entered, and he gave them an angry look.

“This is going to be a **very** expensive bill this time.” he informed them. “I’m doubling my usual rate.”

“What’s going on?” Zack asked. “What happened?”

“I had to divert the plane to London to get medical treatment,” he replied, “I’m now just waiting for air clearance. It shouldn’t be more than a couple hours.”

Zack looked him up and down, but the pilot wasn’t acting like he was injured. “Are you going to be okay?” he asked in concern.

“I’ve had worse,” the pilot responded, going back to his magazine. “I’ll inform you when we’re about to take off.”

Zack glanced at Mime Bomb. “We need to tell Carmen about this.”

Mime Bomb grimaced but gave a nod all the same. As Zack headed back, he followed after him, knowing this was **not** going to be a pleasant conversation. They took a seat on the couch, and edged close together so they could both see the screen to the com.

As Zack dialed Carmen’s com, waiting and waiting as it rang. After about twenty rings, Player answered. The boy was eating a burger meal and looked to be at a restaurant.

“Hey, guys,” the boy greeted.

“Wow, are you actually out of your room?!” Zack asked in shock.

Player rolled his eyes. “I do leave my dark cave **occasionally**,” the boy replied.

“We’re trying to get a hold of Carm, is she busy?”

Player nodded as he ate a fry. “She’s meeting with Team Crackle right now, and she could be a while. What’s up?”

“Er...well, we’re now in London…”

Player paused mid-bite and raised a brow. “What? Why?”

Zack wasn’t entirely sure how to explain everything when he didn’t even understand it himself. “Erm, well, some men showed up and were after Mime Bomb. They shot at us and we had to leave Wales before they took him.”

Player simply stared at him, and then took a drink of his soda. “What men? Police?”

Zack shook his head. “No, they definitely weren’t police, they were shooting tranquilizer darts. They weren’t interested in me and were only interested in Mime Bomb. They even knew his real name!”

Player frowned and knew this was serious. Who would be after Mime Bomb if it wasn’t the police? Was it V.I.L.E perhaps?

“Ok, I’m going to do a bit of poking on the V.I.L.E servers to see if I can find out what they know about Mime Bomb. If V.I.L.E is responsible for this, then **someone** will be talking about it. What’s Mime Bomb’s real name?”

Zack glanced over at Mime Bomb who nodded his consent.

“Mime Bomb’s real name is Yuri Volkov.”

Player proceeded to choke on his drink, his eyes going saucer wide. He coughed a few times and then stared at Zack, his expression completely horrified.

“Volkov?! Mime Bomb’s real name is VOLKOV?!”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Siren silently stewed as the elevator went up, still feeling angry and embarrassed. Luckily Vess wasn’t the type of person to hold any of this over his head to humiliate him, and so he knew it probably would never be mentioned after today. As they stepped off the elevator, Siren wished there was something he could do about Kevin’s constant disrespect. He **hated** that Kevin, but for reasons unknown Vess wouldn’t allow him to be fired.

A thought then occurred to Siren. 

“Have the Kevins taken their lunch break yet?” he asked.

“No, I was going to send them once we got back,” Vess replied without looking at him. “Why?”

“Perfect,” Siren said, turning to walk away.

Vess immediately grabbed him harshly by the arm.

“Where are you going?” he demanded, his tone instantly impatient.

“Cafeteria.”

Vess narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You’re actually going to eat something without me having to force you?” he questioned skeptically.

Siren nodded, but Vess didn’t look convinced.

“I don’t like the idea of you going by yourself after I just gave you a sedative,” Vess stated with a frown, “You could fall, and I’m too busy to go with you.”

“I feel fine,” Siren assured him, “Besides, I won’t be alone, Ted will come with me, right Ted?”

The enormous man gave him a nod. Vess didn’t look at all reassured and he let out a deep and aggravated sigh.

“Fine, but if you’re not back in twenty minutes, I’m sending someone to find you.”

Siren rolled his eyes, and walked off without even bothering to answer. Honestly Vess was worse than the guards half the time. 

“You **better** not tell anyone about me having problems with the dark.” Siren said, glancing up at Ted as they walked along.

“I promise,” Ted assured him, “We’re here for you.”

Siren let out a snort. “What, are you plural now?” he demanded, “You’re an idiot, Ted.”

They walked along in silence for a few minutes and when they came to the cafeteria, the sound of singing could be heard. Pushing open the doors, Siren saw a group of Kevins gathered together singing Happy Birthday to another Kevin. He slowly approached and the singing quickly tapered off as they caught sight of him. Everyone was staring at him with wide and cautious eyes and Siren let out a sigh.

“Where’s the Kevin fridge?” he demanded.

Without a word, someone pointed to a large set of fridges nearby. He could feel every eye on him as he crossed the room and instantly became irritable. Yeah, he **never** came to the cafeteria, but was it really **that** big of a deal? Honestly. People were staring at him like he was going to eat them or something. 

Letting out a sigh, he opened one of the fridges and stared at the bagged lunches thoughtfully. Terry Douglas...where was the lunch for one Terrence Douglas? He dug through the fridge looking at the names on the lunches, hoping Terry hadn’t been planning on buying his lunch for once. After digging for a few moments, he came across a brown paper bag with Terry’s name on it. Bingo. Grabbing the bag, he closed the fridge, and then glanced up at Ted.

“I need you to help me with research this afternoon,” he informed him, “I actually have a bit of free time, and I want to start researching a new vaccine.”

“Sorry, bro, but I can’t do that.”

Siren narrowed his eyes. “What you do mean you ‘can’t do that’?!” he demanded, raising his voice. “And stop calling me ‘bro’! I am your boss, and you don’t disrespect me like this!”

Ted gave him a shrug, clearly unconcerned, and Siren felt himself becoming agitated. 

“**Why**?” he demanded. “Why can’t you help me?”

“You know why,” Ted answered, giving a long and lazy stretch.

“Vess.” Siren said, narrowing his eyes. “He’s trying to punish me for touching his damn research, isn’t he?! He’s ordered you to be useless!”

Ted shrugged.

“Well, you work for **me** , and I **order** you to ignore **him**!”

“Sorry, but Dr. Vess kinda scares me,” Ted admitted.

“You’re like seven feet tall, you could crush him if you wanted!” Siren snarled, “Stop being an idiot.”

“Sorry.”

Siren reached into the fridge and grabbed a lunchbox. He then whipped it at Ted, but missed by a long shot, hitting one of the nearby Kevins instead. Cursing his terrible aim, he turned away, not wanting to deal with Ted anymore. Every eye in the cafeteria was on him as he turned around, and he frowned at the dead silence in the room.

“What?” he demanded. 

Siren then glanced down at the stolen lunch in his hand. “If anyone tells him I stole this, I’m going to be pissed off.” he informed them.

Several of the Kevins exchanged a look, but no one answered him. Siren’s gaze then fell on the large birthday cake on the table.

“Can I have a piece of cake?” he asked.

The Birthday Kevin hesitantly reached for the knife and then cut him a generous slice, placing it on a paper plate. Holding it out towards him, Siren took the plate and then grabbed a plastic fork.

“Thank you,” Siren said, turning towards the door. “And Happy Birthday.”

Siren left the cafeteria, ignoring how as soon as he left the room it erupted into immediate conversation. He walked back to the lab in silence and when he entered, he glanced at Terry, noting the sullen look on the other man’s face. It seemed Vess had already given the guard a piece of his mind. He walked past them without a single word, purposely bumping into Terry as he did so, and then took a seat at his desk, making sure the name on the paper bag wasn’t facing the guards.

Vess glanced over at him suspiciously, and frowned at the bagged lunch, but didn’t comment since he didn’t especially care. Terry stared at Siren in surprise, fully expecting to be yelled at or have something thrown at him, but Siren seemed completely calm. Terry was instantly on edge, knowing this wasn’t right.

Siren opened the bagged lunch, and pulled out a tupperware container. A post-it was stuck to the lid and he turned it around to read it.

‘**Have a good day at work, handsome, I love you -Lucy**’

Siren snorted, and opened the lid to see what it was. It was some sort of casserole, and he pulled a fork out of the bag. Not especially caring whether it was cold, he took a bite and immediately didn’t like it. He kept eating it however, having every intention of finishing every bite of the stolen lunch. He normally had a terrible appetite and after a few minutes, Vess gave him another suspicious glance.

“What are you eating?” Terry asked after a few minutes. “It smells good.”

Siren gave a shrug. “Some kind of casserole...chicken I think.”

“I didn’t know the cafeteria made casseroles,” he commented in surprise, “Who made it? Sarah?”

“It was made by a very sad woman with extremely low standards in life,” Siren replied, finishing the last bite of casserole.

“Maybe I’ll buy a small dish to try,” Terry said thoughtfully. “I’m starving and haven’t taken my lunch-break yet. I can then compare it to my wife’s casserole.”

“Wouldn’t count on it,” Siren replied, pulling the piece of chocolate cake towards himself. “It’s all gone.”

Terry gave a shrug. “Oh well.”

“You two can go take your breaks,” Vess told told them without looking up from his experiment. “We’ll be fine here.”

Terry and Natasha didn’t need to be told twice and they left the room without a word. As soon as the door closed, Vess glanced over at Siren.

“That was Terry’s lunch, wasn’t it.” It wasn’t a question.

“Sure was.” Siren replied, taking a bite of the cake. “And this is his wallet.”

Siren plunked a leather wallet onto the desk, and Vess simply sighed.

“If he slaps you, I’m not stopping him.” 

“Fair enough.”

“Did you steal someone’s birthday cake?” Vess asked, going back to what he was doing.

“No, they gave me a piece. They’re having some sort of birthday party for a Kevin in the lunchroom.”

Vess said nothing more and so Siren picked up a pen and grabbed a handful of paperwork. He translated several dozen pages, humming as he did so, and Ted stood nearby simply watching him. After an hour, the Kevins returned and Siren smirked when he saw the foul look on Terry’s face. He noticed Terry was glancing around at the floor and Siren subtly pushed the wallet out of sight behind the paper bag.

Deciding he was bored with translations, Siren got up from his desk and approached Vess’ side of the room. He stared at the various bottled specimens in curiosity, but knew better than to touch anything. He was still humming to himself quietly, and he looked at the huge collection of medical texts that filled several bookcases. As with the bottles, he made sure not to touch, and he wandered from place to place, simply being nosy. As his humming escalated to quiet singing, Vess let out a sigh, but didn’t bother commenting. It was normal for Siren to begin getting bored after a few hours of paperwork, and the sedative was clearly wearing off.

The guards watched Siren aimlessly wander around the room, and Natasha leaned in to whisper in her partner’s ear.

“You know, he actually has a really nice voice,” she observed.

Terry rolled his eyes. “That’s the only reason no one has strangled him yet,” he replied, “He’s like a walking jukebox.”

Siren soon found himself standing next to a large globe and he reached out a hand and spun it, simply watching as it went around and around. A little bit mesmerized, he spun it and spun it, watching the blur of colours as it turned. Reaching out a hand, he stopped it, and then glanced over at Vess.

“If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you choose to go?” he asked.

“I **can** go anywhere in the world I want to.” Vess replied, impatiently. “I’m exactly where I want to be right now.”

Siren rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so boring. I’ve always wanted to go to Seoul.”

“Fascinating.” Vess deadpanned without looking up.

Siren glanced over at Ted. “Where would you choose to go, Ted?”

Ted seemed a bit confused, but approached all the same. He stared down at the globe and then pointed a finger to a location. Siren squinted at where he pointed and then gave him an incredulous look.

“New Jersey?! Out of everywhere in the entire world, you’d choose to go to **New Jersey**?!”

Ted smiled and nodded.

Siren sighed. “Somehow that is very fitting for you, Ted…”

Siren spun the globe again, and Vess finally looked up. “If you break that I’m taking it out of your pay.”

Siren blinked. “I get paid?! When did **this** start?!”

Vess rolled his eyes, knowing Siren was just joking. “I have a meeting I need to attend in a few minutes. Do **not** touch my desk while I’m gone or I’ll snap every single one of your fingers.”

Siren rolled his eyes in return, knowing Vess would never actually do that. “I told you I never touched your damn desk, Numa. Stop being so full of yourself; your research is **not** that interesting.”

“Siren, I trust your self-control about as much as I’d trust a thief with my credit card.” Vess responded, getting up from his desk. “You’re like a spoiled child.”

Siren spun the globe so hard, it teetered a bit and he glared at his lab partner. “And you’re like an ornery old man.” he shot back.

Vess sighed. “Don’t you have work you can be doing?”

“Oh, probably,” Siren acknowledged, giving another spin to the globe. “I’m going to get a few files out of the archives so I can do a bit of research later.”

“Good, maybe you’ll actually accomplish something for once.” Vess stated, gathering a few papers together.

“God, you’re an ass today.” Siren commented. “You need to take a nap or something.”

Vess didn’t respond as he placed a few papers into a folder and then grabbed his briefcase. As he headed for the door, he shot Siren one last warning look and then left without another word. Siren spun the globe again and glanced over at Ted.

“Now that Dr. Gloom is gone, do you want to help me with my research?”

Ted nodded. “Sounds like fun.”

Siren clapped his hands together, glad Ted was actually going to do his job for once. “Perfect!” he exclaimed, heading for his desk.

He then noticed the Kevins were having a conversation between themselves.

“Did you check your locker?” 

“Of course I did! I have no idea where I could have dropped it! I couldn’t even buy my lunch and I’m absolutely starving! My rent money was in there!”

“I only have a ten, but I can lend it to you until tomorrow if you like?”

Siren smirked and Terry quickly noticed. 

“Of course **you** would think this was funny.” he grumbled.

“Don’t talk to me, Kevin.” Siren responded, opening his desk drawer.

“My name isn’t Kevin, it’s Terry.”

Siren seemed surprised. “Is that so? That’s also the name on this lunchbag! Imagine that.”

Terry simply stared at him. “What?”

Siren turned the paper bag around so the name written on it was clearly visible. Terry stared at it and then gaped at him in realization.

“Is...is that my lunch?!”

“Well, it doesn’t say Kevin on it, so probably not.” Siren responded with a shrug.

Terry strode forward and snatched the bag, glanced inside and saw the note from his wife. His mouth tightened into an angry line, and he glowered down at the smaller man who simply gave him an innocent look.

“You stole my lunch?!”

Siren glanced over at Ted who was still standing next to the globe. “Ted, why is this Kevin trying to talk to me? He seems to think I care what he says.”

Terry’s eyes then fell on the wallet and he sputtered angrily for a moment as he reached out to snatch it back. “You stole my wallet?! Are you serious right now?!”

“Go away.” Siren ordered, pulling a few folders out of his desk. “I’m busy.”

Terry slammed his hand on top of the desk, causing Siren to jump in surprise. When he looked up, Terry was leaning over the desk so they were face to face.

“You earn ten times what I do, and you stole my lunch **and** my wallet?!”

“To be fair, your wife is a really horrendous cook and I instantly regretted it.”

Terry slammed his hand down again and Siren shrank back, suddenly aware of how much bigger the other man was than him.

“This whole facility just lets you do whatever you want and it’s ridiculous!” Terry snarled. “The way you’re catered to, the way no one ever says anything to you, the way they let you get away with murder! I am **sick** of being assigned to you, but apparently I do a ‘good job’ and they won’t let me transfer. I’m stuck babysitting you, and I’ve had enough!”

As Terry moved one of his hands, Siren jerked back and lifted his hands over his face, fully expecting to be slapped. Natasha was suddenly there, and she grabbed Terry by the arm.

“Don’t you dare hit him!” she said firmly. 

“I’m not going to hit him.” Terry snapped. “Even if he **does** deserve it.”

Siren peeked through his fingers at him, not quite trusting him and Terry narrowed his eyes at him.

“You’re buying me a replacement lunch.” he informed him.

“Ted!” Siren called. “A little help over here?!”

Ted simply stared back at him looking completely confused and helpless.

Terry once again slammed a hand on the desk. “Stop it.” he ordered. “No one is going to help you out of this. Not **this** time.”

Siren shook his head. “Go away, Kevin, just leave me alone.”

“**No**.” Terry said firmly. “You are going to listen to me whether you want to or not.”

“Terry, you kinda did deserve it.” Natasha informed him. “That prank with the basement was mean-spirited.”

Terry took a deep breath, and then glared down at Siren who was still holding himself like he was expecting a slap.

“Ugh, you’re not worth it.” Terry scoffed, turning away.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asked Siren kindly.

“Go away, Girl-Kevin.” Siren ordered, finally lowering his hands away from his face. “I have work to do, and you idiots have wasted enough of my time. _Сука блядь_.”

Natasha raised a brow at how casually he went right back to insults once the threat of retaliation was gone.

“I’m just trying to be friends,” she told him, “We’re going to be spending every day together, so wouldn’t it be better to at least be nice to each other?”

“No.” Siren responded, not even looking at her. 

“How did you steal his wallet?” She asked. “I never even saw you do it!”

Siren gave her a shrug.

“Did you learn that at the academy?”

“I don’t remember.” Siren answered, getting up from his desk.

Natasha cocked her head. “Don’t you have a photographic memory? How is it possible you don’t remember?”

Siren glanced up and a look a confusion crossed his face. Why **didn’t** he remember? He always remembered **everything**, so why couldn’t he remember the academy? Did he even go to the academy? He scratched at his head, his expression quickly becoming distressed. He had never really thought about it before, and that in itself was strange. 

Every memory he had was of this lab, and he froze as he considered what that meant. He wasn’t an idiot and he knew all about V.I.L.E’s habit of mind-erasing their operatives. Did they do that to him? He was just a scientist, why would they do that to him? He wasn’t even anyone important!

“It’ll be alright, bro,” Ted informed him, flashing him a goofy smile.

“What are you even talking about?” Siren demanded, throwing a pen at the other man.

For once, his aim was perfect and he watched as the pen sailed straight through Ted’s chest. He stared with wide eyes and felt his breath quicken, not fully comprehending what had happened. Beginning to tremble, he slowly crossed the room and approached him. Reaching out a hand towards him, his fingers passed right through him. Ted then faded from view and he was left staring at nothing. Siren began to shake even harder, staring wide-eyed where his assistant had just been. Fear began to course its way through him as he realized Ted had never been there.

Ted Roo...Teddy Roose...Theodore and Roosevelt. Ted wasn’t a real person, he was a memory.

Fire… There was fire everywhere, and screams surrounded him. Everyone was screaming, and there was nothing but pain and blackness all around him. The darkness was filled with death, and everyone was burning. The children were burning...

Siren clutched at his head and let out a feral scream. All the pain and memories came crashing over him in a suffocating wave, and he screamed and screamed, just wanting it to stop. Pulling at his hair, he fell to the floor and writhed in agony, his skull feeling like it was splitting open. He felt hands on him and the touch seemed to burn and he lashed out, knocking the person away. He curled into a ball of misery and kicked and hit at anyone who touched him.

Siren smashed everything within reach of him, and he could hear the guards yelling to him, but he ignored them, just wanting the pain to stop. They had taken everything from him, and he let out another scream, this one of pure frustration. They had stolen everything he cared about.

The memories were too much, he couldn’t handle it and Siren felt himself distancing himself from them, his mind going numb. He went quiet as his mind went into a foggy haze, and he sat up, still ignoring the guards. He began to rock back and forth feeling like the world was beginning to slip away from him. The pain was too much and he allowed it to happen, not wanting to deal with it.

He began to hum to himself, trying to calm down, and after a few minutes, he finally opened his eyes. Terry and Nastasha were kneeling down beside him, but he ignored them as he got back to his feet. Not stopping his humming, he stared around the lab in a daze, his mind quickly retreating further and further away. He began walking towards the door, having no real destination in mind, and he heard his guards yelling after him.

“Get Dr. Vess.” Terry ordered.

“He’s in a meeting with the faculty!” Natasha said in horror.

“Interrupt the meeting. We need him here **now**. I’ll get help while you get Vess.”

Terry hurried after Siren, as Natasha ran the opposite direction, having a feeling the faculty weren’t going to appreciate being interrupted.

Siren hummed louder and louder as he walked along, the familiar action helping with the bad feelings that welled within him. He found himself in the now empty cafeteria and he stared at the half-eaten birthday cake left on the table. Moving on autopilot, he reached for the cake-knife and was about to cut himself a slice when he heard a loud crash from the hallway. Approaching to investigate, he didn’t even realize he still had the knife in his hand. One of the cleaning staff had knocked over her cleaning cart and Siren stared at the mess uncomprehendingly. Stepping over the bottles and mops, he passed the cleaning woman without so much as a glance.

Siren’s humming turned into quiet singing and he could feel himself slipping further and further away from reality. He could sense Terry’s presence just behind him as they walked along, and he ignored him, having no interest in what the other man was doing. He walked along the halls aimlessly as he sang to himself, and he became aware that two more guards joined Terry.

When he took the stairwell down to the upper basement, they followed right along behind him, and Siren sang louder as he realized there was a good echo here. When he reached the upper basement, it was poorly lit and he found his eyes drawn to the shadows, the semi-darkness making him uneasy.

Siren stared upwards in the gloomy basement as he walked, his mind feeling detached, like he was an outsider looking in. He loved how his voice carried through the maze of hallways as he sang, and he closed his eyes, simply listening as his words echoed around him. He slowly spun in place and reached out his hands, his fingers brushing across the rough stone of the walls around him. The knife he held scraped along the wall with a sharp noise, and he opened his eyes, once again staring into the nothingness above him. The darkness seemed to press in from above, and so he sang louder and turned his eyes away. He would not think about the darkness.

Siren began slowly walking through the halls, his haunting song carrying through the basement like an ominous promise of death. Every bit of pain and sadness came out through his words, but he didn’t understand these emotions, and didn’t like the feeling of them. The world was a confusing and terrible mess, and Siren only wanted to enjoy his song. He spun around and around as he sang, the knife scraping the wall as he moved, and he felt hypnotized as a sense of calm came over him. Around and around he spun, his mind feeling like it was beginning to spiral along with him. Around and around the knife went, its noise now a part of his song. Around and around the world went, and he passed through the halls not caring where he ended up.

Siren sang his song loud and clear, allowing his mind to sink deep within himself, his song shielding him from everything around him. The world wasn’t a real place, and it was full of nothing but loneliness and pain, and he wanted no part in it. There was no pain while he hid within his song, and nothing could touch him here. 

He passed by door after door, but he wasn’t interested in them, ignoring the terrified patients as he walked along.

Around and around his mind went, his memories becoming a swirling mess of confusion and loneliness. He sang loud and clear, nothing else mattering to him, and he spun and spun, holding the knife tightly in his hand. He passed through hallway after hallway, and no one tried to stop him.

Siren’s spinning dance took him to a heavy metal door that was locked. A single touch of his hand to the keypad opened the door, and he now found himself outside.

The cold air bit at his skin as the snow blew around him, and he held up his arms towards the sky and simply spun. He stared at the untouched world of white around him and watched the snow spiral all around him. Everything was a spiral, and everything was spinning. Around and around he spun, his arms beginning to hurt from the bitter cold, but he barely noticed, closing his eyes against the harsh wind.

Suddenly he heard a voice calling out to him, and he slowly opened his eyes. That was an unpleasant sound. That was not part of his song. He stopped his spinning and looked over and saw three men and a woman standing in the open doorway, simply staring at him. One of them called out to him, but to him the words were noise and nothing more. He ignored them, not once pausing in his song, and once again he stared at the snow that spun all around him. He then joined its spinning once more, the white going around and around in his vision.

He felt irritated when once again the annoying sound of the guard’s voice pierced his song. His song was important, his song was everything, and he didn’t like having it interrupted. He slowed his spinning as the guards began to approach him, and he knew they were just part of the world that didn’t exist. They were part of the world that was full of pain and death, and he wanted nothing to do with it.

The guards’ black coats were like a stain on his beautiful white paradise unlike his own snow-white lab-coat. They kept making that horrible mouth noise at him, but he couldn’t understand the words, and he didn’t want to. He wanted the sound to stop and when the woman reached out towards him, Siren silenced her with one single swipe of his hand. There was a new sound that joined his song as the woman fell to the ground at his feet and he considered it thoughtfully. This was a noise he could easily ignore, imagining it to be the gurgle of a nearby stream. 

The remaining three men slowly backed away from him, and Siren felt hotness on his hand. He saw his hand was covered in red and as he looked down, he saw the snow was drenched in it. The colour of red against white was actually quite beautiful and Siren paused his spinning to kneel down beside it. The vibrant red stood out against the beautiful snow, and he reached a hand out towards it. The red was very warm, and he felt like this was now a part of his song. A song of red and white.

Siren put his hand to his face, and felt the warm stickiness against his skin and he once again closed his eyes. He couldn’t feel his hands or feet anymore but he continued his spinning, his song still not stopping. He didn’t want to stop. He never wanted his song to end.

He was quite annoyed when he once again heard someone interrupt his song. Opening his eyes, he saw a man stepping outside into the snow. This man wore a white coat like his and Siren stared at him, feeling like he looked familiar. He stared at the man’s black hair and his angry eyes, and Siren felt a tiny wave of lucidness cross his mind. Dr. Vess....this was Dr. Vess.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Vess commented, seeing the body of Natasha at Siren’s feet.

Siren was then grabbed harshly by the shoulders to stop his spinning, and the knife was taken from his unresisting hand. Siren stared up at Vess with glassy eyes, and without any hesitation, he was slapped hard across the face. It took two more slaps before Siren was brought back to reality, and it hit him like a ton of bricks. Every bad feeling he’d been holding at bay crashed back over him, and he began to cry hard, his song finally stopping.

Without a single word, Dr. Vess scooped the small man into his arms and then headed back for the building, the guards all too frightened to even approach. 

“Someone clean up this mess.” the doctor ordered furiously.

Siren closed his eyes and sobbed wholeheartedly, going completely limp in Vess’ hold. He knew he was in trouble when Vess forced a pill down his throat, but he wasn’t quite sure what he had done. Why did Vess look so angry? Siren shivered, just now noticing how cold he was, and he clutched at Vess’ coat, not realizing he was leaving a smear of red across the white fabric.

He had no idea what the pill was, but it was strong, and Siren found himself getting sleepy as Vess carried him through the hallways. He was barely able to keep his eyes open, and as they got on the elevator, he lost his grip on Vess’ coat. Fighting to stay awake, he shook his head, but the heaviness of sleep was pulling at him too strongly.

Only a couple minutes later, he became aware they were entering his bedroom. He was then tossed none too gently onto his bed, and Vess began stripping off Siren’s bloodsoaked clothes. Vess didn’t speak at all, but his expression was absolutely livid. Vess fetched a damp cloth from the bathroom and began scrubbing the blood off the other man in a business-like fashion. Siren was barely awake at this point and he squirmed in discomfort at the rough treatment, but Vess was persistent. 

When Siren was finally clean, Vess carelessly tossed a blanket over him, and simply turned and left the room without a single word. Siren blinked tiredly at the closed door, already feeling his memories beginning to fade away. A few moments later, Siren fell into a deep sleep and didn’t wake until the next day.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**Note: Sorry if there were too many OCs in this chapter, but they're getting focus for a reason, I promise. Crackle is currently around 22-23 in this fic, and when he thought he was 17, he was actually missing 5-6 years of memories, not just the three years he lost contact with his family.**

**I'm going to be taking a week off from writing and so the next chapter will be in 2 weeks on Feb. 12th.**

**UPDATE!!!!**

**Wellll, it looks like I missed my deadline of the 12th... I got distracted writing side-fics and didn't finish Broken 18 on time. It's about 2/3 of the way done and I should have it posted by the 14th or 15th at the latest. **

**Sorry guys!**

**All credit for these gorgeous pics goes to these wonderful artists!**

**Melodymeddly** ** is responsible for the Crackle/Steve pic**

**Violetfic** ** and **Sugarandmemories******are responsible for the Crackle Breakdown pic**

**Violetfic** ** is responsible for the 2 Siren pics. Dr. Vesalius is owned by Violetfic , and I am using him with her permission.**

**Coulrosaurus** ** is responsible for the Zack/Mime Bomb pic.**

**Credit for the names of Otterman and Moose Boy go to ** **Animedemon01**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**

**Please don't forget to let me know what you think!**


	18. Captive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone!
> 
> I'm going to be taking another week off from posting and so the next chapter will be in 2 weeks on Feb. 29th.
> 
> I'm really hoping you guys like this chapter, because I worked extremely hard on it this week! This is the longest chapter yet in Broken at 21,000 words! o_O ...I may have gone a little overboard on this one.
> 
> An enormous thank you to the very awesome Violetfic for being my beta and offering VERY good suggestions to help improve this chapter.
> 
> Please note that Dr. Vess and Michael Jr. both use the F-word extremely frequently in their everyday speech. You have been warned.
> 
> If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 18**

**Captive**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Team Red pulled over when they saw Team Crackle’s van had stopped by the side of the road. To their surprise, they saw Crackle exit the van, and then run to a garbage can to vomit. They watched him as he spent a few minutes clutching the garbage can, and when he finally straightened up, he was looking a bit pale. Crackle spoke with Theodore for a few moments, and then the enormous man got back into the van and it drove off, leaving Crackle behind. Crackle was still holding his stomach and looking a bit ill, and Carmen frowned worriedly.

“He’s sick,” she said.

“I guess not much has changed since training,” Tigress observed in amusement.

Carmen gave her a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

Tigress rolled her eyes. “Don’t you remember how Crackle always used to get motion sickness every time we had to drive anywhere? The first time we were driven in one of Dr. Bellum’s speed cruisers, he puked right into Antonio’s lap.”

Carmen had forgotten about that. “Oh yeah!” she said in realization. “He also threw up on Coach Brunt in first term during endurance training. She never quite forgave him for that.”

Tigress frowned and brushed her hair out of her face. “...I **do** miss that idiot,” she admitted, “As irritating as he was, he was still part of our little group.”

Carmen nodded her agreement. “Gray was always so happy, and always ready to have fun and joke around.”

“He was very immature,” Shadowsan commented, “He was always getting hurt in very foolish ways during training.”

Tigress shot Carmen a grin who immediately knew what the other girl was thinking of.

“The bungee incident,” they both said at the same time.

They started laughing hard, and everyone else in the car gave them a puzzled look. Shadowsan let out an exasperated sigh, not even wanting to ask.

Tigress grinned widely. “When we carried him to the infirmary, I thought Dr. Vess was going to tear Gray’s head right off for being so stupid.”

Carmen returned the grin. “Good old Dr. Vess. He never hesitated to tell you exactly how stupid you were being.”

“How many stitches did Gray have to get again?”

Carmen shook her head in amusement. “Twelve,” she answered, “He was walking funny for two weeks.”

Tigress snorted. “And yet he still claimed he meant to do that.”

Carmen smiled fondly at the memory, and she watched as Crackle entered a Chinese Grocery. “Okay, I’m going to follow Gray, you guys follow after the van.”

“I’ll go with you,” Shadowsan said, getting out of the car.

As the others drove off after the van before they lost sight of it, Carmen and Shadowsan hid behind a telephone pole as Crackle left the grocers. He took a sip of tea, pulled a face and then tossed it out, clearly not liking it.

Carmen and Shadowsan observed the odd interactions Crackle had with people on the street, and they followed his every move. They watched the phone call Crackle made, certain the villain was planning something. They were keeping their distance so they wouldn’t be seen, and although they couldn’t hear what was being said, they could tell by his body language that he was upset about something. When Crackle fell to his knees clutching his head, Carmen immediately started towards him to help, but Shadowsan caught her by the wrist.

“Wait.” he ordered.

“Shadowsan, something’s wrong!” Carmen said, staring at Crackle in worry.

“Just wait.” he said, eyes on the villain.

Crackle suddenly straightened back up and then walked off like nothing had happened. Carmen frowned in concern, feeling in her gut that something was seriously wrong with Crackle.

He seemed to be just wandering the streets at random, and they were beginning to suspect he knew they were following him. After hours of him pretty much going around the uptown area in a giant circle, they finally saw Double Trouble approach. Crackle spoke with them for a moment and then began following them down the street. Crackle suddenly ducked down into an alley, and they watched closely, having a feeling he was planning something. 

To their complete shock, they watched as Crackle struggled to hold onto a mangy street cat as it screamed and attacked him. Crackle rolled on the ground with a shriek but kept a hold of the cat until it finally calmed down.

Seeing Crackle like this was actually a bit of a relief, since this was **exactly** something that would have happened to the old Crackle. At least she knew her friend was still in there somewhere.

“That cat must be carrying something,” Shadowsan stated thoughtfully.

“Like what?” Carmen asked, squinting at the cat suspiciously.

“Team Crackle clearly didn’t want us to find it since they went to so much trouble to lose us on the streets, and so it must be a weapon of some sort.”

“Inside a cat?!” Carmen asked in horror.

“It’s not unheard of,” Shadowsan replied. “But the most common way would be to attach something to its collar.”

Carmen frowned at Crackle, wondering if he’d ever actually do something like that. Crackle had always loved animals, and she could never picture him willingly hurting one. Crackle was different however, and she wasn’t quite sure what to think now. Raising a hand to her face where he’d slapped her, she frowned, and then watched as Crackle continued walking away with Double Trouble.

They followed them at a distance and she was surprised to see they headed for a dingy motel. They watched them enter one of the rooms, and Carmen glanced around and saw the rest of Team Red watching from nearby. Approaching the car, she and Shadowsan got in and she was met with a scowl from Tigress.

“What took you so long?” she complained. “You were gone for **hours**!”

“Crackle was trying to lose us,” Carmen responded, “We had to follow him all over the city! What did you guys find out?”

“They’ve been staying in this motel,” Chase confirmed, “I spoke with the motel manager, and he confirmed they’ve been here since the end of June.”

Julia nodded her agreement. “While Chase spoke with the manager, I looked at the computer records and it looks like they’ve been paying in cash daily. The names attached to the room are all fake of course.”

“We know where they are now, and so now we have to come up with a plan of attack,” Carmen stated, “We need to plan carefully so that no one gets hurt.”

“They’re not going to come quietly,” Tigress pointed out.

“If we corner them, we should be able to overpower them,” Carmen insisted.

Tigress crossed her arms. “And then what? Throw them in the basement with Neal? Gonna get a bit crowded down there.”

“We just need to make them listen to us,” Carmen replied. “They’re people, and they’re capable of rational thought. We’ll explain everything to them, and then we’ll get Gray help. Once he remembers everything, he’ll be able to help convince the others.”

Tigress snorted. “You’re living in a fairytale,” she responded, “They’re **never** going to join us.”

Carmen frowned. “You guys joined us,” she pointed out.

Tigress rolled her eyes. “Not really by choice,” she responded, “It was either join **you** losers or face V.I.L.E’s wrath.”

“You would never return to V.I.L.E, would you?” Chase asked in alarm.

Tigress’ expression became troubled for just a moment and she glanced towards the motel with a frown. “No,” she answered in a subdued tone, “I could never go back...not now. Life is...better here.”

Ivy gave her a nudge and a smile. “Aw, I always knew you loved us.”

Tigress immediately scowled at her and looked away. “You’re all still losers though.”

“Let’s get back to base so we can begin planning,” Carmen suggested.

“Sure thing, Carm,” Ivy said turning on the ignition.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

“I think we need to contact V.I.L.E…” Theodore said hesitantly.

“No shit.” Roosevelt snapped at his brother.

Everyone was staring at Crackle who still hadn’t regained consciousness. Theodore had moved him onto one of the beds, and every few minutes, Crackle would go into another series of convulsions.

“Grab me my com and I’ll contact Dr. Bellum.” Dash ordered. “It’s in my jacket pocket.”

“I think we should wait,” Paper Star suggested, watching Crackle with a thoughtful frown.

“What? Why?” Dash demanded, wincing as he shifted to look at her.

“What if V.I.L.E sees this as a failure?” she commented. “We haven’t completed our mission, and we’ve already had to contact them about **you** . This makes us look **incredibly** incompetent. How many times will they allow us to screw up before they decide to just dispose of us?”

Dash stared at her with wide eyes for a moment, and then let out a dismissive scoff.

“You don’t believe me?” she demanded, narrowing her eyes.

“V.I.L.E’s not going to punish us for something that’s out of our control,” he challenged, “It’s not my fault I got sick, and this isn’t Graham’s fault.”

Paper Star crossed her arms. “What world are you living in, Dash?” she challenged, “V.I.L.E wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of us the second our usefulness is compromised. We only hold value if they think we can still be used. If they deem us failures, they have no reason to keep us around.”

Dash furrowed his brow. “No, they would just reassign us,” he responded, “Even if the team was dissolved, they would still be able to use us. I would likely go back to being a courier.”

Paper Star shook her head. She wanted her teammates dead, but only under her own terms. If they came across as bumbling idiots, she would chance her own safety and she’d **never** allow that. If her memories were erased and she was sent back to Tokyo, she’d be killed the second she got off the plane. For right now, she needed to make sure V.I.L.E thought they were doing a good job. V.I.L.E didn’t know they’d lost Neal, and as long as the rest of them somehow killed Carmen, they probably wouldn’t care about that.

“Graham needs medical treatment and I’m calling them,” Dash said firmly, wincing as the cat dug its claws into his back. “And could someone get this damn thing off my back?”

Roosevelt approached and reached for the cat who immediately poofed up and snarled at him, swiping at the huge man with its claws. 

“Ow, ow, nevermind!” Dash cried out, “Back away from the deformed cat!”

Roosevelt backed away and the cat immediately settled down again, glaring around the room making a low growling noise.

“Is anyone going to explain why there’s a cat in here?” Dash demanded.

“It’s part of Crackle’s plan,” Roosevelt replied.

Dash glanced over his shoulder at the ugly one-eyed cat and frowned. “Wait...really? Did he say that?”

The twins exchanged a look.

“Well...not exactly, but he seemed to think the cat was important when he found it,” Theodore replied.

Dash looked the cat up and down. “What use could he **possibly** have for this thing?”

The twins shrugged. 

“Someone hand me my com,” Dash ordered, going back to ignoring the cat.

“No.” Paper Star said, her tone going icy. “You’re **not** contacting the faculty!”

Dash eyed her warily. “Graham needs help.”

“We’ll take him to the hospital under a fake name, but we are **not** telling V.I.L.E something is wrong.” she replied. “Touch that com and I’ll cut your arm off.”

Dash narrowed his eyes at her, unsure whether the threat was serious or not. He wasn’t dumb enough to challenge her however, and so he gave a nod.

Double Trouble were looking back and forth between Dash and Paper Star, clearly trying to figure out who was right in this circumstance. 

“I...I think a hospital would be Crackle’s best bet,” Theodore stated, “He needs help right now and we can’t wait for Dr. Vess to come all the way back.”

Roosevelt nodded along with his brother. “Hospital,” he agreed.

Dash nodded reluctantly. “Alright, we’ll do things your way. Pass me my com so you can keep me updated while you’re gone.”

Roosevelt tossed him his com which Dash awkwardly caught, and he watched as Theodore picked up Crackle gently.

“Are all of you going?” Dash asked, wishing he could get up.

When everyone nodded, he once again frowned at the cat. 

“If this...**thing** is really necessary, you should probably pick up a litterbox or something so it doesn’t pee on the beds.”

“Oh, good idea,” Roosevelt said with a nod, “I’ll grab some kibble too.”

Dash pulled a face. “Maybe if it gets hungry enough it will go away.”

“We’re not going to starve Steve,” Theodore said firmly.

Dash winced. “I can’t believe you guys named this thing.”

“Crackle named it,” Roosevelt replied, “We’re keeping the cat until we find out what we’re supposed to do with it.”

Dash sighed and said nothing more, and so they began heading for the door with Crackle.

“We’ll call you as soon as we get to the hospital,” Theodore assured him, “Call us if you need anything.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Dash replied, “Just make sure you don’t let Graham out of your sight. I wouldn’t put it past the Crimson Crusader to track you guys down.”

Paper Star twirled a throwing star in her hand with a smirk. “I hope she **does** find us,” she stated.

Dash rested his chin on his arm and watched as his teammates left. The second they were gone, the cat finally left his back and walked up the edge of the bed, taking a seat beside Dash’s pillow. 

“Oh, gross, get away!” Dash protested, trying to shoo it away.

He didn’t want to actually touch it however, and so the cat just ignored him and settled itself down comfortably.

“Ugh,” Dash complained, “You smell like garbage.”

Dash glared at the cat, thinking it was the ugliest thing he’d ever seen. Seemingly content and unafraid, the cat began grooming its paws and Dash simply watched it in disgust.

“It’s going to take a lot more than **that**, you disgusting fleabag,” he told it.

The cat glanced at him with its one good eye and was clearly unconcerned with Dash’s presence.

“Did someone throw you in a woodchipper?” Dash mused, looking the hideous cat up and down. “You barely even look like a cat.”

Bored and having nothing else to do, Dash simply stared at the cat as it groomed itself, wondering if the cat really did have some sort of purpose. What could Crackle possibly have planned for it? Was he going to use it as a distraction in some kind of robbery? Maybe he was going to use it to test the motion sensors inside a building?

After a few minutes, Dash very cautiously reached out a single finger towards the cat. Steve stopped grooming and watched him warily, but didn’t hiss or seem in any way aggressive. Dash then hesitantly scratched the cat under the chin, and it immediately released a rough and odd sound that caused Dash to raise a brow in question.

“Is that how you purr?” he demanded, “Even your purr is gross.”

Dash continued scratching the cat’s chin for a moment, mildly amused by the noises coming out of it. He then sneezed, and let out a sigh as he glared at the cat.

“I think I’m allergic to you, you mangy dirtball.”

Steve simply closed its eye contentedly, and Dash turned his gaze to his com. He felt like Paper Star was wrong, and they were likely to get into huge trouble if they tried to hide such an important thing from the faculty. He had witnessed a lot of operatives get reemed over the coals by Countess Cleo, and the ones who tried to hide their misdeeds were always punished the worst.

Debating on what he should do, he finally turned his com on and then dialed Dr. Bellum. The call rang and rang and went unanswered. Frowning, he then tried the main faculty number, knowing it would cause all faculty phones to ring.

This time it only rang twice before the call was answered. Roundabout’s face appeared on the screen, and Dash hesitated, not really having any experiences with the man. Roundabout stared at the pretty operative, who was clearly laying in bed, and gave him a puzzled frown. It took him a second, but then he recognized who Dash was, and he sat straight up in his seat.

“Dash Haber,” he greeted.

“Hello, Instructor Roundabout,” Dash responded.

“I heard about your appendicitis,” Roundabout commented, “I trust you’ve begun to recover?”

Dash gave him a nod. “Yes, I’m doing a lot better.”

Roundabout gave him a questioning look. “What do you need, Mr. Haber?” he asked, “I was right in the middle of something important.”

“I think whatever Dr. Bellum did to Crackle has seriously damaged his mind,” Dash replied, deciding to just get right to the point.

Roundabout simply stared at him in confusion. “What did Dr. Bellum do to Crackle?” he asked a bit hesitantly.

“I-I’m not sure,” Dash admitted with a troubled look, “His mind has been erased at least twice, and this time all of his memories were gone. His personality has been altered and he has been acting irrationally lately.”

Dash turned the com so Roundabout could see Steve.

“He dragged this cat to our motel room, and then had a violent seizure. The rest of my team took him to the hospital under a fake name.”

Roundabout had heard nothing of any sort of mind experiments on operatives, and this troubled him a lot. There was supposed to be paperwork on this sort of thing, but clearly Dr. Bellum had been trying to hide this.

“Who have you reported this to?” Roundabout demanded.

“I tried to call Dr. Bellum, but she didn’t pick up. You’re the only one who knows right now.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way,” Roundabout said, “I will cover for you, just this once, so the other faculty don’t find out your team broke protocol by taking Crackle to the hospital. Mention this to no one.”

Dash furrowed his brow but gave a nod all the same.

“Tell me, what is your team’s mission, Dash Haber?”

Dash was confused, knowing very well Roundabout knew their mission. “Kill Carmen Sandiego and her team,” he replied.

“Have any of the faculty given you **additional** orders?”

Dash shook his head with a frown. “No.”

“Have any of your teammates done anything that seemed unusual or suspicious?”

Again Dash shook his head, wondering why Roundabout was asking him this. Did he suspect one or more of Team Crackle were defecting?

Roundabout frowned at him for a moment. “I’m going to handle Crackle personally,” he informed Dash, “Contact me with any updates on his condition.”

“Yes, Sir,” Dash answered respectfully.

As soon as Roundabout disconnected the call, he felt incredibly troubled. He had seen no documentation about any sort of mind experiments involving Crackle. He recalled seeing the report of the first time he had been given a mind erase, but apparently there had been additional erases done.

Roundabout slowly got up from his desk, grabbing his cane as he did so. He began pacing in front of the large office window, trying to figure this out. Were Maelstrom and Bellum working together on some sort of secret project? He’d never heard of V.I.L.E taking **all** of an operatives memories before and knew this was unusually cruel, even for them. If an operative lost everything, they wouldn’t even be the same person anymore.

Roundabout stared out the window with a deep frown as he considered this. Someone would have had to re-train Crackle from scratch and this would have taken a lot of time and money to do so. There had to be some sort of papertrail involving this…

Glancing down at his com, Roundabout pulled up Crackle’s operative file and then scrolled through it, looking for anything that didn’t make sense. To his surprise, all mentions of the first mind erase were gone from the file as if it had never happened. As he carefully looked through the information, he saw it had been altered to appear as though Crackle had been with V.I.L.E during the entire time he had spent a year in Sydney. There were fake mission reports and everything.

Why were they going to such extremes to hide this? Normally Bellum loved bragging about her advancements in mind alterations, but something was different about Crackle. There was something about Crackle that Bellum and Maelstrom didn’t want discovered. What could it be?

Staring down at the screen of his com, Roundabout bit his index finger as he thought about this.

Maelstrom was hiding large expenses through Dr. Vesalius, and so was the doctor involved with this somehow, or was he just a bystander whatever scheme the was? The faculty were **never** supposed to hide things from each other, and this had Roundabout incredibly concerned. What were they planning? Why did they feel they had to hide it from him?

Knowing he would have to be incredibly careful while investigating this, he decided he would take a closer look into the enormous expenses taking place in Dr. Vesalius’ lab.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

When Team Red arrived back at their base, Ivy was **not** impressed when she found out Neal and El Topo had slept the entire time they were gone. She had gone down to the basement and thoroughly scolded the both of them, and El Topo was instantly ashamed. He apologized profusely for falling asleep on the job, but Neal simply laughed at her attempts at making him feel guilty. It was clear he wasn’t bothered by her anger in the least, and when Ivy was finally through venting, she had shoved a Chinese take-out box into his hands and then stormed away.

Neal watched her go in amusement and El Topo gave him a frown.

“You’re not going to keep everyone awake all night again, are you?” he asked worriedly.

Neal didn’t answer, but his smirk was telling enough.

“_ Dios mío _,” El Topo sighed to himself, “Neal, you are going to get yourself in trouble.”

“Then tell them to let me go,” Neal responded, opening the take-out box. “Oh, nice, a combo.”

“Please don’t do this,” El Topo begged, “Don’t keep pushing everyone’s patience like this. You **know** they’re not going to let you go.”

Neal took a bite of an eggroll and gave him a look that clearly said he thought differently.

“If they decide to gag you or something, don’t say I didn’t try to warn you,” El Topo said with a weary sigh, getting to his feet. “Do you need any more ice for your ankle?”

Neal glanced down at his foot, gave it an experimental bend and then immediately winced. “Yeah, I think that would help,” he admitted, “I don’t suppose any of Team Red wears contacts, do they?”

El Topo cocked his head at the odd question. “No, not that I know of. Why?”

Neal rubbed at his eyes which were feeling dry and irritated. “I’ve been wearing these contacts for like three days now and I think I should probably take them out...”

El Topo had no idea that Neal wore contacts and he glanced at the other man’s eyes, seeing that they were looking a bit red.

“I’ll ask the others, but I don’t think we have anything that could help you,” he responded. 

Neal let out a deep sigh, knowing he’d probably have to dispose of them, leaving him with poor eyesight. Although his vision was pretty bad, he could still function pretty well without them, and knew he could still escape if the occasion arose. 

“It’s fine, Antonio, I’ll just throw them out. I have several packages of them back with my team.”

El Topo nodded, still looking at Neal’s eyes worriedly. He didn’t know anything about contacts, but he hoped the redness wasn’t the sign of an infection or something. He wasn’t going to allow another situation like Dash’s to happen, and so he was going to inform the others and then keep an eye on him to make sure he was alright.

“I’ll be right back with your icepack,” he said, heading for the stairs. “Do you want a drink to go with your food?”

“Probably safe to say you kids don’t have beer, right?”

El Topo smiled. “How about a Pepsi?”

Neal laughed. “Yeah, sounds great, Antonio.”

El Topo jogged up the basement stairs, and when he entered the living room, he was met with the sight of the rest of the team watching tv while eating. Le Chèvre had saved a spot for him on the couch and El Topo saw his own food waiting for him.

“We’re going to watch a movie,” Tigress called over to him, “Some stupid action movie or something.”

Ivy scoffed at her. “Bite yer tongue!” she scolded. “Robocop is a classic!”

Tigress rolled her eyes and said nothing more.

“Sleep well, mon ami?” Le Chèvre teased with a smile.

El Topo’s face reddened. “_ Si _…”

Le Chèvre laughed. “It’s fine, Antonio,” he assured him, “We are all tired after last night.”

El Topo winced. “...I think Neal is going to do it again tonight…”

Instantly everyone turned to stare at him.

“**What**?!” Tigress snarled angrily, “Are you kidding me?!”

El Topo shook his head. “He thinks he’s going to wear you down until he’s released.”

Carmen let out a deep sigh. “We’re not going to release him just because he’s annoying.”

“If he keeps me awake tonight, I’m going to rip out his tongue,” Tigress vowed.

“Guys?” Player’s voice cut in.

“Hey, Player,” Carmen greeted, “What’s up?”

“Um...you may have to delay your movie. I’ve been busy doing research for the last several hours and there’s something you guys need to know…”

Shadowsan turned the television off. “What is it?” he demanded.

“You know how Zack and Mime Bomb contacted us earlier?”

Carmen nodded. “Yes, is everything alright?”

“No,” Player responded, “No, it’s not.”

Ivy dropped her fork and was instantly to her feet. “What happened?! Is Zack Okay? Did anybody get hurt? What happened? I **knew** I never should have let him go!”

“They’re fine, Ivy. No one got hurt,” Player quickly assured her, “They’re on a plane headed home now. They have to make a stop in New York because of the pilot, but then they’re headed to San Diego.”

“What happened?” Ivy demanded.

“Well…” Player began, trying to think of where to start. “Mime Bomb finally met with his sister...but then something happened.”

Carmen furrowed her brow in concern as Player continued.

“Several men showed up in a van and they tried to take Mime Bomb. They knew exactly who he was and somehow knew he was back in Wales. They shot at them with tranquilizer darts, but luckily Zack and Mime Bomb were able to get away.”

Ivy looked like she was going to have a heart attack. “Oh my god! I have to call Zack!”

“They’re in the air, Ivy, you won’t be able to reach them. I promise they’re fine.”

“V.I.L.E.” Carmen said angrily. “They just can’t leave him alone!”

“Er...no, not V.I.L.E…for once.” Player said hesitantly.

“What do you mean?” Carmen asked in alarm, “Who else is after him?”

“Well, remember when we were investigating Mime Bomb’s past, someone was trying to erase all traces of him?”

“The people who kidnapped him?”

Player once again hesitated. “Yes, and there’s something else I found out…”

“Well, what is it, squirt?” Tigress said impatiently.

“I found out Mime Bomb’s real name…um, I don’t really know what to make of it though...”

“Oh!” Carmen said in surprise, “That’s good you found out, why are you acting so strange about it?”

“...His name is Volkov… Yuri Volkov.”

To everyone’s shock, Chase was instantly to his feet, his expression horrified like he’d just seen a ghost. “Volkov?!” he repeated, “The mime’s name is VOLKOV?!”

“You know who they are?!” Player exclaimed in surprise.

Chase was completely pale, and he backed up a step and shook his head. “Are you sure?” he demanded, “Are you **sure** his name is VOLKOV?”

“Yes, Zack and Mime Bomb confirmed it with me.”

Chase clenched his hands into fists. “How old is Mime Bomb?” he demanded.

“Twenty-two. I think,” Player answered, “Why?”

Chase clenched his jaw tightly. “...probably not,” he said to himself. “...but still possible.”

Julia reached out and laid a gentle hand on Chase’s arm. “Chase?” she questioned.

“Where was Mime Bomb three years ago in October?” he demanded. “October 13th.”

“He was in V.I.L.E academy three years ago,” Carmen replied, “He was in my class.”

Chase released a breath of relief. “It wasn’t him.”

“Chase, what’s going on?” Julia asked, “Tell us what’s wrong.”

“I know of Volkov…” he admitted, sinking down into his chair with a defeated air. “What do you know, Player? I can help fill in any gaps in what you found out.”

“Do you remember how I mentioned the word Volkov kept coming up in my research, Red?”

Carmen honestly didn’t remember that, but nodded all the same.

“Every time I researched Mime Bomb or the Finnegans, Volkov kept coming up over and over again. Everywhere I looked, that same word kept appearing. I tried searching it, but the only Volkov I could find was a fancy lab in Russia that bred designer dogs for rich people that went out of business like ten years ago.”

“Do you know who Volkov are now? Did they change their name?” Le Chèvre demanded. “What did Mime Bomb tell you?”

“They were really upset when they were talking to me and still drugged from the darts and so they didn’t talk long. Mime Bomb promised he’s going to explain everything once they’re home.”

“Drugged?!” Ivy screeched.

“They both got hit with a tranquilizer dart as they got on the plane. They just need to sleep it off and they’ll be fine,” Player assured her. “The pilot as keeping a close eye on them.”

Ivy clutched her head. “Ugh, Zack’s going to be the death of me… The **one** time I let him out of my sight, **this** happens!”

Carmen turned her gaze to Chase. “What can you tell us?” she asked, “How do you know the name Volkov?”

She watched as a dozen emotions crossed Chase’s face before he finally took a deep breath. “I was once married…” he began hesitantly.

Julia instantly reached over and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Carmen had already looked into Chase and knew about his marriage, but she didn’t say anything.

“My wife’s name was Yu Yan, and she was my partner at Interpol,” he explained, “We met back in 2005, and we worked together for years before dating. We married in 2009, and we had a one year old daughter named Diana at the time of the...incident.”

Everyone stared at him in surprise, but no one interrupted.

“Yu Yan and I were a perfect team, and we were always assigned the most difficult missions. We began investigating a strange series of crimes within Europe, and we soon realized there was some sort of organized crime ring. Everything was connected, and could be traced to one source. There were thefts, murders, smuggling, drugs, and everything all seemed to connect. It was a giant spider web of crime with this one organization in the middle.”

We of course informed Interpol of our suspicions, and we were ordered to continue our investigations in secret. They wanted us to gather evidence so we could take them down in one fell swoop. We didn’t realize there was a leak within Interpol, and it didn’t take the criminals long to find us. They targeted us since we were the lead investigators. I left to go to the gym one morning and when I returned, my wife had been viciously slaughtered.”

“And...and your daughter?” El Topo asked cautiously.

Chase’s expression twisted into a pained look. “They took her. I received a phone call from someone who sounded like just a teenager. The boy spoke in English and told me that I was to cease all investigations into Volkov or he would kill Diana. He swore that if I so much as google-searched Volkov, he’d mail me pieces of her. The boy assured me that as long as I stopped investigating, she would be adopted into a loving family somewhere outside the country. She would be safe and she would be happy.

I had already requested the surveillance footage for all the streets surrounding my house and the tapes arrived the next morning. When I watched the one from my street, I could just make out the sight of a teenage boy kick down our front door. The footage was too blurry to make out his face. He was inside for thirty-seven minutes and when he came out, he was holding my daughter.

All evidence disappeared from Interpol, and it was like there had never been an investigation at all”

“Oh my god...Chase!” Julia gasped, throwing her arms around him in a hug. “I had no idea! They never told me the details of any of this…”

Chase stared down at the floor. “They seemed to think we knew more than we did, because up until that phone call, I had never heard the name Volkov before. I now knew the name of the criminal organization we had been investigating.”

“Is your daughter safe?” El Topo asked, fearing the worst.

Chase was silent for a long moment. “No.”

“They killed her?”

“I suspect they did because I never received any sort of proof she was alive. If she** is** alive, then she’s definitely not safe. There’s no way such evil people would place a child with a good family.”

Carmen exchanged a look with Shadowsan. “Have you heard of Volkov before?”

Shadowsan grew thoughtful. “There was a business partner of V.I.L.E’s by the name of Volkov a long time ago, but I never had any dealings with them. I did not normally deal with that sort of thing. I thought they had dissolved as an organization, but perhaps I was wrong…”

“How were they partnered with V.I.L.E?” Carmen asked. “What did Volkov do?”

Shadowsan shook his head. “I apologize, but I am not certain. All I know is that there was a massive disagreement about ten years ago between V.I.L.E and Volkov. V.I.L.E sent nearly five hundred operatives to deal with the situation and they were **all** killed. It was a huge blow for V.I.L.E, and there are very few operatives left between the ages of 28-35. To my knowledge, Volkov was completely wiped out…”

Shadowsan then frowned as he thought of something. “Actually...about four or five years ago a group of operatives were sent to Russia to deal with a problem. I think it was something about another organization encroaching on our territory. We sent up the graduating class of 2013 and 2014 with a few negotiators. All except one man was killed.”

“Geez…” Ivy commented, “Lucky guy.”

“Or unlucky…” Le Chèvre commented, “He would have seen all of his classmates and friends die. I don’t think I could have handled that.”

“Dash Haber never had friends at the academy,” Shadowsan commented, “He never completed his training, and has always been a loner.”

“**Dash** was the survivor?!” Carmen cried out in horror.

Shadowsan nodded. “It surprised us too, to be honest. Dash Haber may not look like it, but he’s a survivor. As with most V.I.L.E students, he came from a bad home, and this shapes how one reacts to danger. I have a feeling that he’s had to fight for survival his whole life, and he’s at his most dangerous when cornered.”

“So...if Mime Bomb’s last name is Volkov…” Julia said a bit hesitantly.

“His father is most likely involved in **all** of this,” Chase finished for her, his expression darkening. “If we discover the mime is in **any** way involved in this, I can’t promise how I’ll react.”

“Mime Bomb would **never**!” Ivy cried out, offended on his behalf. “He’s just a sweet dorky little guy. He’d never hurt anyone!”

“It seems unlikely,” Shadowsan agreed, “But he **does** know more than he’s been letting on. He needs to explain everything to us once and for all.”

Chase was clenching his fists so tightly his knuckles were white. “If Volkov still exists, we need to take them down.”

Everyone exchanged a look, and Chase suddenly turned away from them.

“With or without you, I will take them down. I’m not going to allow them to destroy any more families. My daughter is gone, my wife is gone, and all I want to see is those responsible pay.”

“We’re a team Chase,” Carmen said firmly, “We will always stand with you. First, we need to find out exactly who Volkov are, and what they’re responsible for, and then we can begin making a plan. Once Mime Bomb and Zack arrive, we’ll finally be able to get some answers.”

“Their plane is due to arrive in fifteen hours,” Player informed them.

Carmen glanced around at her team, and had a feeling things were going to get a lot more difficult. Chase left the room without a word, and she watched him go sadly, knowing this was going to be hard for him.

“**Oy, Antonio, did you forget about me**?!” came a bellow from the basement.

“Oh, Neal!” El Topo said in realization, “I was getting him an icepack and a drink and completely forgot!”

“That greasy jerk had better not keep me awake tonight,” Tigress muttered.

“I’ll be right back,” El Topo said to the others as he hurried from the room.

Carmen glanced over at Shadowsan. “I think we need to speak with Dash Haber.”

He gave her a nod. “I agree.”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Otterman looked up from his notebook and rubbed at his head, feeling a headache coming on. They only had enough money to stay at the motel for a little over a week, and that left no money for food. If they stayed six days in the motel, they could buy cheap food like bread, peanut butter and ramen, and they would have just enough left over for two city transit passes. Renting a car was completely out of the question.

Moose Boy was hovering over his shoulder, looking down at the paper with a worried look on his face. [[Is it bad?]] he asked.

Otterman sighed. [[Yes,]] he replied, not bothering to elaborate.

[[What can we do?]] Moose Boy asked, [[Finish the mission quickly?]]

Otterman tapped the pen on his knee, simply staring at the numbers in front of him. [[There’s no way to make this work,]] he stated, [[We need more money.]]

Moose Boy scratched at his head. [[Are we going to steal?]]

Otterman frowned. [[We can’t do anything that will jeopardize our mission. If we get caught stealing, or if a security camera sees us, Roundabout will likely have our minds erased.]]

Moose Boy furrowed his brow, thinking hard. [[Then what can we do?]]

Otterman glanced up at him. [[We have to steal from someone who won’t report it.]]

[[A dead person? Are we going to dig up dead people?]]

Otterman sighed. [[No, Henrik, we’re not going to become graverobbers. We’ll have to steal from other criminals.]]

[[That...sounds dangerous,]] Moose Boy commented.

[[It’s **extremely** dangerous to steal from other criminals,]] Otterman confirmed, [[This will take a lot of planning if we don’t want to end up shot. We’ll have to start off small first...]]

Moose Boy’s gaze went to Otterman’s back worriedly. [[You can barely walk, how are we going to do a heist?]]

Otterman popped one of the pain pills into his mouth. [[Once this starts to work, I was thinking we should start with a few criminals a little closer to home…]]

[[We’re going back to Sweden?!]]

Otterman rolled his eyes. [[No, genius, we’re going to steal from Team Crackle!]]

Moose Boy’s eyes widened. [[Oh!]] he exclaimed, [[Can...can we **do** that?!]]

[[Well… they’re at least a **little** less likely to kill us if they catch us,]] Otterman commented, [[We can just claim it was a prank or something.]]

Moose Boy gave a nod and took a seat next to him on the bed. [[How are we going to do it?]]

Otterman honestly had no idea. [[How about if we start by watching them?]] he suggested, [[You go keep an eye on them, and **don’t** let them see you.]]

[[I can do that!]] Moose Boy assured him, [[I’ll be sneaky like a...like a...moose.]]

Otterman stared at him and then very slowly and carefully got to his feet. [[Nevermind, I think I’ll do this myself…]]

Otterman was still stiff from the long plane journey, but he could at least walk a little better than he could the day before. As he hobbled his way to the door, Moose Boy hovered over him worriedly.

[[Are you sure you’ll be alright? Do you need help?]]

[[I’m fine, Henrik, I’d tell you if I needed help.]]

Moose Boy frowned. [[No, you wouldn’t,]] he responded, [[You’re too stubborn to ever ask for help.]]

Otterman glared at him, but couldn’t deny it. He opened the door and then peered out cautiously. The parking lot was empty and so he slowly made his way outside with Moose Boy right on his heels. Team Crackle were staying in the room at the end of the building and so they approached their room, keeping an eye out for any operatives.

Otterman peeked in one of the windows, but couldn’t see anything because of the curtains. Supporting his weight by placing a hand on the wall, he made his way to the other windows and peered in. Although the curtains were drawn, there was a tiny crack allowing him to see into the room. The room appeared to be empty as far as he could tell, but his eyesight wasn’t exactly reliable.

[[Henrik, is the room empty?]] he whispered.

Moose Boy leaned over him and peeked into the window. “_ Nej _,” he replied, [[Someone is asleep in bed.]]

[[Is there just one person inside?]] he demanded.

Moose Boy nodded.

Otterman knew Dash Haber was recovering from an operation, and it was likely him that was in bed. Knowing Dash was probably on a whole assortment of medications, he was willing to bet that he would be extremely difficult to wake up. He gave another glance around the parking lot, knowing this would probably be his only opportunity before the rest of the team returned.

[[You be lookout,]] Otterman ordered, [[Hide around the side of the building out of sight. I’m going in to see what I can get]]

[[With someone in there?!]]

[[I’ll be very quiet,]] Otterman assured him, [[He probably won’t even wake up.]]

Moose Boy gave him an uncertain look. [[If you need me to come, just call for me…]] 

[[Just don’t be seen!]] Otterman warned him, [[And be quiet. Don’t come into the room unless I call for you.]]

[[Yes, Sven. I understand,]] Moose Boy assured him, [[I promise I won’t let you down again.]]

Otterman gave him a nod, and then pulled his lock-picking kit out of his pocket. Quietly picking the door lock, he waited a moment to make sure Dash hadn’t heard anything, and then he silently opened the door a crack. Dash was facing away from the door and Otterman quietly crept into the room, glancing around as he did so.

Closing the door silently, he kept a wary eye on Dash and slowly approached the bed. After confirming that Dash was indeed asleep, he began looking for things he could swipe. Knowing anything he took could be easily replaced, and he knew he wouldn’t have to feel guilty over it. He found a coat lying on a chair and when he dug through the pockets, he found a gucci wallet. He gave another glance to Dash and then opened it to see what was inside. There were several currencies from around the world inside and he grabbed it all, hoping there were at least a few hundred dollars worth. Pocketing the cash, he put the wallet back, and then turned his attention to the six dufflebags laying at the ends of the beds.

Otterman tip-toed over and knelt next to one of the bags and then unzipped it. Dash instantly shifted at the quiet noise and Otterman froze, realizing Dash was an extremely light sleeper. He carefully didn’t move for several long seconds, and when Dash’s breathing evened out again, he began digging through the bag. He wrinkled his nose when he realized it was Neal’s bag, and just to spite, he took his ipod.

He unzipped another bag incredibly slowly and this time didn’t make any noise. The next couple bags didn’t hold anything of value, but when he found Dash’s bag, he hit the motherload. Dash had extremely expensive tastes and Otterman knew pretty much anything in the bag could be pawned for a hefty amount. Feeling a little bad about only stealing from Dash, he stole a watch, some cufflinks and then a really fancy-looking gold-coloured 3DS. Little things like this would probably take a while to be noticed missing.

Otterman started to creep towards the next bag when he suddenly heard a key being inserted into the door. Dash immediately shifted at the sound and Otterman quickly rolled under the bed just as the door opened.

He saw three pairs of legs enter the room, and he held his breath, hoping they hadn’t seen him.

“Heya, Dash,” one of the men greeted, “How are you feeling now?”

“Fine,” Dash growled out, obviously quite grumpy.

“Do you need me to help you get up?” the man asked. 

There was a long pause.

“...yes,” Dash replied, not sounding like he wanted to admit it.

“Okay, I’ll help you. Just a sec.”

Otterman had no idea which twin was speaking, but a moment later, he saw two massive legs stand directly in front of his face. A moment later, they walked off towards the bathroom.

“Where’s Crackle?” Dash demanded, from the direction the legs were headed.

“He’ll be back in just a few minutes. He got car sick,” the unknown twin replied.

Otterman noticed the twin was carrying Dash, and realized the other man was hurt a lot worse than he’d originally been told. Was something like this worth reporting to Roundabout? Feeling a little bad about stealing from a sick man, Otterman frowned, but knew it was necessary. They had no other choice.

A few minutes later, the twin returned and he felt the bed shift above him as Dash was laid back down.

“I can’t wait to be able to take a shower,” Dash commented, “Crackle said tomorrow the stitches should be healed enough.”

“Yeah, you’re starting to look a bit greasy,” the other twin commented.

“**Excuse me**?!” Dash snarled, his tone completely venomous. 

“...I’m putting on the tv,” the twin said, realizing that had **not** been the correct thing to say.

As everyone in the room settled themselves down on their beds to watch television, Otterman realized he was there for the long haul. No one was really saying much, and he wished they’d discuss something he could report. He had no idea what Roundabout was so concerned about, but assumed the man was worried about Team Crackle defecting.

After an hour of laying there, he heard one of the beds shift a bit as someone large moved.

“What’s taking Crackle so long?”

“Do you think he got sick again?”

He still couldn’t tell the twins voices apart, but when Paper Star spoke up, he knew who **she** was.

“I want to attack Team Red,” she complained, “Where is Crackle’s tablet?”

“We don’t know his password,” a twin stated. “If you guess wrong three times, it erases the data.”

“What are you talking about?” Dash demanded, “What happened during the meeting? The greaseball’s not with you, so it’s probably safe to assume it didn’t go well.”

Otterman eagerly listened as Dash was brought up to speed, mentally making notes of what he could report. When they were finally done explaining, Dash seemed to be thoughtful as he didn’t speak for a few minutes.

“Is it really a good idea to storm the Team Red base when there’s only four of you?”

“**Obviously** we would attack when they’re least expecting it, and kill them in their sleep or something,” Paper Star scoffed, “I could even do this myself if I knew where to go.”

“I just don’t understand where Crackle is…” a twin commented, “Should I go look for him?”

“He told you to wait for him here,” Paper Star responded impatiently, “He probably just thought of an errand he had to run.”

“...yeah, you’re probably right.”

The team went back to watching tv, and as hour after hour passed, Otterman could feel his back seizing up on him. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his pills and silently opened them. Popping one into his mouth, he dry swallowed it with a wince and then put the bottle away. He knew Moose Boy was probably incredibly worried by now, but there was no way he was giving himself away just yet. If he could escape this situation without getting beaten, then he was willing to lay there all night if he had to.

The hours continued to drag by and while Team Crackle were chatting amongst themselves, they weren’t saying anything important. At one point they had ordered pizza, and the smell was driving Otterman crazy. He hadn’t eaten since the day before, and he clutched his stomach trying to hide the fact it was growling. Luckily the tv was turned up loud enough to hide the sound, and so he remained laying there miserable and hungry.

“This is getting ridiculous,” one of the twins commented. “I don’t care if he gets mad; I’m going out to look for him.”

“I’ll go with you,” said the other twin, “Paper Star, you stay here with Dash. When he wakes up, try to get him to eat something.”

Paper Star let out a snort, clearly having no intention of doing that. Otterman watched as the twins left and suddenly he was alone in the room with just Paper Star and an unconscious Dash. Paper Star turned off the television and the room was suddenly completely silent. Placing his hands over his nose and mouth to mask the sound of his breathing, Otterman realized if she found him with no witnesses around, she would probably kill him. Paper Star had a reputation, and Otterman was suddenly regretting this decision very much.

He laid there for a long time, barely daring to breathe, and Paper Star made no movement or sound to indicate where she was or what she was doing. He finally heard the door open, and when the door closed suddenly there was the sound of hissing and yowling. He glanced over just in time to see a cat zoom under the bed where he was in order to hide. The second the cat realized there was a person there, it clawed him across the face and then darted away again. Clutching his face in agony, he forced himself to remain quiet, despite wanting to yell some very colourful vocabulary. The cat must have woken up Dash because he heard a startled yelp from the other man.

“What the hell is that?!” Dash demanded, his tone sounding somewhat panicked.

“That’s Steve,” he heard Crackle respond.

Only a second later there was a thud, and Otterman glanced over and saw Crackle had collapsed to the ground. For a brief moment, the other man’s gaze met his own, and then Crackle went into a violent seizure. Otterman watched with wide eyes as Crackle was immediately tended to, having no idea what was going on. Team Crackle argued about reporting the seizure to faculty, and when they decided to break protocol by taking Crackle to a hospital, Otterman knew this was probably exactly the sort of thing he was supposed to report. The twins and Paper Star left with Crackle, and he was now alone with Dash. Knowing the other man was still incredibly sick, he hoped Dash went back to sleep soon so he could make his escape.

After a time he heard Dash talking to someone and assumed it was probably the cat. To his surprise, he then heard a com conversation between Dash and Roundabout. Was Dash another informant on the inside, or was he just tattling? He listened closely to the conversation, but it didn’t seem like Roundabout was expecting the call, and so Dash likely wasn’t working for him. When the call ended, he heard Dash shift a bit, and then he heard him speaking to the cat again.

“Do you have to lay right beside my pillow?” he complained, “Go sleep on **Neal’s** pillow, I’m sure it’s already crawling with bacteria and grease. Your garbage stench won’t make much of a difference.”

The cat let out a croaky meow.

“Yeah, you’re right, you’d probably catch something,” Dash commented, “Go sleep anywhere else then, just not near **me**.”

There was another meow.

“No, go on!” Dash ordered, “I don’t like you, you one-eyed fleabag, and so stop edging closer! Go away!”

The cat made a weird meow in response to Dash’s anger.

“Shoo! Go! Get out of here!”

The cat clearly didn’t move because Dash let out a heavy sigh. “Are you really going to make me touch you?” he demanded irritably.

Dash then let out another sigh, and a second later Otterman saw the cat land on the floor as it was pushed off the bed. The cat narrowed its eye at Otterman and then hopped right back up onto the bed. Dash let out a groan.

“Aaaaaand now you’re on my back again, you disgusting thing...” 

Dash muttered a few unintelligible things under his breath, and Otterman heard him shift in bed. Otterman waited a few minutes and when there was no movement, he very, very cautiously peeked out from under the bed. He could see Dash’s hand hanging over the edge of the bed, and so he quietly scooted to the other side so he could crawl out without being seen. Remaining on his belly, he crawled out, and then looked up at the bed. He could see the cat glaring at him, but Dash seemed none the wiser. 

Not wanting to chance the door, he crawled for the bathroom, knowing there was a window. Once inside the bathroom, he closed the door as quietly as he could, and then went to get up. He then realized he couldn’t get off the floor. Cursing his back, he reached into his pocket for the pain pills and popped another one. He was worried Team Crackle could return at any moment, but he had no choice but to wait for the pain to become manageable. 

After what seemed like an eternity, he felt his back begin to numb, and so he slowly pushed up to his knees, grimacing at the pain. Pulling himself to his feet using the sink, he took a deep breath before he turned his gaze to the window. Slowly unlocking it and pulling it open, he winced at the creak it made. Giving a hard punch to the screen, it popped off, and then he awkwardly began pulling himself out through the window. Having no choice, he allowed himself to fall out of the window, and he let out a strangled cry as his back was slammed into the hard concrete. 

He laid there stunned for a long moment, and then suddenly Moose Boy was standing over him.

[[Sven!]] he cried out, his face twisted in worry, [[You were in there for so long, and I didn’t know what to do!]]

Otterman simply laid there as waves of pain coursed through his body.

[[Sven?]]

Otterman grit his teeth, and stared up at Moose Boy with desperate eyes. [[Help.]]

Moose Boy’s eyes widened, and he knelt down without hesitation, and very, **very** gently scooped Otterman into his arms.

[[Careful,]] Otterman begged.

[[I knew you weren’t ready for this,]] Moose Boy fretted as he carried him back towards their room. [[I **knew** it, but you wouldn’t listen to me!]]

Otterman said nothing, simply concentrating on pushing past the pain. When they entered their motel room, Moose Boy gently laid him down on the bed, and Otterman carefully turned on his side, the pressure on his back finally receding a bit. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his pills and Moose Boy frowned at him.

[[You’re only supposed to take one of those a day. How many have you had?]]

Otterman poured a pill out into his hand. [[One,]] he responded.

Moose Boy furrowed his brow. [[Didn’t you take a second pill earlier before we left?]]

Otterman popped the pill into his mouth and swallowed. [[No, that was a Tylenol.]] he lied.

Moose Boy stared at him for a few moments, almost certain he had seen Otterman take one earlier. He wasn’t **completely** sure however, and so he simply frowned and then took a seat next to him.

[[What happened?]] he asked.

[[I had to hide under a bed until I could sneak out,]] Otterman said, [[I managed to get a few things before I had to hide though.]]

Otterman reached into his pockets and pulled out the few things he’d stolen. He thumbed through the cash and saw that after converted, there was probably about two grand total. That would last a while, but not for long. He’d have to look up the value on the watch and the cufflinks, and he knew they could potentially be worth thousands as well.

[[Are we good now?]] Moose Boy asked hopefully. He still felt terrible for losing their money and he hoped they'd be fine from now on.

[[We did okay,]] Otterman responded, feeling a bit light-headed.

[[So, what now?]]

Otterman stared at the cash thoughtfully and then pulled out a twenty. [[I want pizza,]] he commented, holding it out towards the other man.

Moose Boy grinned at him widely. [[Sure! I’ll go get it now!]]

As Moose Boy left, Otterman closed his eyes, his whole body feeling completely numb. His mind felt oddly fuzzy, and he felt himself drift off to sleep, for once completely pain free.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Carmen took a sip of her coffee, and exchanged a glance with the rest of the team who were sitting in the living room, practically comatose. It was 3:30 in the morning, and Neal had been loudly telling story after story, keeping them all wide awake.

“Gonna kill him…” Tigress muttered, her eyes closed.

“Gonna kill him,” Ivy agreed, popping open an energy drink.

“I believe actions will have to be taken,” Shadowsan stated, looking absolutely furious.

“This can’t go on,” Carmen agreed, “I’m open to suggestions.”

“Gut him.”

“Gag him.”

“Put him in a closet.”

“Beat him.”

Carmen shook her head. “Guys, **no**, abusing him is not the answer. We need to find a way to resolve this peacefully.”

El Topo felt really guilty over allowing Neal to sleep and he averted his gaze from the others. “Neal’s not a bad guy,” he said hesitantly, “He is with V.I.L.E, but he’s not a bad person.”

“Oh right,” Ivy growled, “Because him keeping us awake is clearly the actions of a saint.”

El Topo shook his head. “He could have escaped if he was willing to hurt one of us,” he pointed out, “He could have at any time wrapped his chain around my throat and then demanded to be released.”

Le Chèvre bristled at the thought.

“You would have let him go,” El Topo stated, feeling absolutely sure of himself.

Carmen looked around at the faces of her team and knew this was the truth. She would have released Neal **immediately** if the life of her friends were at stake.

“What’s your point?” Tigress demanded.

“Neal is trying to wear you down in a different way, a **peaceful** way,” El Topo responded. “We can’t respond with violence or it will make things escalate.”

Shadowsan considered this and then nodded his agreement. “Neal is a talented operative and so he **could** have escaped if he was willing to hurt one of you. I do not believe he feels like his life is in danger, and so he is being pretty docile. If we make him feel threatened however, this could change in an instant.”

“Then what do you suggest?” Le Chèvre said impatiently. “This can’t go on!”

Ivy then smiled. “I have an idea,” she said, “This works against my brother, and so I bet it will work against the eel as well…”

Ivy now had everyone’s undivided attention.

“I’m listening,” Carmen said.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Player was laying in bed watching on his phone as Neal told another story. He was the only member of Team Red who didn’t mind the stories and was completely fascinated. Neal was re-telling some of the missions he’d been on over the years, and the sound effects he came up with were both amusing and impressive at the same time.

“He stood over me with an imperious sneer on his face and placed the barrel of the gun against my head. _ CA-LICK _ as the the gun was cocked. I stared up at him with wide eyes, knowing my life was about to end. _ THUD THUD THUD _ My heart sounded like thunder in my ears, and I looked into his eyes, seeing nothing but a cold hatred in his gaze. I had stolen the pride of his collection and now it lay shattered at our feet in a million pieces. I didn’t dare move a muscle, the icy metal of the gun pressed tightly to my temple. I felt a cold sweat start to form on my face as his finger began inching towards the trigger. He was going to kill me, and there was nothing I could do about it. _ THUD THUD THUD _ went my heart, the sound so loud now that it almost seemed to deafen me.

He didn’t say a word, not caring who I was or who had sent me. I had destroyed the one thing he valued most, and he would make me pay in blood. I could see the exact moment he began to press the trigger. There was a tightening around his eyes, and his whole body tensed. It was then that the door to the study opened.

_ CREEEEEK _

We both turned to stare at the open door, and the man’s young son stood there, the commotion having woken him up. The boy rubbed at his eyes tiredly, dressed in little footie pajamas, and for just a moment, the man’s finger left the trigger.

‘Daddy?’ the boy questioned.

I threw myself to the side and slammed my hand upwards, and with a _ CRACK _ I snapped the man’s wrist as I knocked the gun from his hand. I now had the gun, and the man clutched at his hand with gritted teeth, falling to his knees in pain. I stood to my feet and placed the gun against his head, the man freezing as he realized what had happened. I saw his eyes widen, and then his gaze flickered over to his son. A raw fear entered his eyes, and I could see the pleading look, the man afraid for his son.

‘Daddy?’ the boy repeated, his voice confused, ‘What are you doing?’

I stared at the boy, and then I stared at the man, knowing that V.I.L.E protocol dictated I kill them both. They had seen my face and witnesses were never allowed.

‘Please...not in front of him,’ the man whispered, ‘Don’t make him watch this. **Please**.’

I stared down at him, and knew what I had to do. He could see my sudden resolve, because he closed his eyes in anticipation of the shot. 

_ WHACK _

I slammed the pistol into the side of his head hard, and he collapsed to the floor unconscious. I tossed the gun aside, and the boy stared at me with wide eyes.

‘Daddy?!’

I approached the boy and knelt down in front of him, offering him a smile.

‘Daddy went to sleep, love. It’s very late, and you should be in bed.’

The boy glanced over at his father skeptically. ‘You...you hit him.’

‘Naw, we were just playing. He’s okay.’

The boy bit his lower lip and I knew he didn’t believe me.

‘I know you’re lying,’ he told me, ‘But...he’s a dick, so it’s okay.’

This took me by surprise, and I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped me. ‘What’s your name, sweetheart?’ I asked

This little kid, no older than seven, stared at me like I was an absolute idiot. He didn’t even look scared of me at all, his big brown eyes full of distrust.

‘I’m Michael, but most people just call me Mj,’ he replied, glancing over my shoulder at his father. 

“Hello, Mj, my name is Neal,” I replied, hoping to ease his worry.

Mj then frowned at me thoughtfully. ‘Are you a thief?’ he demanded. “My daddy kills thieves. One time he blew one’s brains out in the kitchen.”

I was honestly quite disturbed by this, but knew it wasn’t the kid’s fault his father was a psycho.

‘Come on, Mj, let’s get you back to bed, love,’ I told him in amusement, picking the boy up, ‘Your daddy will be just fine in the morning.’”

Player was listening with rapt attention, loving the story so far. “And then what happened?” he asked eagerly.

“I then put the boy back to bed and left the mansion. I may have failed my first solo mission, but at least I didn’t die.”

“What did V.I.L.E do?” Player asked. “They must have been pretty mad.”

“To my surprise, the break-in and assault was never even reported to the police. V.I.L.E never found out I had been seen.”

“Who were the people you tried to rob?”

Neal gave a shrug. “Just some rich assholes. Want to hear about the time I was sent to steal a dinosaur egg?”

Player adjusted himself more comfortably in bed. “Definitely!”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Neal looked up as he heard the basement door open. He had finished his last story about an hour before, and knew he had likely kept Team Red awake all night again. He had tossed his contacts out the night before, and so his vision was blurry, and he had to squint to see who it was approaching. He then gave Carmen a cheeky grin as she descended the stairs, but her expression was annoyed and she didn’t say anything. She set a tray of breakfast beside him and Neal frowned at the sight of it. The whole breakfast looked disgustingly healthy and he wrinkled his nose at it.

“Uh...what’s this?” he asked, poking at a pile of cooked spinach.

Carmen didn’t answer him, and instead turned and headed back to the stairs without a word.

“Black Sheep?” Neal called after her in confusion.

Carmen kept walking and he frowned at her, not used to being ignored.

“Carmen?” he tried.

She didn’t so much as glance at him, and a moment later, she was gone. Neal furrowed his brow, realizing he must have **really** made her mad for her to act like this. Pulling the tray over, he saw there wasn’t one single thing on that tray that he would willingly eat. There was cooked spinach, roasted vegetables, and egg whites with a pile of Lima beans.

“Ugh,” he commented, “Dash food.”

Even the glass of orange juice had been replaced with some sort of green smoothie. Picking up the glass, he gave it a sniff and could smell ginger, spinach and lime. He set the glass back down and flopped over onto the mattress, having no intention of eating any of that. He expected someone to come down to collect the tray, and he was planning on complaining about the food, but no one came. He tried calling for someone, but he was ignored. He tried being as loud as he could, but still no one came to check on him. 

Giving up, he napped for a couple hours, but hunger soon woke him up. Once again he tried calling for Team Red, but they ignored him. He stared at the breakfast tray, but was feeling stubborn, and refused to even touch it. After two hours of glaring at the breakfast tray, his stomach began to growl uncomfortably. 

Neal gave a poke to the food, and scowled at it. There was no way he was eating any of that. He’d rather starve. By the time lunchtime finally rolled around, he was absolutely ravenous, and feeling rather grumpy that no one had spoken to him all morning. When he finally heard footsteps on the stairs, he perked up and watched as Tigress approached him with a tray of lunch. He gave her a beaming smile, glad to finally have a bit of company.

“Hi Sheena!” he greeted.

She didn’t answer as she knelt down to set down the tray.

“Um, what was with breakfast?” Neal demanded, “Team Red on a health kick or something?”

Tigress said nothing and simply set down the lunch tray, and then picked up his untouched breakfast tray. When she turned to leave without so much as glancing at him, Neal’s smile dropped away.

“Sheena?” he questioned, “What’s going on?”

She said nothing, and then started up the stairs. 

“Sheena?”

Once she was gone, Neal furrowed his brow. Okay, this was getting weird. Were they giving him the silent treatment or something? Turning his attention to his lunchtray, he stared down at the salad in disgust. There was another green smoothie, and a side of sliced avocado. Feeling petulant, he shoved the tray away and flopped backwards onto his mattress. He was so unbelievably bored that he felt like he was going crazy.

“Hey, guys?!” Neal bellowed up towards the ceiling, “Can someone come down here for a sec?”

Neal paused and listened, but no one came down or responded.

“What’s going on?” he demanded, “Are you guys ignoring me?”

“Hey, Tiny Tim, are you listening?” he asked hopefully.

There was no response.

“Aw, even **you’re** refusing to talk to me?” he asked in disappointment, “After we had such a fun storytime last night?”

“Sorry, Neal,” came a whisper from the nearby speaker. “You’re being punished and I’ve been ordered not to talk to you. I have to go radio-silent for now. Sorry.”

“I really **am** getting the silent treatment?!” Neal exclaimed.

Player didn’t answer.

“Oh, come on, this is ridiculous!” Neal protested. 

Neal let out a groan and rolled over on the mattress, holding his growling stomach with a scowl. For once in his life he wished he didn’t have such a fast metabolism. He wasn’t used to missing meals, and was already miserable. They were feeding him garbage food on purpose, but he wouldn’t give in. He refused. He hadn’t willingly eaten vegetables in his entire life.

He napped off and on for a while, but his hunger made it difficult to sleep, and he found himself staring at the lunch tray more and more often. Finally, he pulled the tray over and stared down at it, looking for anything at all that was edible. He poked at the salad, and then discovered there were almonds in it. Picking out the almonds, he set them aside and then lifted up the lettuce, but there was nothing else that interested him. Letting out a deep sigh, he begrudgingly picked out the cherry tomatoes, and then popped an almond into his mouth.

When the small handful of nuts were gone, he grimaced as he bit one of the tomatoes. In his opinion, the only thing tomatoes were good for was tomato sauce and ketchup. Raw tomatoes tasted too much like a vegetable for his liking. Neal furrowed his brow. Were tomatoes vegetables? He wasn’t actually certain, but either way, he didn’t really like them. A dozen almonds and four cherry tomatoes weren’t exactly a very filling lunch, but Neal was stubborn and refused to touch the rest.

Neal was unbelievably bored and just a bit lonely, and that coupled with being hungry was too much. He began yelling angrily up at the ceiling, telling Team Red exactly what he thought of them, but they still ignored him. He yanked at the chain around his ankle, desperate to just have some sort of mental stimulation. He felt like he was going crazy. The basement was completely silent, and it was honestly starting to get to him. Neal was a very social person, and always kept himself occupied doing **something**, but there was absolutely nothing he could do down in the basement.

He felt himself losing his temper, and he tossed the tray across the room, watching as it splattered against the wall with a satisfying crash. Glass was flung in all directions, and he stared at the mess, feeling just a little bit better. He glanced towards the staircase, and then visibly deflated when no one came.

“Look, I’m **sorry**, okay!” he yelled up to the ceiling, “I’ll let you guys sleep tonight, I promise! Can someone just come down and talk to me? Just for a minute?”

Neal waited hopefully, but he was met with the sound of silence.

“I’m sorry!” he called again.

When no one came, Neal flopped back onto the mattress, hoping Crackle would rescue him fast. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. After a while he heard the basement door open, and he hurriedly sat up as the person began descending. He smiled at the sight of El Topo and he gave him a friendly wave.

“Hi, Antonio!” he greeted.

Neal didn’t miss the quick glance El Topo gave him, and knew he might be able to get him to talk.

“Everything okay up there?” he asked. “Everyone has been pretty quiet today…”

El Topo set down a suppertray and then approached with a roll of paper towels to clean up the mess from the lunch tray. Neal glanced at the stir fried vegetables on the plate, and let out a groan.

“You guys are going to starve me,” he whined, “I don’t eat...any of that stuff. Vegetables and I have a complicated relationship.”

El Topo said nothing, and Neal frowned.

“Antonio, I’m sorry.”

El Topo stopped cleaning, but didn’t turn around to face him.

“I’m sorry,” Neal repeated, “You were right and I shouldn’t have kept pushing you guys. I’ll stay quiet, I promise. Just please stop ignoring me.”

El Topo continued cleaning up the mess, and Neal edged over, the chain not quite reaching far enough.

“Antonio, come on,” Neal pleaded, “Just look at me.”

El Topo tensed up, and scrubbed harder at the mess.

“Antonio, please?”

El Topo suddenly seized the tray and then fled upstairs, and Neal watched him go in disappointment. Neal crawled his way back to the mattress and laid down, not even bothering to look at the supper tray. How long was this going to last? Days? Weeks? How long was he going to be here for? Neal laid there simply staring at the staircase silently, and after a while someone came down to collect his tray. He didn’t even bother to look to see who it was and just continued lying there silently. The person left again, and once again he was surrounded by silence.

Neal laid there in the same position, simply wishing he could fall asleep to escape the boredom. After a while, he heard the sounds of yelling coming from upstairs, and the sounds of breaking glass. What in the world was going on up there? The yells he heard only seemed to be half of a conversation, and he couldn’t tell who else was involved in the argument. Only a minute later, he heard the basement door bang open, and he heard furious footsteps stomp their way down the stairs. Neal looked up and then blinked in surprise.

“Ohhhh, now it makes sense,” he commented.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

As Mime Bomb and Zack exited the plane, they saw Ivy and Tigress waiting for them next to the car. Ivy ran for Zack and threw her arms around him in a bone-crushing hug.

“Missed me, Ivy?” Zack joked, returning the hug.

Ivy immediately punched him hard in the shoulder. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you go!” she cried out, “I let you out of my sight for two seconds and you almost get kidnapped!”

“Look, we’re okay, alright?” Zack said, waving an arm at himself. “We’ll explain everything once we’re home. Mime Bomb has had a tough couple days”

Ivy stared at Mime Bomb who was still barefoot and in his pajamas, and she yanked him into a hug, giving him a sad look. “I’m sorry your reunion with your sister got ruined,” she told him.

“Player got in contact with Alys to let her know we got away safely, and he’s going to work out some way for us to contact her,” Zack explained.

Ivy released Mime Bomb who was eyeing Tigress warily, remembering her threat. He slowly began edging towards the car, keeping Zack in front of him as he did as. Tigress rolled her eyes, knowing exactly what he was thinking.

“Relax, dork, I’m not going to hurt you. I think you’ve been through enough.”

Mime Bomb relaxed, and offered her a hesitant smile. She rolled her eyes again, and then got in the car without another word. Ivy threw her arms around both of her brothers and grinned at them.

“You guys missed out on a lot! Wait until we fill you in on everything!”

On the ride back to the base Ivy told them all about her newest gadget she’d been working on, and she was incredibly proud of it. It was a piece that attached onto Carmen’s grappling gun that would shoot out another line that would work as a secondary anchor if the line had to support a lot of weight. It hadn’t been fully tested yet, but Ivy was certain it would work.

When they arrived back at the base, everyone was waiting for them in the living room. Carmen gave them both a wide smile, and Mime Bomb raised a hand to his face, not liking the fact he’d been without his makeup for over a day now. Chase got to his feet and approached Mime Bomb, and before anyone could stop him, he grabbed him by the front of the shirt and shoved him hard against the wall.

“Your name is Volkov.” Chase stated, his eyes narrowed.

“Chase!” Julia protested, pulling on his arm uselessly. “Let him go!”

Mime Bomb stared at him with wide eyes, and Chase stared the boy in the face, trying to see signs of guilt. All he saw was uncertainty and a little bit of fear, and so he reluctantly released him, just as he was pulled away by Shadowsan and El Topo.

“Chase!” Carmen scolded, her tone furious, “This is **not** how we’re going to talk to him! You do **not** lay hands on family!”

Chase’s expression twisted into a pained look and Carmen realized what she’d just said. She crossed the room and took his hand in hers.

“You’re part of our family, Chase, and so is Mime Bomb. We’ll all talk about this in a calm and rational manner, alright?”

Chase clenched his fists but gave a nod. Mime Bomb turned a wide-eyed look to Zack and who looked just as confused.

“I have no idea, man…” he said.

Carmen turned her attention to Zack and Mime Bomb. “How about if we start by filling you in on everything that’s happened? Come take a seat with us.”

Mime Bomb glanced down at himself and then turned a yearning gaze towards his bedroom, just wanting to get back into his mime costume. Carmen saw his troubled expression and she rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on,” she urged, “It won’t take long.”

Mime Bomb heaved a sigh, and then took a seat on the couch beside Le Chèvre. Zack took a seat on the other couch, they looked to Carmen in question. Carmen sat down, and then began explaining everything they missed while being away. She told them of the meetings with Crackle, about the capture of Neal and Dash, about Dash getting ill, about the visit from Dr. Vess, but she purposely left out the bit about Michael Finnegan Jr. escaping prison. When she was finally finished, Mime Bomb and Zack were staring at her in complete shock, unable to believe all of this had happened in just four days.

“Sooo, you’re saying Neal is down in our basement right now?” Zack asked, turning his gaze to the basement door.

Ivy gave a laugh. “Yeah, he’s being punished though. He was telling stories non-stop allll night and keeping us awake, and so we’re teaching him a lesson.”

Zack raised an eyebrow. “How?” he demanded.

“We’re giving him the complete silent treatment,” she replied smugly, “No one looks at him, no one speaks to him, and no one reacts to anything he does. Now he has to sit down there in complete silence with nothing to do and he has no one to blame but himself!”

Mime Bomb turned to stare at her with wide and horrified eyes, but she didn’t notice.

“We also stopped catering to his childish diet. We’ve been providing him with nothing but health food and the stubborn guy hasn’t eaten at all today! He’s literally starving himself! Maybe **this** will make him keep his damn mouth closed!”

Mime Bomb remembered when he was first brought to The Room when he was seven, and he had sung all day, every day, just wanting to fill in the silence with something. Being surrounded by so much nothing had been unbearable until he had distracted himself from it. **They** did not like that, and **they** had beaten him, and even tried starving him in an attempt to make him compliant. Mime Bomb remembered the burning hunger that had consumed him, but the starvation had been more bearable than the silence. Then **they** had stolen his voice...

It was the loneliness and the silence that had made his captivity so unbearable, and even thinking about it sent waves of terror through Mime Bomb as if he was reliving it. They were doing the same thing to Neal. His family was making someone suffer in the same way he had. Mime Bomb closed his eyes and began to shake, remembering the hopeless despair he had felt for **years**. He thought he had finally found a safe place, a place where he could begin to forget, but his new family were torturing Neal just for using his voice. They were stealing his voice...

Before Mime Bomb even realizing what he was doing, he had picked up the tv remote and drove it straight at the screen, shattering it. Everyone instantly went silent.

“Mime Bomb?!” Carmen asked in disbelief.

“What the **hell**?!” Tigress bellowed out, staring at the destroyed tv.

Mime Bomb was shaking visibly now, and Zack approached him, having no idea what was wrong. The second he was touched, Mime Bomb jerked away from him, and when he looked up at the room, his gaze was filled with a fury they had never seen before. He furiously kicked over a tv tray, and then began signing fast and angrily towards Zack. Zack stared at him blankly and then turned a helpless gaze to the rest of the room.

“I-I don’t understand…” he said hesitantly, “I don’t know what’s wrong!”

Player suddenly spoke up. “He’s saying ‘How **dare** you! I never expected **any** of you to be this cruel! You are going to let Neal out of the basement **now**!’”

“Wait, **what**?!” Tigress cried out in outrage.

“We’re not going to let Neal go, Mime Bomb,” Carmen answered, still incredibly confused. “We’re not being cruel to him. He’s safe down there and no one is hurting him.”

Mime Bomb turned rage-filled eyes on her, and Carmen was taken aback. Mime Bomb kicked over another tv tray, sending several glasses of soda crashing to the floor, glass and liquid spraying everywhere. 

“No, you are letting him go **now** !” Player translated, “You are **not** leaving him down there!”

Shadowsan was to his feet in an instant. “Stop this childish tantrum at **once**!” he ordered in a warning tone.

Mime Bomb grabbed a pillow off the couch and slammed it to the ground, frustrated and angry that he couldn’t make them understand. The Room flashed in his eyes, and he felt fear and anger consume him and he met Shadowsan’s eyes defiantly. 

“Pick up that cushion right **now**.” Shadowsan ordered. “You are stopping this childishness.”

While maintaining direct eye contact, Mime Bomb stomped on the pillow as hard as he could.

Shadowsan was instantly looming over him, and he grabbed Mime Bomb by the arm, having every intention of forcing the boy to sit down until he calmed down. Mime Bomb’s reaction however, was to lash out with an elbow, and he caught Shadowsan in the gut, surprising him into letting go.

Mime Bomb shoved past Carmen and to their surprise, he opened the basement door and started down.

“What the hell was **that**!?” Tigress cried out.

“Something set him off…” Zack said hesitantly. “I’ve never seen him like this…”

“Player, put the base into lockdown for right now.” Carmen ordered, “Maybe once Mime Bomb brings Neal up, he’ll calm down and finally tell us what’s going on.”

“The boy is unstable,” Chase stated, crossing his arms.

“He’s been through a terrible ordeal,” Carmen responded.

“Are we really going to allow him to release Neal?” Le Chèvre demanded. 

“Of course not, right Carm?” Ivy asked.

“No, but perhaps if Mime Bomb sees Neal is unharmed, it will calm him down. Let’s just allow him to do whatever he thinks he needs to, and then we’ll ask him about it.”

“Aw, the tv…” Zack said mournfully, “I **loved** that tv.”

Shadowsan turned angry eyes to the basement door, having every intention of giving Mime Bomb a thorough dressing down once he came back up. Rubbing at his stomach, he took a seat, and crossed his arms to wait.

Mime Bomb hurried down the stairs, and when he reached the bottom, he saw Neal lying on the ratty mattress with a chain around his ankle.

“Ohhhh, now it makes sense,” Neal commented, sitting up.

Neal stared at him, this being the first time he’d ever seen the mime without his makeup. He stared at the muddy pajamas and dirty bare feet and wondered what the boy had been through. Whatever it was, Mime Bomb looked absolutely furious.

Mime Bomb padded across the room and then knelt down beside him, and Neal realized the boy was reaching for the chain. 

“Hi, Mime Bomb,” Neal said, “Or do you go by something else without your makeup?”

Mime Bomb looked up and when he made eye contact, Neal didn’t realize how much he’d missed such a small action. Mime Bomb gently touched the bruises on Neal’s injured foot and he then turned questioning eyes to the villain.

“I can’t walk on it yet,” Neal told him, “I’ll be out of commission for a few days.”

Mime Bomb nodded and inspected the lock on the chain. As suspected, it was locked with a fingerprint reader. Having no idea if it would even work for him, he placed his thumb against it and to his surprise it popped open. Neal stared at him in surprise and then immediately reached down to rub at his ankle.

“What’s going on?” Neal asked, “Has Crackle come for me?”

Mime Bomb shook his head, and then held out his hands to help the taller man to his feet. Neal was incredibly confused but he still accepted the hands and then struggled to get up on his good leg. Mime Bomb pointed towards the stairs, and Neal nodded, just glad to get out of the basement. Hoping the thin little mime would be able to support him, Neal leaned on Mime Bomb and they began slowly and carefully making their way to the stairs.

“You okay, love?” Neal asked, “Am I too heavy?”

Mime Bomb shook his head and helped him up the first step. It was a slow and careful process, but when they made it to the top, Mime Bomb didn’t loosen his hold. They stepped into the living room and Neal was met with the sight of a destroyed living room and nine pairs of angry eyes staring at him.

“Er...hi,” Neal greeted, having a feeling he was not welcome up there.

“Sit him on the couch,” Carmen ordered.

Mime Bomb glared at her, and continued walking past, Neal going with him, feeling incredibly confused.

“Mime Bomb.” Shadowsan said, tone firm. “Sit Neal on the couch, and stop this nonsense.”

Nonsense. **Nonsense**. They honestly had no idea what they had done, and Mime Bomb clenched his hands angrily into the fabric of Neal’s shirt. Mime Bomb knew the base was in lockdown, but his destination wasn’t outside, and he kept walking, ignoring the others completely. He knew he was being followed as he walked down the hall, but he pretended he didn’t notice. When he reached his destination, he helped Neal sit down at the kitchen table, and then turned to cross the room. Neal simply stared at him in confusion, having no idea what was going on. A few seconds later, Mime Bomb held up a package of spaghetti, a loaf of bread, and a can of soup towards him.

“Are...are you asking me which one I want?” Neal asked in surprise.

Mime Bomb nodded.

Neal glanced over at their audience who seemed just as confused as him. “Erm...sandwich, I guess?” he replied.

Mime Bomb nodded and then opened the fridge to pull out ingredients. Neal watched him in mild amusement, unable to believe the mime was actually going to make him a sandwich.

“No veggies please, love,” he called over.

Mime Bomb put the lettuce and tomato back in the fridge. Zack approached and stood by Mime Bomb’s side, giving him a worried look. Mime Bomb washed his hands at the sink, and then turned towards Neal. He held up a single finger on one hand and then held up two fingers on the other hand.

Neal was absolutely starving and so he replied. “Two?”

Mime Bomb gave him another nod and then turned to begin assembling the sandwiches. A few moments later, he set a plate down in front of Neal and then opened the fridge once again. He grabbed a can of soda and then set it on the table beside the plate.

“Hey, that’s my Pepsi!” Ivy protested.

Mime Bomb shot her a baleful look and she went quiet, the expression one she’d never seen on his face before.

“Thanks, love,” Neal told Mime Bomb uncertainly, sensing the tension in the room.

Mime Bomb then turned away from Neal and signed something very emphatically towards the others.

Player quickly spoke up. “He says to let Neal go.”

Neal promptly choked on his bite of sandwich, not expecting this. He turned to stare at Team Red, having a feeling things were about to get interesting.

Carmen stepped forward and laid a hand on Mime Bomb’s arm. “You know we can’t just let him go. What’s all this about? Tell us what’s wrong.”

Mime Bomb stomped a foot in pure anger, and then signed again.

“I’m not going to let you abuse Neal,” Player said.

“We’re not abusing **anyone**,” Carmen assured him, “Neal’s fine. Look at him, he’s perfectly fine.”

To Neal’s complete surprise, Mime Bomb kicked over a chair, his expression furious.

“**No** .” Player translated. “He was **not** fine. You have no idea what it’s like being in a place like that, do you?”

“Neal is fine.” Shadowsan said, stepping forward. “Break one more thing, Mime Bomb, and we’re going to have a problem.”

Mime Bomb kicked another chair over, and before he even had time to react, Shadowsan had grabbed him, and pinned his arms to his side, pulling him away from anything he could break. To everyone’s surprise, Mime Bomb began to kick and struggle with all his might, and after a moment of fighting to hold onto him, Shadwsan pinned the boy to the kitchen floor and placed a knee on his back.

“Enough!” Shadowsan scolded. “Stop this childish temper tantrum **right** now, and speak to us in a calm and civilized manner or else you’re going to have to be restrained!”

Mime Bomb struggled even harder, and silent tears began making their way down his face, and Zack was there in an instant.

“You’re scaring him!” he bellowed angrily. “Let him go **now**!”

No one had ever heard Zack so angry and Shadowsan hesitantly let go of Mime Bomb. Zack pulled the other boy into his arms, and he could feel him trembling in both fear and anger.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but this is **not** the right way of handling it!” Zack scolded. “You know Mime Bomb, and you know something has to be wrong!”

The others exchanged a look, and Neal was simply watching like he was observing some sort of show.

“Hey, buddy,” Zack said softly, “Let’s go talk for a minute, okay? Neal’s just going to sit here eating supper, and he’ll be safe, alright? No one’s going to hurt him, and no one is going to make him move.”

Mime Bomb glanced up at Neal and then looked to Carmen who gave him a nod. “I promise no one will touch Neal,” she said, “I give you my word.”

Mime Bomb seemed to sag in defeat and he gave a nod. Zack helped him to his feet, and Mime Bomb couldn’t even bear to look at anyone as he allowed himself to be led away. Once they were gone, Neal raised a brow at Team Red.

“Well, **that** was interesting,” he commented.

“Not a word, Neal,” Shadowsan warned, shooting him a ‘look’.

Neal rolled his eyes and took another bite of his sandwich. 

“Player?” Carmen questioned.

“Just a sec, Red, I’m going to help translate for Zack.”

“Does this mean you guys are going to start speaking to me again?” Neal questioned.

Ivy frowned at him, but honestly after everything that had happened, she wasn’t even mad anymore.

“_ Si _,” El Topo said, taking a seat at the table across from him. “I didn’t like doing that. It felt mean.”

“So what’s the situation with Crackle?” Neal asked. “I’m starting to feel a little unwanted here…”

“Carmen met with him yesterday afternoon, but he hasn’t been answering his phone,” El Topo answered.

Neal furrowed his brow, knowing Crackle **always** answered his com unless it was an emergency. Had something happened? Was it something involving Dash? Did Dash take a turn for the worse? He had a feeling something was going on that he didn’t know about, but he knew Team Red likely wouldn’t know what it was. He ate in silence, and when he was finished, he leaned on the table with both elbows, aware of how everyone was staring at him.

“I’m not going anywhere, you know,” he pointed out, “I can’t exactly run away.”

Le Chèvre righted one of the toppled chairs and then took a seat beside El Topo. “You’re going back to the basement as soon as Mime Bomb calms down,” he pointed out. “We don’t want you up here, eel.”

“Well, then I might as well enjoy your bright and cheery personality while I can,” Neal responded with a grin.

Neal sat there for over an hour, feeling somewhat sleepy now that he was no longer hungry, and made casual conversation with El Topo while the rest of Team Red stood guard in the doorway. When Zack finally returned, he was looking completely pale.

“Zack?” Ivy questioned.

“Neal isn’t going back to the basement,” he stated, hands shaking as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Zack?” Carmen asked, resting a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong? What did Mime Bomb tell you?”

Zack squeezed his eyes closed. “Neal is **not** going back to that basement.” he repeated, his voice unusually firm.

Carmen was incredibly concerned. “Player?” she called out.

“Red, I think I need to take a breather.” Player responded. “I...I wasn’t expecting...any of this.”

He went silent, and Carmen stared at Zack with wide eyes. “What happened in there?!” she demanded.

“Put Neal in with Mime Bomb and I’ll tell you what he told me,” Zack stated. “He’s given me permission to tell you everything, but he does **not** want to talk about it, not tonight anyway.”

Everyone exchanged worried looks, and then all gazes went to Carmen. The doors and windows were sealed, and there was no possible way for Neal to escape and so she gave a nod.

“I’ll help you, mi amigo,” El Topo said, standing up.

Neal really wanted to know what the big secret was but knew there was zero chance of him being allowed to listen in. Not wanting to waste the effort of arguing, he simply nodded, and allowed El Topo to help him to his feet. As they slowly made their way down the hallway towards the bedrooms, the rest of Team Red made their way towards the living room.

When they entered Mime Bomb’s room, they saw Mime Bomb was curled up in bed facing the wall, and seemingly trying to sleep. El Topo didn’t say anything and instead helped Neal over to Zack’s bed. As soon as Neal was seated, El Topo hurried out of the room, and Neal glanced over at Mime Bomb. He had a feeling the boy was wide awake, and he watched him for a few minutes in silence, before he laid back on the bed comfortably.

“Thank you, Mime Bomb,” Neal stated.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Zack sat head in hand until El Topo joined them a couple minutes later. Ivy sat by her brother’s side, worried about what could possibly be this bad.

“I’m going to leave out the really bad bits and just abridge it for you,” Zack informed the room, “If you make me tell everything, I think I might throw up.”

“Is it that bad?” Ivy asked in a whisper.

Zack’s haunted blue eyes met hers. “Worse, Ivy, it’s so much worse. You have no idea what he had to go through.”

“Take your time, Zack,” Carmen said gently, “What if you just start from the beginning?”

Zack closed his eyes and then gave a slow nod. “Alright,” he agreed, “You already know how Mime Bomb’s mother died in a car accident and so I’ll skip that part.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Zack took a deep breath and then began “After his mother died, his grandmother began abusing him, blaming him for the accident. Finally she decided she didn’t want him living in her house anymore. She told Mime Bomb he was being sent to live with his father, but this was a lie. Mime Bomb excitedly packed his bags, and when a black car showed up at their door, he went with the men without question.”

Zack paused and looked up. “He was taken to a man he didn’t know, and they took a vial of Mime Bomb’s blood. He didn’t know it at the time, but he now knows they were doing a dna test. The men were only gone a short while, and when they returned, the man had not been happy with the results. 

He told Mime Bomb he was just the bastard of his younger brother, and an embarrassment to the name of Volkov. He said Mime Bomb looked nothing like his brother, and that he now had **two** brothers that had embarrassed him in such a way. This was how Mime Bomb first met his uncle Maxim.”

Zack clenched his hands, and Ivy took one of his hands to offer him some silent support.

“Maxim took Mime Bomb to his lab in Russia, and placed him into the care of the doctors there. He was stripped, cleaned, given plain white pajamas and then taken to a small white room. The room was completely soundproofed, and the only contents of the room were a bed and a toilet. No matter how much he screamed or cried, no one ever came for him. He was fed three times a day, but the guards never spoke to him, and they ignored everything he did. The silence was unbearable, and so Mime Bomb used to sing to keep himself from going mad.”

Zack felt silent as a tear slid down his cheek, and he swiped at it with a grimace.

“Zack?” Ivy asked, wrapping an arm around him. “It’ll be okay.”

“No it won’t.” Zack replied. “He’ll **never** be alright. Those...those monsters made sure of that.”

“What happened?” Tigress asked, knowing it was going to be horrible.

“They used to do experiments on him…” Zack said hesitantly. “Hundreds and hundreds of needles in every part of his body, even in his eyes. Mime Bomb has no idea what they were doing, but every time they took him from the white room, it was for hours and hours of pain. The only thing that kept him going was his ability to sing. He would use his song to hide from the pain, and fill his room with sound for just a while.”

Zack turned mournful eyes to Carmen. “The doctors hated his singing and said it was hindering his progress. They began beating him, withholding food, and trying to bribe him into staying silent. Mime Bomb refused to be quiet, and so they finally got fed up and took him from his room. They put him to sleep and when he woke up, he discovered they had stolen his voice. He doesn’t know what they did to him exactly, but it was excruciating and he hasn’t been able to make a sound since.”

“Oh my god,” Tigress commented, her eyes wide in horror.

“After they took his voice, he experienced nothing except pain and silence for **years**. Sound became agonizing to him, and he had completely given up any hope of his misery ever ending. The only thing that kept him from losing his mind was his imagination. He would sit in his room and simply imagine all sorts of things, and he would fill his mind with all the sounds he had heard in his lifetime, imagining them to be real. He would imagine whole orchestras playing for him, and when he would concentrate, he would sometimes be able to forget where he was.”

Zack took another deep breath. “Mime Bomb didn’t know what they were doing to him, but he remembered hearing one of the doctors comment that he was showing great promise. He overheard them say he was going to be given the next series of injections and that they weren’t certain his body was big enough to handle it. As he was taken back to his room, he heard them arguing about whether to do it now or wait a few more years.

It was just after this that Mime Bomb remembers hearing gunfire in the hallway outside his door. A bullet had hit his door, and it dented the slot he was fed through creating a hole. Suddenly sound filled his room, and at first it was agony, but then he slowly began to get used to it again. He watched through the hole and he saw his guards dead in front of him.

Suddenly all the staff had changed in the lab, and no more experiments were done on him. He was fed and that was the extent of his interactions with these new people. One day he awoke as his door was opened, and an older boy in a wheelchair came in, holding a chart. He asked questions about who Mime Bomb was and about what was done to his throat. The boy had some sort of horrific injury that he was recovering from, and he had a lot of difficulty walking. He came back over and over to speak with Mime Bomb over the next few months, and finally the day came that everything changed.

There was smoke and screams that filled the outside hallway, and Mime Bomb had no idea what was going on. Flames were coming through the vents on the walls, the fire spreading from room to room, and the walls around him quickly became an inferno. Just as Mime Bomb’s room began getting too hot to stand, his door was suddenly opened. The older boy was there, standing and looking terrified. He threw a blanket around Mime Bomb and then ushered him out of the room. 

There was darkness, smoke and screams and Mime Bomb could see people burning to death in the rooms around him. He was led past gunfire, stepped over countless bodies, and the screams followed them the whole way through the building. The boy had a lot of trouble walking and Mime Bomb had to help him as they tried to find a safe way out. The boy led him outside, and this was the first time Mime Bomb had seen daylight in years. 

There was snow everywhere and it was so cold that it almost seemed to burn his skin, and the boy led him to a nearby truck covered in a tarp. Mime Bomb was lifted into the back of the truck, and then covered with blankets, before he was hidden by the tarp. Mime Bomb saw the boy speak with a man who then got in the truck, and that was the last time he saw the boy. The entire building collapsed as they were driving away, and the older boy was left standing in the road, watching them go.

The man driving was his uncle Dmitry, but Mime Bomb doesn’t remember much about him other than the fact he looked a lot like his father. Dmitry was incredibly kind to him, and they traveled together for two days before reaching their destination. Mime Bomb had to stay hidden in the bed of the truck, hidden by the tarp so no one would see him.

Mime Bomb said when they finally arrived in a small town, the truck finally stopped at a large warehouse. The tarp was then pulled off him to reveal his father standing there. Mime Bomb’s father had no idea where his son had been this whole time, and said he’d been searching for him for five years. He told him it wasn’t safe for them to remain together since there were people who wanted the Volkovs dead. He said he would find a safe place to hide Mime Bomb and then come back for him later.

Dmitry went his own way, and Mime Bomb never saw him again.

They spent a month traveling together through Europe, and when they arrived in London, Mime Bomb was left at the school for the deaf. He waited for years for his father to come back for him, but he never did. Mime Bomb has no idea if his father or either of his uncles are even still alive. He’s had no contact with any of them.”

Zack raised his hands to his head and simply sat there, and Ivy gave him a tight hug.

“It’s going to be okay, Zack,” she assured him, “We’re going to help Mime Bomb, I promise. We’ll figure this out.”

“Ivy, I left out the worst of the things. You have **no** idea what those sick and evil people did to him. When he found out what you were doing to Neal, it hit too close to home for him, and he couldn’t handle it. We need to find these people and make them pay. I’m not letting them take Mime Bomb again.”

“He’s safe here, and we’re not going to allow anyone to hurt him,” Carmen promised, “We’re going to find these people, and we’ll make sure they’re arrested for their crimes.”

Chase looked incredibly worried. “If the original Volkov people were killed in the fire, then who killed Yu Yan and took my daughter?”

“Um, guys…” Player hesitantly said, “I really hate to interrupt but there’s something that I just found that you need to see.”

Carmen frowned but knew it must be something important for him to butt in like this. “What is it, Player?” she asked.

“Since the tv is broken, I’m going to send this to all of your coms,” he replied, “You’ll understand the second you see this.”

Everyone pulled out their coms and stared at the screen as a video began playing. A shaky camera focused on someone and they immediately saw it was Michael Finnegan Jr. The very first thing Carmen noticed was a very recognizable tower in the background of the video. 

“Yo, loyal viewers!” Michael said into the camera with a wide and cocky grin. “I know it’s been a while since my last post, but I was in jail for like a month. Stole some shit, killed a bunch of people, you know, the usual. I was probably going to get life in prison.”

He crossed his arms against his chest and tilted his head, clearly trying to look tough. “I got mad cred for getting in a few fights in that shithole, and I kicked **all** their asses because no one messes with a Finnegan! I even got a new prison tatt and it’s pretty awesome. Some guy used a broken piece of glass to do it.”

Michael held his hands towards the camera with a grin, proudly displaying the words ‘YOUR DEAD’ written across his knuckles.

“Uhh...” the cameraman said a bit hesitantly. “Mikey, I think that’s spelt wrong…”

“What?!” Michael said in alarm, glancing at his hands. “No, it’s not!”

“Yeah man, I think there’s an ‘e’ in it.”

“Shut up, Dustin, it’s **fine**. You can spell it both ways.” Michael snapped, turning his attention back to the camera.

“How am I standing here a free man, you wonder? Cause your man Mj is awesome, **that’s** why! I escaped and killed like five people while I was at it! This boy right here, using his genius smarts, managed to spring himself! This is why you assholes all follow me, because you know the whole world is soon going to know my name!”

Michael dissolved into laughter, and he pulled out a handgun and brandished it towards the camera.

“My boss gave me this, and I’m gonna fuck up anyone who crosses me!” he vowed, cocking the gun. “I dare the police to even **try** to capture me! I’m gonna watch the whole world burn!”

Michael gave the finger to the camera and then stuck out his tongue, displaying a piercing. He waved the gun around wildly as he struck his best gangsta pose.

“I’m going to put a bullet into each and every-”

The gun suddenly went off and Michael let out a screech as the bullet hit him in the arm. He let out a stream of profanity as he clutched his arm in agony, practically doubling over from the pain.

“Uh...Mikey, should I stop recording?”

“Shut up, Dustin!” Michael screamed, holding his heavily bleeding arm.

After another minute of screaming profanity, Michael finally got himself under control enough to address the camera. He was pale and shaking, but obviously trying very hard to seem composed.

“Fuck it, I’m gonna post this anyway,” he announced.

“Should...should we call you an ambulance?”

“Shut up, Dustin!” Michael snarled. “I’m fine!”

Michael then turned to the camera and pointed to his arm that was gushing blood.

“Yeah, you guys see this?** That’s** how tough I am!” Michael bragged, “I just shot myself to show you how much of a man I am! I barely even felt it!”

There was suddenly the sound of sirens in the background.

“Mikey, I think the cops are coming…”

“Shit!” Michael cried out in a panic. “Cut the video, we need to get out of here!”

That’s where the video ended and Carmen glanced around at the rest of her team. 

“...Well, we now know where Michael Jr. is… That building in the background of the video is the Bayterek Tower located in Nur-Sultan, Kazakhstan.”

“Wait, Michael Jr. escaped?!” Zack demanded, “And you’re just mentioning this now?!”

“We didn’t think it would be a good idea for Mime Bomb to find out his torturer was roaming about…” Carmen said hesitantly.

Zack didn’t like the idea of hiding things from Mime Bomb, but considering his mental state at the moment, he also didn’t think it was a good idea to bring it up.

“I’m telling him once he’s calmed down,” Zack stated, “I’m not going to betray his trust by hiding something this important from him.”

Carmen gave him a nod. “Player? Any idea where Michael Jr. is hiding?”

“Yeah, Red, the video was uploaded from a warehouse on the edge of town. When I looked into it, it looks like V.I.L.E owns the building. I’m willing to bet that V.I.L.E were the ones to break him out, but for what purpose, I have no idea. The video was uploaded ten minutes ago and so you might be able to catch him before V.I.L.E moves him, if you leave immediately.”

“Get him, Carm,” Zack requested, “**Please** get him so I can tell Mime Bomb he doesn’t have anything to worry about.”

“We can’t leave on a mission right now. Mime Bomb needs us, we have to worry about Neal, and we have to worry about Team Crackle.”

“You go, and I’ll stay with Mime Bomb,” Zack told her.

“I’ll stay too,” Ivy stated, “I’m never letting Zack out of my sight again.”

El Topo and Le Chèvre exchanged a look between themselves, knowing Le Chèvre’s breathing was too bad to chance a plane trip. If he took an asthma attack in the air, there would be nothing they could do to help him.

“We will stay and keep an eye on Neal and the base,” El Topo said.

“I’ll stay to keep an eye on all of these morons,” Tigress stated, “You guys have some fun and kick Michael Jr.’s ass.”

“Player, can you arrange the plane to take us to Kazakhstan as soon as possible?”

“Already on it, Red. Can you be to the airport in an hour?”

Carmen felt really bad about leaving Mime Bomb after everything they’d just found out, but knew she didn’t have a choice if she wanted any hope of bringing in Michael Jr. 

“Yes, Player, book the plane, we’re on our way.”

Zack was worried about Mime Bomb, and after he’d bid the others goodbye, he headed for the bedroom, hoping the other boy was doing alright. It was getting late, and he hoped Mime Bomb had managed to fall asleep. Zack felt certain the other boy would feel better in the morning.

When he entered the bedroom, Zack saw Neal was sound asleep, limbs sprawled out in every direction. Tip-toeing across the dark bedroom, Zack peered down at Mime Bomb and saw the other boy was simply staring at the wall, expression completely blank. Zack frowned, wondering if a hug would help or hurt in this situation.

“Budge over,” Zack ordered, “Neal’s asleep, and I don’t really want to share a bed with the greasy wonder.”

Without looking at him, Mime Bomb edged over to make room, and Zack climbed into the bed, feeling even more worried.

“I told them everything,” Zack said softly, “You won’t have to talk about it to anyone if you don’t want to. They understand now.”

Mime Bomb still didn’t move.

“Are you going to be alright?”

Zack was relieved when he received a nod.

“Do you need a hug?”

Mime Bomb shook his head.

“Carmen and a few of the others had to leave on an emergency mission, but they should be back in a few days. We can just stay and relax for a while.”

He received another nod.

“Let’s get some sleep, and we can figure out everything else tomorrow.”

Zack let out a yawn, rolled over and was asleep within minutes. Neal cracked open an eye. Team Red was splitting up for a mission...this could be something Team Crackle could use to their advantage...

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Dr. Vess entered the room carrying his medical bag, and he glared down at the man sleeping in the bed nearby. Approaching, he set his bag down on the bed and then pulled the blanket off Siren. Rolling him onto his back, Vess knelt down beside him and looked him over with a frown. It was obvious Siren had skipped a few too many meals, the man painfully thin, and Vess knew he’d have to be a bit more diligent in making sure Siren actually ate throughout the day.

Vess checked Siren’s eyes, observing the bi-colour irises with indifference. Siren had Sectoral Heterochromia and when Vess had first met him, he’d been fascinated to find out that Siren’s brothers had the same defect. Although genetically very similar, Siren had a genius level intellect, whereas his brothers had the combined IQ of a turnip. Genetics had always been an interesting subject to him, and even now Vess enjoyed studying such things in his spare time.

Siren was still deeply asleep from the powerful sedative, and Vess planned on keeping it that way for at least a couple days. Opening his bag, he removed a few supplies and pulled one of Siren’s arms towards himself. Disinfecting a patch of skin, Vess inserted an IV and then taped it into place. Pulling over the nearby IV stand, he hooked up a couple bags of saline with a powerful sedative, and then adjusted the flow into the IV.

A sudden knock at the door startled him, and Vess looked up with a frown. “Come in,” he called out.

The door opened and a guard entered, carrying a tablet.

“What do you want?” Vess demanded irritably, “I’m busy right now.”

“Sorry to interrupt, Dr. Vess, but Dr. Bellum wishes to speak to you.”

Vess looked up as the guard turned the tablet around revealing Dr. Bellum’s face on the screen. “Morning, Numa,” she greeted, her expression looking suspiciously smug. 

Vess was immediately wary. “...morning.” he responded. 

“Having problems with our resident song-bird?” she questioned, her gaze falling on Siren.

Vess rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh. “There was another ‘incident’ yesterday afternoon,” he explained, “He killed another guard.”

Dr. Bellum hummed thoughtfully. “Well, at least it wasn’t anybody important,” she commented.

Vess knew she wasn’t just calling for idle chitchat, and was suspicious. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?” he questioned, “Was there something I could help you with?”

Bellum smirked in a way he didn’t like, and she paused for a second before answering. “I just wanted to see your reaction to the video I’m about to send you.”

Vess’ brow furrowed, and then he heard his com ding as he received a message.

“Turn your volume on and click on that link,” Bellum ordered.

Vess pulled his com out of his pocket and then turned his volume up high and hesitantly clicked on the link. The second he saw Michael Jr., his eyes widened when he saw the boy had given away his secret location.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Vess exclaimed angrily.

As the video went on, Vess cringed at the way Michael Jr was bragging about his misspelled tattoo and his jailbreak. The idiot was confessing to crimes on a **public** platform.

“I’m going to kill him,” Vess muttered, unable to take his eyes off the video.

When the gun went off, Vess’ eyes widened in shock, and he stared at all the blood and at the screaming boy with an angry frown. He then cringed even harder, knowing how much of a moron Michael Jr. truly was. He had **hired** that moron...

By the time the video was over, Vess was facepalming, feeling a migraine coming on.

Dr. Bellum was laughing and laughing, and Vess simply let out a groan, knowing he’d have to go make sure that idiot didn’t bleed to death.

“You chose him, Numa,” Bellum commented, clearly loving every moment of this.

Vess simply let out a groan.

“That idiot was denied entry into V.I.L.E academy, but yet YOU chose him anyway!”

Vess pinched the bridge of his nose. “...he’s proven to be useful over the years...occasionally.”

Dr. Bellum let out a snort of amusement. “I bet,” she responded, “Well, he’s **your** problem, and so **you** have to deal with this. The video has been posted for ten hours and so we have to assume Carmen Sandiego has already seen it. You need to keep those under you controlled, otherwise this is going to cause problems for V.I.L.E.”

Vess let out a deep and aggravated sigh. “It will be dealt with,” he assured her.

“Good. I’ve taken the liberty of booking a plane for you. Be to the airport within an hour.”

Vess gave her a nod, and she gave one more snicker before the call ended. After the guard had left, Vess let out a loud and aggravated groan. Why did everybody in his life insist on making things difficult for him? He glared down at Siren, knowing he was going to have to get one of the other doctors to monitor him while he was gone. 

Letting out a few colourful curses in arabic, Vess collected his medical bag and then headed for the door. Michael Jr. was about to face his full fury.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**Note: Sorry that this chapter is 3 days late, but this is the longest chapter of Broken yet at 21, 000 words! This fic is now over 200,000 words and this is so exciting! It will probably get to 300,000 by the time it's done because there's still a lot of story left to go. **

**I'm going to do my best to get chapter 19 out by the 29th at the absolute latest. I've been working on a lot of side-fics at the same time as this one, and so that's why updates are a little slower than normal. Please forgive the delay! **

**All credit for these gorgeous pics goes to these wonderful artists!**

**Sugarandmemories ** **is responsible for the Roundabout pic**

**Violetfic** **is responsible for the pic of Dr. Vess and the pic of Michael Jr. (Dr. Vesalius is owned by Violetfic , and I am using him with her permission.)**

**Coulrosaurus** **is responsible for the Mime Bomb pic.**

**If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!**

**Credit for the names of Otterman and Moose Boy go to ** **Animedemon01**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**

**Please don't forget to let me know what you think!**


	19. Kazakhstan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone!
> 
> Here's a short chapter for you guys... What? Why am I sensing some skepticism? You don't believe me? Okay, fiiiiine, yes I once again went a little crazy on this chapter and it's 20,000 words long. lmao When I finally DO post a regular length chapter, everyone is going to think it's too short. hahaha
> 
> An enormous thank you to the very awesome Violetfic for being my beta and offering VERY good suggestions to help improve this chapter.
> 
> Please note that Dr. Vess and Michael Jr. both use the F-word extremely frequently in their everyday speech. You have been warned.
> 
> If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 19**

**Kazakhstan**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Crackle slowly opened his eyes, and then blinked when all he saw was white. Everything was too bright, and he gave another few blinks before glancing around him. 

“You’re awake!” Theodore exclaimed, startling him.

Crackle’s gaze focused on the three people sitting by his bed, and he stared for a long moment, before he recognized them. Theodore, Roosevelt, and Paper Star. They were his team. Raising a hand to his face, he rubbed at his eyes for a moment, trying to remember what happened. All he could remember was meeting with Team Red, getting car sick and then saying he was going to walk. Everything after that was blank.

“What happened?” Crackle asked, “Where am I?”

The twins exchanged a look, and then Theodore hesitantly replied. “You had a seizure.”

“You’re in the hospital,” Roosevelt added.

Crackle hurriedly sat up. “Hospital?!”

“We thought you were dying,” Theodore answered sheepishly.

“Did you get authorization for this?!” Crackle asked in alarm, glancing around the room.

The twins both shook their heads, and Crackle frowned up at them. “This is against protocol!” he scolded, “I’ll have to report this.”

“Well, we could have just left you lying there,” Paper Star responded with a shrug.

Crackle raised a hand to his aching head. “You should have called Dr. Bellum or Dr. Vess for authorization. I’m the leader of this team, and I’m going to be held responsible for this. They have every right to severely punish me for this!”

The twins gave him a look of concern. “But it wasn’t your fault!” Roosevelt pointed out.

“It **was** my fault,” Crackle corrected angrily, “As your leader, I should have ensured you’d **never** break protocol. I’ve clearly been too easy on all of you!”

Paper Star gave the twins a flat look. “Yeah...we should have just left him there,” she deadpanned.

“No, I would have still helped him,” Theodore said firmly.

Crackle let out a sigh, knowing there was nothing he could do about it now that it was done. “I don’t remember the seizure,” he replied, “What did the doctors say?”

Once again the twins hesitated, but Paper Star spoke up without hesitation.

“They said you have brain damage,” she replied, “Your brain apparently looks like it got severe radiation damage. Your brainwaves were all over the place, and it seems like your brain is struggling to tell your left hemisphere from your right.”

Crackle simply stared at her. “Brain damage?”

She nodded, not looking bothered in the least. “I’m assuming it was from whatever experiments Dr. Bellum did on you when she was erasing your memories. Your brain is pretty much scrambled eggs at this point.”

Crackle grimaced, knowing this was not the result Dr. Bellum would have wanted. “And the seizure?” he questioned.

Paper Star gave a shrug. “From what the doctors can tell, your brain is trying to rewire itself from all of the damage. You took the seizure from an overload in your brain when a signal from your nerves was interrupted. They want to run further tests on you so they can tell the extent of the damage.”

Crackle immediately shook his head. “**No** , no more tests. I’m V.I.L.E property and civilians cannot learn about **any** of Dr. Bellum’s experiments. This could put V.I.L.E at risk. We need to leave.”

“We should wait to get your blood results first,” Theodore suggested, “They’re trying to rule out all other causes of the brain damage, and are making sure it’s not a parasite or infection.”

Crackle hesitated, the thought of a brain parasite completely horrifying. “When are the results coming back?”

“In the morning,” Roosevelt answered, glancing at the clock. “You should just rest for a few hours until the results come back.”

Crackle looked at the clock and saw it was nearly 8pm. He had missed the whole afternoon. “Where’s Dash?” he demanded, “Did you bring him with you?”

“No, we left him back at the motel so he could sleep,” Theodore replied.

Crackle rubbed at his head, feeling frustrated, but knowing it would be wise to spend the night. Once they got his results, they could sneak out of the hospital. “I don’t like the idea of Dash being left by himself this long. Someone needs to go check on him.”

“We could just call him?” Theodore suggested.

Crackle shook his head. “No, he could need help getting up, and he’d never admit it. Plus I doubt he’s been eating when I’m not there to nag him. Someone go check on him.”

Everyone exchanged a look, and then Roosevelt nodded. “I’ll go,” he stated, “I needed to stop at the store anyway.”

Crackle seemed a little more at ease now and he returned the nod. “Call me once you get there.”

“Okay,” Roosevelt agreed, “Do you need me to bring anything back?”

“We need to raid Team Red’s base,” Paper Star pointed out, “Bring Crackle his tablet.”

Crackle had forgotten about that, and knew they’d **finally** be able to track down Carmen Sandiego. “Yes, bring my tablet, and I’ll see if the tracking device worked. If we know where their base is, we’ll begin making our plan of attack.”

Roosevelt nodded. “Okay, I’ll be back in an hour.”

Roosevelt was honestly glad to get out of that hospital room, the whole situation making him extremely uncomfortable. He was always awkward around people who were sick or injured, and never quite knew how to react. Theodore on the other hand, had a much kinder nature, and he instinctively gravitated towards people who were hurt or upset. When their younger brother Delano was still living, it had always been Theodore who had comforted him when he’d cried or gotten injured. Delano had always been overly emotional, and Roosevelt didn’t understand it, and had been more than willing to let Theodore handle that sort of thing.

Roosevelt grimaced at the thought of Delano, the loss still painful even though it had been ten years. For most of their lives, it had been just the three of them, and they always knew they could depend on each other for anything. Delano was smarter than the twins had any hope of ever comprehending, and they had depended on their brother to always make the plans and get them out of trouble. Delano in turn had depended on the twins to protect him, and they balanced each other out, making the perfect team.

Roosevelt thought of Delano’s cocky smirk, and his laugh, and closed his eyes for a moment, pushing all thoughts of him out of his mind. Roosevelt was good at blocking out his emotions, and focused his thoughts on his task instead. He would stop at the store, and then check on Dash.

When Roosevelt left the hospital, he saw the sun was setting and it was going to be dark soon. Pulling the hood up on his sweater, he headed for the van, wondering where he could go to buy supplies for Steve. There was a ticket waiting for him on the windshield of the van, and he realized they’d forgotten to feed the meter in their haste to get Crackle to the hospital. Snatching the ticket off the windshield, he glanced at it and saw it was a $30 ticket for an expired meter. Rolling his eyes, he crumpled it up and tossed it over his shoulder without another thought.

Getting in the van, he turned on the ignition and then pulled out onto the road. As he drove along, he kept his eyes on the stores as he passed them, looking for a pet store. He finally spotted a large chain pet store and pulled into the parking lot, hoping they were still open. Relieved when he saw the neon ‘open’ sign, he found a parking spot and then got out of the van.

The second he entered the pet store, the store employees stared with wide eyes at the massive man wearing a hoodie, certain they were about to be robbed. 

“Er...good evening,” one of the employees called out towards him.

Roosevelt grunted, but didn’t respond, simply glancing around the enormous store in confusion.

“Go ask him if he needs help!” the store manager ordered one of her employees. 

“No way, I don’t want to get murdered!” the employee responded, “Make Ashley do it!”

The cashier’s eyes widened in horror. “Me?! Why me?”

“You’re a new hire and are at the bottom of the totem pole!” the employee responded, giving her a shove in the direction of Roosevelt.

“I’m only fourteen!” Ashley protested, “I’m pretty sure this is against some kind of rule!”

“Go on!” the manager ordered, “We have to greet every customer and offer them help!”

Ashley glanced at Roosevelt, who had grabbed a cart and wandered off down an aisle, and gulped. “He looks like he’s going to tear my head off with his bare hands!”

“Go!” the manager ordered, giving her another shove. “Go help him!”

Ashley carefully crept to the aisle Roosevelt had gone down and she saw he was staring at the cage of rescue kittens they had on display. Roosevelt stared for a moment, and then poked an enormous sausage-sized finger through the bars of the cage to gently pet the head of one of the kittens. Ashley relaxed and smiled, and then approached him with a bit more confidence.

“Good evening, Sir,” she greeted, “Can I help you find anything?”

Roosevelt turned to face her, and Ashley froze in fear, his severe and angry looking expression chilling her to the bone. 

“Where are your cat things?” Roosevelt asked, removing his finger from the cage.

“Um...I’ll show you!” she replied, motioning for him to follow her.

Roosevelt followed her to the other side of the store, and Ashley motioned around her. “These three aisles are all items for cats. What were you looking for?”

Roosevelt honestly wasn’t sure and scratched his head as he considered the question. “Everything,” he finally responded.

Ashley paused. “Everything?” she repeated.

Roosevelt nodded. “I don’t know what I need to take care of a cat.”

Ashley nodded. “Oh, you just adopted a cat?” she guessed.

“We found him near a dumpster,” Roosevelt explained, “His name is Steve.”

Ashley smiled up at him, now certain that Roosevelt only **looked** scary. “I can help you get everything you need. Do you know what sort of litter box you want?”

Roosevelt frowned. “There’s different kinds?”

“I’ll show you!” Ashley said, gently taking him by the sleeve.

An hour later, Roosevelt had a cart rounded full of items and followed Ashley as she led him up to the register to pay. He had no idea cats needed so many things, and hoped it wouldn’t be too hard to take care of Steve. What if they forgot something? Would he die? Roosevelt hoped not, and had a feeling Crackle would be furious if that happend.

The store manager stared at the cart in disbelief and then at the smiling Ashley, and slowly put down her phone. She’d already punched in 911 on the phone, and knew if things got bad, she just had to hit call. 

She stood back as Ashley began ringing in the purchases, and as the total got higher and higher, the manager became skeptical. She looked Roosevelt up and down, and still expected him to rob them at any moment.

“Okay, so that $1342.57!” Ashley announced. 

Roosevelt nodded and reached into his pocket, not noticing how the manager immediately reached for her phone. He pulled out his wallet and then held up his debit card. Ashley handed over the card terminal, and as Roosevelt entered his information, Ashley shot another smile at the manager.

“What’s that?” Roosevelt asked, pointing to the large coffee can sitting on the counter.

“This is a charity for sick animals,” Ashley responded, “Would you like to donate?”

Roosevelt stared at the can for a moment and then pulled a hundred out of his wallet. Stuffing it through the hole in the can, he then handed back the debit machine and waited as his receipt was printed.

“Here’s a pamphlet from a really good vet,” Ashley told him, placing the booklet into one of the bags. “You should probably bring your cat there to be looked at by a vet as soon as possible.”

Rosevelt hadn’t even thought of a vet, and gave a hesitant nod. “...okay.”

“Do you need help out to your car with all these bags?” Ashley asked him.

Roosevelt looked down at the tiny girl and raised a brow. “No,” he simply responded, grabbing the massive amount of bags in one hand.

Roosevelt didn’t say another word and just headed for the door. Once he was gone, the manager let out a deep breath of relief.

“Did he hurt you, Ashley?” she asked.

Ashley let out a snort. “Oh, like you care, Debbie. You were fully prepared to let him murder me if he wanted. Luckily for me, he just **looked** scary. He was really worried about taking care of the little cat he rescued this afternoon. He’d never owned a cat before, and was a bit nervous.”

The manager stared out the window at Roosevelt who was loading the bags into the back of the van. “I still think he’s trouble,” she stated.

When Roosevelt had the last bag loaded, he got in the van and didn’t notice the pet store employees were all staring at him. As he drove away, he realized he’d taken a lot longer than expected, and hoped Crackle wouldn’t be angry. When he pulled into the parking lot of the motel, he passed by a large man leaving the motel and he hesitated. That looked like Moose Boy… It **couldn’t** be, he had to be mistaken! Roosevelt glanced over his shoulder, but he could only see the man’s back and now he wasn’t so sure. Shaking his head, he parked and then got out of the van to unload the bags.

He fumbled at the motel room door for a minute or so and when he finally got it unlocked, he was met with the sight of Dash glaring at him.

“You were gone for **hours**!” Dash snarled at him, “Why did no one call me?”

“Sorry, Dash,” Roosevelt responded, setting the bags down on the floor. “We were waiting for answers before we called you.”

“Well, what happened?”

“Um…” Roosevelt responded, trying to remember what the doctors had said. “Crackle has brain damage from...something. I don’t remember.”

“Wait, what?” Dash demanded, “Brain damage? What kind of brain damage?”

Roosevelt hesitated. “I’m not the best person to ask…” he answered, “I don’t know.”

Dash let out an aggravated sigh. “Trying to get information out of you is like trying to communicate with a mushroom.”

Roosevelt nodded. “Thank you.”

Dash rolled his eyes, and then turned his attention to the pile of bags. “What’s all that?” he demanded.

“Stuff for Steve.” 

Dash stared at the dozen bags with an incredulous look on his face. “I thought you were just buying a litter box and kibble?!”

Roosevelt glanced over at Steve who was glaring at him from where he was curled up on top of Dash. “The girl at the pet store said we need this stuff in order to take care of him…”

Dash sighed, having a feeling Roosevelt had been tricked into wasting a lot of money. “What did you get?”

Dash watched as Roosevelt pulled out item after item out of the bags and saw he had chosen the most expensive brands. Steve now had a covered litter box, a scratching post, a cat bed, a cat carrier, a food dish, a cat fountain, a brush, nail clippers, shampoo, and dozens of other small items that had Dash sighing again.

“We’re not even keeping the cat!” 

“Well...we should still take care of him in the meantime,” Roosevelt responded, reaching out a hand to pat Steve. He immediately got scratched and jerked his hand back in surprise.

“Serves you right,” Dash responded irritably, “No one likes being poked at.”

Roosevelt frowned at the cat and then went back to setting everything up where it wouldn’t be in the way.

“Put the litter box over where Neal sleeps,” Dash ordered. “The stench of Neal will probably mask the smell of the litter box.”

Roosevelt rolled his eyes but did as he was told and put the litter box on the other side of the room, near Neal’s spot. “Neal doesn’t smell,” Roosevelt pointed out.

“Well, he looks like he would,” Dash responded unapologetically, “He’s gross.”

Roosevelt didn’t bother answering as he filled the food bowl with kibble, and then set up the water fountain. Dash watched him without offering to help, and when Roosevelt was done arranging everything, he grabbed Crackle’s tablet and then turned back towards the door.

“I told Crackle I’d only be an hour and I’m late,” he explained, ”I have to go.”

“Wait, Crackle’s awake and you didn’t think to tell me this?!” 

“Uh...sorry.”

Dash let out a huff. “Can you get either Crackle or Paper Star to call me so I can find out what’s going on?”

Roosevelt nodded. “Crackle is just waiting for some test results, and so we shouldn’t be too long.”

“Well, I still want a call,” Dash ordered.

Roosevelt gave him another nod. “Okay,” he promised, “I’ll ask Crackle to call you. Oh, he told me to make sure you eat something so...please eat something.”

Dash simply rolled his eyes, and didn’t bother answering.

The second Roosevelt left the room, Steve immediately leapt down off Dash and sped over to the food dish and then began wolfing down food as fast as it could. Dash watched for a few moments and then grimaced.

“Ugh, you eat like Neal.”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Moose Boy whistled jauntily to himself as he approached the motel, pizza in hand. Both hands full from the pizza box and soda, he gave a light kick to the door to knock.

[[Sven, my hands are full, can you open the door for me?]] he called loudly.

There was no response.

Moose Boy kicked again, a bit harder this time. [[Sven?]] he questioned, [[Open up!]]

There was still no response and Moose Boy frowned. Maybe Otterman was in the bathroom and couldn’t hear him? Letting out a sigh, he set the pizza and soda on the ground, and then stuck his key into the lock. He opened the door, and while using a foot to hold it open, he picked up the food and headed inside.

Otterman was sound asleep on the bed, and Moose Boy gave him a fond smile, knowing how the other man hadn’t been sleeping well. Setting the box and bottle of soda on the nearby desk, he closed the door and then headed for the bed.

[[Sven,]] Moose Boy said softly, shaking his shoulder. [[I’m back with supper. Wake up.]]

Otterman didn’t so much as stir, and so Moose Boy gave him a harder shake.

[[Sven, it’s too early to go to bed. You need to eat something,]] he told him, [[Come on, time to wake up.]]

When Otterman still didn’t move, Moose Boy became concerned, and shook him incredibly hard.

[[Sven? Wake up!]] he said loudly, [[Sven!]]

Otterman lobbed as he was shaken, but his eyes remained closed. Moose was now in full panic mode, and he quickly checked to see if he was breathing, and was relieved to see the gentle rise and fall of Otterman’s chest. Moose Boy hesitated a moment and then gave a light slap to Otterman’s face. When he didn’t get so much as a twitch, Moose Boy gave him a powerful slap that was hard enough to jerk Otterman’s entire body.

Otterman’s eyes flew open and he clutched at his face, having no idea what was going on.

“What the **hell**, Henrik?!” he yelled out in English. 

Suddenly Otterman’s stomach lurched and he had just enough time to lean over the side of the bed as he was violently sick. He couldn’t seem to stop, and a moment later, he felt a gentle hand rubbing his back as he vomited. When he was finally done, Otterman simply laid there feeling dizzy and exhausted.

[[Sven?]] Moose Boy questioned, [[Are you alright?]]

When Otterman didn’t answer, Moose Boy rolled him over and saw he was falling back asleep. Moose Boy immediately slapped him and Otterman jerked awake with a startled flail.

[[What happened?]] Moose Boy demanded, [[How many of those pills did you take?]]

Otterman’s eyes were unfocused, and he didn’t answer, looking like he was going to close his eyes again. Moose Boy slapped him again, but this time Otterman barely reacted.

[[Sven? Can you answer me?]]

Otterman didn’t respond, his skin quickly turning pale. When his eyes closed, Moose Boy slapped him again.

[[I’m taking you to the hospital,]] Moose Boy told him, [[Don’t you **dare** fall asleep again!]]

Moose Boy grabbed his com and then hesitated. What was the emergency number in America? Was it 999 or was that England? Moose Boy bit his lower lip, and then reached over and shook Otterman’s shoulder.

[[Sven, what number do I dial? I can’t remember!]]

Otterman let out a low groan and didn’t answer.

Knowing he had to act fast, Moose Boy scooped Otterman into his arms, and then hurried for the door. Throwing the door open, he raced across the parking lot in the direction of Team Crackle’s room. With one massive kick, he broke the lock on the door which flew open with a loud crash. 

Dash let out a startled shriek and fell out of bed, Steve immediately poofing up and hissing at the intruder.

“I need your help!” Moose Boy begged, “What’s the number for 911?” **

Dash stared up at Moose Boy in complete disbelief, still sprawled awkwardly on the floor. “What the **hell**, you moron! You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“I need your help!” Moose Boy yelled.

“What are you even doing in San Diego?!” Dash demanded, now noticing Otterman in the man’s arms. “What did you idiots do **now**? What happened?”

“You need to help me!” Moose Boy said desperately, “I think Sven overdosed!”

Dash’s eyes widened, and he was instantly serious. “Lay him down on the floor,” he ordered.

Moose Boy did as he was told, and Dash crawled over to him, clearly in a lot of pain. He immediately noticed Otterman was incredibly pale, and his breathing seemed to be shallow and slow. Reaching out, he laid a hand on his cheek and noticed the skin felt cool to the touch. Gently lifting one of his eyelids, he saw his eyes were dilated, and when he gave him a hard pinch on the arm, he was unresponsive.

“What did he take?” Dash demanded, reaching for his duffle bag. 

“I..I don’t know,” Moose Boy replied, trying to remember the name of the medication. 

“I need to know this,” Dash said impatiently as he unzipped the bag. “Heroin?”

“No, it was...oh, it’s in his pocket!”

Dash felt Otterman’s pants and then pulled a bottle out of his pocket. Looking at the label, he grimaced.

“Oxy... it’s an opiate overdose. How much did he take?”

Again Moose Boy shook his head, feeling useless. “I don’t know! He’s been taking more and more lately and then lying about it. He told me he only took one, but I know he took at **least** two.”

“These are an incredibly high dose,” Dash said with a frown. “We need to move fast.”

Moose Boy watched as Dash pulled a small kit out of his duffle bag, and then stared with wide eyes as he removed a bottle of clear liquid and a syringe. With practiced ease, Dash removed the cap of the liquid and then stuck the syringe through the rubber stopper, filling it with the liquid.

“What is **that**?!” Moose Boy asked in concern.

“Naloxone,” Dash responded distractedly, “It will hopefully save this idiot’s life.”

Without another word, Dash pushed up Otterman’s sleeve and then stabbed the needle deep into the shoulder muscle. Injecting the Naloxone, he yanked out the needle and then set it aside, keeping a close eye on Otterman’s breathing. Opiate overdoses caused people to stop breathing on their own which is what normally caused brain damage or death.

Otterman’s breathing was incredibly shallow,and so Dash tilted Otterman’s head back, pinched his nose closed and then began giving him mouth to mouth. Moose Boy watched worriedly, and when after a couple minutes there was no improvement in the breathing, Dash once again reached for the Naloxone. He gave him another injection, this time in the other shoulder, and then once again, began giving him mouth to mouth.

After a couple minutes, Otterman began to breathe normally, and Dash let out a breath of relief and then looked up at Moose Boy.

“We just need to keep an eye on him now. The Naloxone will begin to wear off in about an hour, and he may need to be redosed.”

Moose Boy stared at his partner, still feeling absolutely terrified. “Is he going to be okay?”

Dash stared at him for a moment, and then hesitantly asked. “How long was he unconscious before you brought him to me?”

“Just a minute or so,” Moose Boy responded, “I managed to wake him up once when I slapped him, and he yelled at me and then threw up before falling back asleep.”

Dash gave a nod, knowing that Otterman stood a good chance of recovering if he was only unconscious for a few minutes before the Naloxone was administered. 

“How long was his breathing bad?” Dash demanded.

“It only started getting really bad once we were here in your room,” Moose Boy replied, “We need to take him to a hospital.”

“Do you have fake IDs you can use to admit him with?” Dash asked, keeping a close eye on Otterman’s breathing.

“Er...I don’t think so. We came here in a bit of a hurry…” Moose Boy admitted, “Mr. Roundabout wanted us to keep a low profile, and I don’t think we were given fake IDs other than the ones we traveled with.”

Dash stared at him in surprise. “What? Roundabout never mentioned there were other operatives here! I thought you two were on leave after the disaster in Turkey.”

Moose Boy’s eyes widened and he slapped both hands over his mouth. Dash raised a brow at him.

“What, are you on some sort of secret mission or something?”

Moose Boy seemed to panic and he frantically shook his head. “No, no, I’ve already said too much! We weren’t even supposed to let your team know we were here!”

Dash rolled his eyes, knowing whatever their mission was, they’d probably already screwed it up. “Help me get him onto one of the beds.”

Moose Boy easily lifted Otterman onto the nearest bed. Gripping the edge of the bed, Dash struggled to his feet, feeling like his abdomen was being ripped open. He set the syringe and Naloxone on the bedside table, and then rolled Otterman onto his side.

“Keep him on his side in case he throws up,” Dash ordered, clutching his stomach in pain. “Make sure his breathing stays steady.”

“You’re not looking too good,” Moose Boy observed.

Dash gave him a glare, and slowly took a seat on his own bed. “You **think** , moron? I just had an operation, and then I fell out of bed when you burst into the room like a...like a stupid **moose**!”

“Thank you, Dash Haber,” Moose Boy said genuinely, “Thank you for saving Sven!”

Dash gave him a grumpy look, and laid back down with a wince, Steve immediately hopping back up to lay beside him.

“Why did you have that stuff?” Moose Boy asked, glancing at the Naloxone.

Dash gave him a shrug. “I worked closely with Countess Cleo and I’ve attended a **lot** of parties with excessive amounts of drugs and alcohol. The rich always like to have a good time, but sometimes they would overindulge and overdose. I saw several people die, and so I began carrying a Naloxone kit everywhere I went...just in case.”

Moose Boy wasn’t the most observant person in the world, but he had the feeling Dash wasn’t telling him everything. There was a sad and distant look in Dash’s eyes, and Moose Boy frowned, wondering what the other man was hiding. 

Turning his attention to Otterman, he placed a gentle hand on top of his head, knowing how close he had come to losing him. Moose Boy had no idea what he’d do without Otterman and the thought was both devastating and terrifying. He couldn’t even imagine a life without him, and Moose Boy wiped at his eyes, the full gravity of the situation finally sinking in. Otterman had lied to him, and then almost died. 

“Oh, Sven…” he whispered, “**Please** don’t die…”

Dash glanced over at him for a long moment, watching as the enormous man wiped at tears with his massive hands.

“He’ll be fine,” Dash found himself assuring him, “You caught it just in time. Once the drugs are out of his system, he’ll wake up.”

Moose Boy turned hopeful eyes to him. “You promise?” he demanded, desperation lacing his every word.

Dash honestly wasn’t sure, but he gave him a nod. “Just keep an eye on his breathing. As long as he’s breathing normally, we don’t have to worry.”

“Thank you,” Moose Boy said again, “Thank you so much!”

“You’d better stay here tonight so we can both keep an eye on him during the night.”

Moose Boy nodded, and then pulled Otterman up beside him, planning on staying up the whole night until his partner finally woke up.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Neal awoke to the sound of thrashing, and Zack speaking in a hushed tone. Opening his eyes, he glanced over and squinted in the direction of the other bed. Due to his poor eyesight, he couldn’t really tell what was going on, but it was obvious Mime Bomb was kicking and thrashing in bed. A nightmare possibly?

He heard Zack hushing Mime Bomb, and after a few seconds the thrashing stopped. Neal couldn’t hear exactly what was being said, but Zack’s tone was calm and gentle. A few minutes later, they went quiet and Neal assumed they’d gone back to sleep, and so he rolled over to go back to sleep himself. He dozed for a while but he was once again awoken when Mime Bomb had another nightmare. This time Neal sat up and stared over at the other bed, wondering if this was a common occurrence. When Zack got Mime Bomb back to sleep, he glanced over at Neal, and then slipped out of bed.

“Everything alright, ginger?” Neal whispered, as Zack approached.

“Mime Bomb sometimes has nightmares,” Zack quietly replied, “I’m gonna go get some breakfast. You want some, or are you going back to sleep?”

“Breakfast sounds great actually,” Neal replied.

Zack held out his hands and helped Neal to his feet, and then they made their way to the door quietly, leaving Mime Bomb to sleep a while longer. Once they were out of the room, Neal gave Zack a questioning look who pretended not to notice. Zack helped Neal into the kitchen, and once the villain was seated at the table, Zack made his way to the fridge.

“Oh...no one got groceries,” he observed in disappointment, “Hopefully you don’t mind cereal.”

“Cereal’s fine,” Neal responded, resting an elbow on the table as he watched him. 

Zack opened the pantry door and then stood staring with a frown. “Okay, we got Fruity Loop-de-loos, Captain Bunch of Munch, and Honey Nut Oat Circles.”

Neal raised a brow.

“I know, I know,” Zack grumbled, “Ivy thinks name brands are a waste of money and she always buys store brand **everything**.”

“Sounds like my brother,” Neal responded in amusement. “I grew up eating white label everything. We weren’t even poor, he was just cheap. Not-Froot Loops are fine with me.”

Zack gave Neal an odd look, never really considering the fact villains had families too. It seemed strange to think that he could relate to a villain, but he knew he shouldn’t think like that. Mime Bomb used to be their enemy too, and Zack now saw that V.I.L.E weren’t just cardboard cutout villains; they were real people with real thoughts and feelings. Everyone had their own story, and Zack had a feeling things were going to get more complicated the next time they had to face Neal as an enemy.

Zack set the box of cereal on the table and then got bowls and spoons from the cupboard. Luckily there was milk, and when Zack took a seat across from Neal, he filled his bowl without a word. They ate in silence for a few minutes, but Zack couldn’t get something out of his mind.

“Um, Neal?”

“Hmm?”

“Look, I never got the chance to thank you for saving my life back at that lumbermill…”

Neal stared at him for a moment and then shrugged. “No big deal, ginger.”

“No,” Zack insisted firmly, “Thank you.”

Neal cocked his head as if considering his response. “You’re welcome,” he finally replied.

To Neal’s surprise, Zack then held out a hand towards him to shake. “My name is Zack.”

Neal hesitantly accepted the handshake. “Well, now I guess I can stop calling you ginger.”

Zack laughed. “Considering there’s four gingers on our team, that’s probably a good idea.”

“Is Mime Bomb okay?” Neal asked, taking a bite of cereal.

Zack hesitated. “He’s getting better,” he finally replied, “He’s been through a lot and it’s taken its toll on him. He’s a good guy, and he deserves better.”

Neal gave him a thoughtful look. “You guys really are like a family, aren’t you?” he asked.

Zack nodded. “It didn’t start out that way, but after living and working together, we all got really close, and after a while we just became a giant family.”

Zack paused and watched Neal for a moment with a frown. “Antonio told us he asked you to join us.”

“He did,” Neal confirmed, “I turned him down.”

Zack furrowed his brow. “Why?” he questioned, “Why would you want to stay with V.I.L.E when you know how evil they are?”

Neal reached for the box of cereal and poured himself a second bowl. “I don’t really want to get into this again, but I’m not betraying my team. You’re loyal to your team, and I’m loyal to mine. I won’t join you until the day my whole team does the same.”

This made sense to Zack. “You have a found-family of your own.”

Neal frowned. He didn’t really think of his team as family, but he couldn’t deny that he was starting to get attached to them. In his opinion, it was more like a one-sided friendship since he felt certain his whole team despised him. Neal was used to being hated, and so this didn’t really bother him. He knew he was weird and annoying, and he wasn’t willing to change who he was just to please other people.

Neal didn’t answer Zack, instead focusing on his cereal.

“I should probably put on a pot of coffee for Mime Bomb,” Zack said, more to himself than to Neal. “He pretty much lives on caffeine.”

“Sounds like Dash,” Neal responded in amusement, “You don’t dare talk to him until he’s had at least two coffees in the morning.”

“I heard what happened with Dash, and I’m really sorry that happened,” Zack told him, “I don’t know what they were thinking.”

Neal simply stared at him. “You weren’t here during all that?”

Zack shook his head as he carried their empty bowls to the sink. “No, Mime Bomb and I were in Wales for the last few days.”

“A mission?”

“Nope, just leisure,” Zack replied.

Neal wrinkled his nose. “Wales? Who the hell chooses to go to Wales willingly?! There’s nothing there besides sheep and rain.”

Zack gave a shrug, having no intention of telling their enemy about any of this. He started a pot of coffee without a word, and as it began to perk, he turned back towards Neal. 

“Normally I’d ask if you wanted to watch tv or something, but well...Mime Bomb kinda wrecked the tv last night and so there’s not much else to do.”

Neal shot him a grin. “Who knew that cute little mime had so much rage in him, eh?” 

“...I don't think anyone was expecting that,” Zack admitted, “Here, I’ll help you back to bed and I’ll bring you the Switch or a book or something.” 

Knowing he didn’t really have a choice, Neal nodded, and allowed Zack to help him back to his feet. It was still dark and Neal had no idea what time it was, but figured he could grab a few more hours of sleep before he tried to come up with a plan of escape. Neal’s foot was still bruised and painful, but he knew he could walk on it if absolutely necessary. He wasn’t going to let Team Red know that though and so he allowed Zack to support him as he limped along.

Once he was back in the bedroom, Zack sat him down on the bed and then went to check Mime Bomb. The other boy was still asleep, and so Zack grabbed some clothes out of his dresser, and turned towards the door.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he informed him, “You want the Switch or a book before I go?”

“I’m fine for now, love,” Neal told him, “I’m just going to sleep for a while longer.”

Zack gave him a nod. “If Mime Bomb wakes up, let him know there’s coffee in the kitchen for him.”

“Will do,” Neal promised.

The second Zack was gone, Neal glanced around the room, looking for a way to escape. He didn’t realize he was going to be left unsupervised, and he was definitely going to take advantage of this while he had the chance. Pulling himself up to his feet, he slowly and carefully made his way over to the shuttered window. Pressing a hand against the metal sheeting, he doubted he could get through that without a blowtorch. 

“Neal, what are you doing?” came an accusatory voice over the speakers.

Neal glanced at the speaker and then at the camera that was aimed straight at him. “Er...nothing, Tiny Tim.”

“Don’t make me tattle on you,” Player responded, sounding a bit distracted. “I’m keeping an eye on the cameras.”

“Do you ever sleep, kid?!” Neal asked in disbelief.

“I sleep through my boring classes,” Player answered, “And I do my homework while watching the cameras.”

“Homework? What are you working on?” Neal asked.

“Advanced Calculus and it’s kicking my butt,” Player admitted, “Ugh, I have to have this sheet emailed to my teacher in an hour.”

Neal scratched at his chin as he seemed to consider something. After a few seconds, he responded. “I was pretty good at math when I was in school. Do you need help?”

“You know advanced calculus?” Player asked in surprise.

“Well, I’m probably a bit rusty, but I took advanced calculus for three years of highschool, and then again during my V.I.L.E training.”

“Really?” Player exclaimed in shock.

Neal rolled his eyes. “Why does everyone always assume I’m stupid?”

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that!” Player assured him, “I just didn’t expect V.I.L.E to teach things like that.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, squirt,” Neal answered in amusement, “V.I.L.E doesn’t choose morons to enter their academy unless they can fight. Dr. Bellum’s course involved a **lot** of math.”

“Um, yeah,” Player said hesitantly, “I could use some help. Thank you, Neal.”

“No, problem, love,” Neal answered as he limped his way back to bed. “Hit me with the equation.”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Terry was not impressed at all. Instead of guarding a Siren-free lab like he’d been hoping for, he’d been assigned to guard Siren while he was unconscious. He was now seated in a lawn chair in the corner of the room, feeling bored and irritable. He glared at Siren for a while, but it was kind of hard to stay upset at someone who looked so pathetic. 

Now that Siren was actually quiet for once, Terry noted how sweet and innocent he looked while sleeping. He let out a snort, knowing how deceiving looks could be. Siren was responsible for more deaths than any current V.I.L.E operative. If rumours were to be believed, he had been responsible for the previous building burning to the ground. It could never be proven however, since Siren’s mind was such a wreck and he couldn’t remember any of the violent things he did.

Terry pitied him in a way, fully aware of how none of this was Siren’s fault, but he still resented him. Siren had no business being within V.I.L.E, and Terry knew he needed to be within some sort of institution. Someone like Siren was a danger to everyone around him, and he needed serious help that V.I.L.E could not provide.

Siren was hooked up to several machines to monitor him, and Terry had no idea what was in the IVs, but he suspected it was fluids and sedatives. Siren was just wearing a white hospital gown, and Terry could see how terribly thin the smaller man was. Dr. Vess really needed to start taking better care of Siren, because he was likely to get sick at this rate.

Terry finally tore his eyes away from Siren and pulled his cellphone out of his pocket. Guards were strictly prohibited from use of personal phones within the compound, but there was no one here to see him. He doubted they’d fire him anyway, considering he was the only guard still willing to work anywhere near Siren.

He watched several YouTube videos in silence, and when the door suddenly opened, he glanced up in confusion. He didn’t think anyone was supposed to come until later that afternoon. A doctor wearing a white coat entered the room and then froze at the sight of Terry.

“What are you doing in here?!” the doctor demanded angrily. “Are you hiding in here to avoid work?”

Terry gave him a dirty look. “No, I’m Siren’s guard. I’m **supposed** to be here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” the doctor scolded, “Siren doesn’t **have** a personal guard!”

“Dr. Vess assigned me to remain here until his return in a few days.”

“Well, you can go take a lunch break, I’ll watch him until you get back.”

Terry shook his head and pointed to a backpack beside his chair. “Nope. I’m not supposed to leave this room for any reason. I have all the food and water I need for several days right here.”

The doctor glared at him and then let out a heavy sigh. “Fine, but just don’t get in my way while I tend to my patient.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Terry replied, going back to his YouTube video.

The doctor stared at Terry for a few seconds, but when it was obvious the guard was ignoring him, he approached Siren and knelt down beside the bed. Opening his medical bag, he pulled out a stethoscope and listened to Siren’s chest silently. Although it appeared that Terry wasn’t paying attention, he was actually watching everything the doctor was doing out of his peripheral vision. He noticed the doctor kept glancing at him, and so he made sure to look completely invested in his video.

The doctor did all the usual checks of blood pressure, checking the eyes and ears, all the while shooting glances at Terry. Terry then saw him remove something out of his bag and approach Siren’s IVs. Glancing over, he saw the man had a syringe filled with a yellow liquid, and was removing the stopper from the needle. Just as he began reaching for one of the IV lines, Terry dove forward and slapped the syringe out of his hand.

“What the **hell** do you think you’re doing?” Terry demanded, “What **is** that?!”

The doctor gave him an annoyed look. “It’s just some medication to help with his...episodes.”

Terry shook his head. “No.”

The doctor gave him a confused look. “No?” he repeated.

“Dr. Vess said **no one** is to touch his medications or IVs while he’s gone other than Dr. Brahm,” Terry replied, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

The doctor stared at him for a few moments and then heaved a sigh. “Look, the whole compound wants this psycho gone. They’re tired of living in fear of his next murder spree. I’ll be doing the world a favour. It will be completely painless, I promise.”

Terry placed himself between the doctor and Siren. “He’s mentally ill,” Terry responded in absolute fury, “It’s not his fault he’s forced to be here. None of this is his fault.”

The doctor rolled his eyes. “You hate him just as much as everyone else. How many of your partners have you seen killed by this abomination?”

Terry clenched his jaw. “It’s not his fault,” he insisted, “He only lashes out when he feels threatened. The reason I’ve lived so long is that I’ve never tried to grab him when he’s disassociating. If you don’t go near him, he doesn’t hurt you. I warned Natasha, but she didn’t listen and she ended up dead because of it.”

“Are you actually trying to defend him?” the doctor asked incredulously, “You’re the person who complains the most about him. You never hesitate to tell anyone and everyone how much you hate working with Siren.”

Terry glanced down at Siren with a frown. “It’s true that I complain about Siren being a rude, vindictive little brat, but that doesn’t mean I’d want to see him hurt.”

“Step aside, guard,” the doctor ordered, “Vess has **never** left Siren helpless like this before, and he probably never will again. We only have one chance to get rid of him, and I’ll be damned if I miss the opportunity.”

Terry shook his head. “I’m not going to let you hurt him,” he said firmly.

“Step aside,” the doctor ordered, shoving Terry in the shoulder to move him.

Terry shoved him back twice as hard. “I said **no**!” Terry snarled, “I suggest you leave this room or I’m going to throw you out!”

“Are you seriously going to defend Siren?” the doctor demanded angrily, “We’d be better off without him and you know it!”

Terry knew they really would be better off without Siren, but he wasn’t going to allow the murder of someone so helpless. He was hired to protect Siren, and he’d be damned if he failed.

“Back off,” Terry warned.

“It’s not just me who wants this monster dead,” the doctor informed him, “If I fail, others will be here soon. You can’t fight off a whole mob. Eventually, they’re going to get past you, and Siren **will** be killed.”

Terry narrowed his eyes to slits and then, without any hesitation, he pulled out his standard-issued Crackle Rod and tased the doctor. He tased him a second time just to make sure he’d stay out for a while, and then he glanced down at Siren. What was he going to do? The doctor was right in the fact Terry wouldn’t be able to fight off an entire mob of people. If he locked the door, they’d just break the lock, and then there’d be nothing he could do to stop them.

Terry frowned, and knew if he wanted to protect Siren then he had to hide him somehow. Where could he hide him though? Knowing he’d have to figure it out later, he unhooked the IVs from the stand and set the bags on top of Siren for the time being. He put on his backpack, knowing it was a possibility he’d have to hide for the next few days. He then wrapped Siren in a blanket and lifted him into his arms. Siren didn’t weigh that much, and Terry knew he’d be able to carry him for a long time if necessary. 

Adjusting him slightly so he could open the door, Terry peered out into the hallway and saw the guards that were supposed to be stationed at the door were gone. It really did look like everyone was involved in this murder plot. There was no one else in sight, and so Terry ran down the hallway in the direction of the stairs. Heading down as fast as he could, he entered the boiler room, hoping no one would think to look for them there. He found an isolated corner near some shelves and laid Siren down, and took a seat beside him, keeping an eye on the door.

It was about an hour later when Terry heard the alarms go off, and he knew they were discovered missing. Gritting his teeth in frustration, he knew they weren’t going to be safe there for long. 

Sure enough, after only another hour, the door opened and two guards entered, carrying flashlights. Terry pulled out his Crackle Rod, and waited for them to get near. 

Without any warning, he smashed one of the men in the stomach as hard as he could with the rod and then tased the second man before he even had time to react. He then tased the other guard who had collapsed to the ground. Terry let out a breath of relief, and cursed, knowing they had to find a new hiding spot.

Scooping Siren into his arms, he headed for the door, and then peered out into the stairwell. Luckily there was no one there and so he continued his way downwards, now in the upper basement. Knowing how pretty much every patient hated and feared Siren, he knew hiding in a patient room was out of the question. He instead headed for the laundry room, hoping they’d finally be safe there. Terry snuck through the enormous laundry room, keeping out of sight of several custodians, ducking behind various bins of clothing and sheets. He carried Siren to the gigantic industrial washer and crawled behind it out of sight. Crouching uncomfortably in the tight space, he held Siren in his arms, not having anywhere to set him down.

Terry knew they couldn’t stay like this for long, and tried to think of somewhere they’d be safe. Somewhere he wouldn’t have to worry about being found while he slept. 

Terry looked down at Siren and frowned in worry. Siren would be completely helpless if he fell asleep and Terry seriously doubted he could stay awake for the next several days. He had no way to know when Vess would return, and the more tired he became, the less he’d be able to protect Siren. Dozens of people wanted him dead, and Terry knew eventually they’d be found. Cursing under his breath, he tried to think of somewhere they could go.

The roof? No, they’d both freeze to death within an hour. One of the seldom-used labs? No, the doctors would find them if they did a thorough search. His house down in the village? No, they’d probably think to search his home. Terry then knew somewhere no one else could get to them. The lower basement. Only a few people had access to the lower basement, and Terry felt confident no high-level clearance doctors were in on the murder plot. 

Terry then frowned, knowing the only way to get to the lower basement was through an elevator which required voice authentication. Terry did not have clearance, but Siren did. He stared down at Siren, and realized he was going to have to wake him up long enough to activate the elevator. He had no way of knowing what state Siren would wake up to, and knew he’d be in trouble if he was still disassociating. He considered all his options, and knew this was their best bet for surviving this ordeal. Terry knew he was probably making a big mistake, but he reached down and turned the dial on Siren’s sedatives, turning them off and leaving the saline to flush the drugs out of his system. Now all he had to do was wait.

Guards came into the room several times to search, but Terry stayed perfectly still in their cramped hiding spot, and luckily no one spotted them. Hoping it wasn’t going to take hours for Siren to come to, Terry checked him every few minutes, but he remained unresponsive. Brushing Siren’s messy hair out of his face, Terry checked Siren’s eyes, seeing he didn’t show any signs of waking.

Terry’s legs were starting to cramp from remaining in such a tight hiding spot, and he hoped he wouldn’t have to remain there much longer. Almost as if some malevolent deity had granted his request, there was a sudden screech of surprise. Startled, Terry looked up and saw a custodian was staring straight at them, broom in hand. Letting out a curse, Terry practically jumped out of the hiding spot and ran for the doors, knowing they didn’t have a lot of time. Sure enough only seconds later, he heard yelling from behind him, and he knew he was being pursued. 

There was suddenly the sounds of gunfire, and he felt a searing pain in his arm as a bullet grazed him. Realizing they were getting desperate, Terry knew they would kill them both without hesitation if they were caught. Glad Siren was so light, Terry sped up and was certain he’d never run so fast in his entire life. He spotted the elevator and slammed a hand to it, the door opening painfully slowly. Gunfire rained all around them and Terry felt another bullet graze his leg as he jumped into the elevator, the second the door opened enough. He tapped the close door button, and the door began closing really slowly.

As bullets rained down around them, Terry pressed themselves tightly against the side of the elevator, using his body to shield Siren. The doors closed and Terry grabbed one of Siren’s hands and pressed it to the reader, locking the elevator from use. He heard fists banging against the elevator door, and then there was gunfire. The metal of the door dented in the shape of the bullets, but luckily none of them could pierce. Terry sank to the floor in exhaustion, and he looked Siren over to make sure he wasn’t injured. Siren was unharmed and so he turned his attention to his own wounds. Luckily the bullets had just grazed him and didn’t cause any real damage, and so he sat there for a few minutes, just concentrating on catching his breath.

It was then that he heard the sound of tools being used on the elevator. Terry’s eyes widened, and he knew they were completely helpless in that elevator. He’d used Siren’s hand to lock the elevator and now no one besides Siren or another high clearance person could get the elevator to respond. Terry looked down at Siren and gave him a light shake.

“Siren?” he whispered, “Come on, now’s a good time to wake up.”

Siren remained asleep, and so Terry gave him a couple very light slaps on the cheek, trying to wake him. Siren squirmed a bit and Terry realized the sedatives were finally starting to wear off.

“Siren,” he said a bit louder, “Wake up, I need you to speak, come on, wake up!”

Siren didn’t react and Terry gave him a sharp shake. “Come on, you little shit, wake up!” he ordered, “Don’t you **dare** go back to sleep!”

Siren shifted in his arms, but his eyes remained closed. Terry shook him again, and then once again lightly slapped his face hard enough to sting but not cause any harm. Siren made a noise of protest, and so Terry kept shaking him.

Suddenly there were sparks above them as a blowtorch began to be used against the door. Terry shook Siren even harder, knowing they only had minutes before the doors opened. He kept slapping him sharply, feeling a bit bad over it, but knowing it was necessary. Siren let out another groan and then raised a hand to push Terry’s hand away from him.

“...stop,” Siren said in a small, tired voice.

Terry hit the lower basement button and immediately a voice spoke up.

“**Authorization Needed: Please place your hand on the terminal.**”

Terry took one of Siren’s hands and pressed it to the reader.

“**Welcome, Siren, please speak into the microphone for voice authentication.**” 

Terry kept quiet and then began poking, shaking, and slapping Siren, trying to get him to speak again.

“**Awaiting response.**”

Terry frowned, and shook Siren so hard the smaller man’s head lobbed violently, and this finally got a reaction.

“Fuck off, Numa...” Siren muttered, swinging out a hand to weakly push at him.

“**Voice authentication accepted.**”

The doors then began to open, and Terry tensed and made eye contact with the man who had pried it open. The man reached for Siren, and Terry quickly grabbed the man’s arm, and they began struggling for Siren. The elevator then gave a lurch, and began to descend and the man panicked as he realized he was about to lose his arm. Terry released him, and the man **just** managed to get his arm out of the way before the elevator lowered out of sight. Terry felt absolute relief, and let out a deep breath. They were safe.

“...Kevin?” Siren questioned in a confused voice.

Terry looked down and saw Siren’s eyes were open a crack.

“Everything will be alright,” Terry assured him, “They won’t get you.”

Siren blinked tiredly. “Who?”

Terry knew Siren would never remember any of this and so he responded. “Dr. Vess had to leave unexpectedly, and since you were unconscious, the rest of the compound tried to kill you.”

Siren blinked again, simply looking confused. “...oh.” He then paused for a moment. “Why?”

“Because you’re a miserable little shit,” Terry answered distractedly, as he adjusted him in his arms. “Go back to sleep.”

The elevator beeped and then the door opened to pure darkness and Siren immediately let out a whine of protest. “Noooo!” he begged, “Kevin, no!”

“Shh,” Terry scolded, stepping into the darkness as he fumbled for his flashlight.

Siren struggled weakly in his arms. “Please, no, no, no!” he protested, “Kevin, stop, please!”

“We have to hide down here,” Terry replied firmly, “Just go back to sleep.”

Turning his flashlight on, Terry grimaced at the sight of the disgusting lower basement. He’d never been down there before, and wasn’t quite sure what to expect. As he walked through the hallways, Siren clung to his shirt tightly, and Terry rolled his eyes. Honestly, what grown man was still scared of the dark? The sedatives were still in Siren’s system however, and after a minute or so, Siren’s grip loosened as he fell back asleep.

Terry wandered through the lower basement to find a good place to hide, and finally he found a room that was still pretty much intact. The room looked to be a lab of some sort, and when he entered, he was glad to see a medical cot in the corner of the room. Laying Siren down onto it, Terry let out another breath of relief. Now all they had to do was wait until Vess returned.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Otterman was in constant pain, and he drifted in and out of consciousness, not really comprehending much of what was happening around him. He remembered Moose Boy’s face several times when he briefly woke, and he remembered hearing his soft words, but there was so much pain and dizziness that he couldn’t stay awake for more than a few seconds. As the hours went on, he could stay awake a few seconds longer, and he always saw Moose Boy’s face every time he opened his eyes. The other man always seemed so happy when he woke, and Otterman couldn’t make sense of any of this. He was aware of being wrapped in blankets and held in his partner’s arms, but his mind couldn’t really comprehend this.

He had no concept of time, but eventually, Otterman felt himself regaining consciousness. He let out a low groan and shifted in bed, not wanting to wake up. His entire body was in agony, and he felt positively awful. Reaching for his pocket, he was a bit disconcerted when the bottle of pills weren’t there. 

[[Sven?]] Moose Boy whispered, [[Are you awake?]]

Otterman didn’t yet open his eyes, feeling too sick to respond. He felt a hand running through his hair and he shifted again, unable to find any relief from the pain. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but he figured he must have slept quite a long time in order for the painkillers to have worn off.

[[Sven?]] Moose Boy whispered again, [[Can you open your eyes for me?]]

Otterman leaned into Moose Boy’s touch, wondering why his partner sounded so concerned. He felt strangely exhausted, but the pain was keeping him awake.

[[Please, Sven, just open your eyes,]] Moose Boy begged, [[Please just look at me.]]

Confused, Otterman struggled to open his eyes, and the first thing he noticed were two concerned blue eyes directly in front of him. 

[[Oh thank god,]] Moose Boy sighed in relief, hugging him close. [[We had to give you another shot.]]

Otterman blinked heavily, his vision blurred and when he reached a hand up to his face, he found his glasses were missing. Shot? We? What was Moose Boy talking about?

[[Sven?]] Moose Boy questioned, tipping Otterman’s chin up so he could look in his eyes. [[How are you feeling?]]

Otterman didn’t answer, his mind too confused to organize his thoughts coherently. 

[[Sven, can you please answer me?]] Moose Boy asked, [[Can you speak?]]

“Hrnn,” Otterman responded, blinking in confusion.

“He seems to be coming out of it,” Dash stated from nearby, “He should be able to answer you soon.”

Otterman was confused. Why was Dash Haber here? Something wasn’t right, and he frowned, trying to put his thoughts together.

Moose Boy hugged Otterman close, who tried to squirm in protest, but Moose Boy refused to loosen his hold. Otterman fell back asleep for an hour or so, but once again it was the pain that woke him.

[[Henrik…]] Otterman complained.

[[Sven?]] Moose Boy questioned, [[How are you feeling?]]

Otterman groaned and opened his eyes. [[My back is hurting again. Where are my pills? I need a pill.]]

Otterman felt the other man tense up, Moose Boy’s expression turning to stone.

“_ Nej _,” Moose Boy replied.

Otterman looked up at him in confusion. [[No? What do you mean no?]] he questioned.

“** _Nej_ **.” Moose Boy repeated firmly. [[No more pills.]]

Otterman frowned. [[I told you I need one,]] he said, narrowing his eyes. [[Did you take them from me?]]

“_ Ja _,” Moose Boy responded unapologetically.

Otterman was still a bit disoriented, and was trying to comprehend this. [[Why?]]

Moose Boy stared down at him for a long moment. [[You lied to me, Sven. How many pills did you take earlier?]]

Otterman raised a hand to his head with a wince. [[Two.]]

Moose Boy’s expression hardened. [[Stop lying to me. How many?]]

Otterman had no idea what Moose Boy’s problem was and didn’t answer. To his shock, Moose Boy then gave him a sharp shake.

[[How many?]] he demanded, tone angry.

[[Henrik, what the hell-]]

Moose Boy shook him again.

[[**How many**?!]] he demanded again.

[[...s-seven,]] Otterman hesitantly answered.

Moose Boy’s expression turned furious as he realized Otterman must have been popping the pills all afternoon. [[You **lied** to me, Sven, and you lied right to my face! You almost died from taking too many pills!]]

Otterman’s eyes widened. [[What?]]

“You almost died!” Moose Boy repeated in English.

“What? No I didn’t! I’m fine!”

“He’s right,” Dash suddenly commented from the other side of the room, “You would have been dead within five minutes if it wasn’t for your partner.”

Otterman snapped his head around to face Dash, but his eyes were too bad to see him. “Where are my glasses?” he demanded, feeling around for them.

Moose Boy placed them into his hands, and he immediately put them, now able to see Dash laying in the other bed next to them.

“What the hell, Henrik?!” he yelled out, “Is this Team Crackle’s room?!”

“When I couldn’t wake you up, I knew I had to find help,” Moose Boy replied. 

“We were supposed to stay away from Team Crackle!” Otterman yelled, quickly getting mad. 

“How about if you be a little more grateful?” Dash snapped from where he lay, “You overdosed like an idiot, and he did what he needed to in order to save you. Those pills were incredibly high doses, and it clearly says on the bottle not to take more than **one**.”

Moose Boy scowled. “He took seven.”

Dash met Otterman’s gaze directly. “You are a **moron**,” he snapped, “How you even got accepted into V.I.L.E is beyond me. Do you have any idea how lucky you are?”

Otterman glanced between Dash and Moose Boy in disbelief. “I really almost died?” he asked.

Moose Boy nodded, his expression still furious. “You **lied** to me, Sven.”

Otterman flushed, and he averted his gaze. “...I knew you wouldn’t let me take one if you knew how many I had already taken…”

Moose Boy looked even more furious. “Of **course** I would have stopped you!” he snapped, “You almost died, Sven. How could you do this to me? Do you have **any** idea what that would have done to me if I’d come back to find you dead?”

Otterman grimaced. “I’m sorry, Henrik, I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“How could you be that selfish?” Moose Boy said, raising his voice. “You almost left me all alone! I’d be **lost** without you, Sven, but you never once thought of me, did you?”

Otterman closed his eyes, knowing it was true. He hadn’t thought of Moose Boy at all while taking the extra pills. All he’d thought of was getting rid of his pain and hiding it from his partner. “I’m sorry,” he said again, “You’re right. I’ll only take one pill from now on… Where are they?”

To his surprise, Moose Boy got up from the bed, expression so angry that Otterman actually felt a little afraid.

“I need to think for a while,” Moose Boy said, heading for the door. “Dash, keep an eye on him for me.”

He slammed the door closed as he left and Otterman simply stared at the door, getting a very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Dash was watching the whole thing in mild interest, and he let out a _ tsk _ sound as he adjusted himself more comfortably.

“What?” Otterman demanded with a frown.

“Every time someone says they need to think for a while, that means they’re planning on breaking up with you.”

Otterman’s eyes widened. “What?!”

“You just got dumped, idiot,” Dash replied, clearly not caring.

Otterman sat straight up, ignoring the excruciating pain this caused. “**What**?!”

“You’re an addict,” Dash stated, a touch of revulsion in his tone, “Why would he want to stay with you? Eventually you’re just going to end up dead.”

Otterman shook his head. “No, I’m not an addict,” he denied, “I’m just in pain.”

Dash stared at him for a moment as if considering this. “You’re going through withdrawal right now which is why you want a pill so badly. It’s the only thing you can think of, isn’t it?”

Otterman wanted to deny it, but he was craving the relief the pill would bring from his pain. “I’m in pain,” he insisted.

“Yes, because your body is becoming dependent on the drugs,” Dash replied, “I’ve seen this dozens of times before, and you’re only going to ruin Henrik’s life. Do you think he wants to spend every day worrying about when you’re going to overdose again?”

Otterman stared at the door worriedly. Would Moose Boy really leave him because of this? He certainly seemed angry enough. Was he addicted to the pills? He wanted to say no, but as his body ached, he had a feeling Dash was right.

“What can I do?” he asked in despair, “I need the pills to even move.”

Dash let out a snort. “No you don’t. The pain is from your addiction, not from your back injury. It’s been weeks since your surgery, and you should be able to function normally by now.” 

Otterman shook his head. “No, I’m still healing. I just need to take them until the pain is more manageable.” 

Dash leveled him with a look. “Then be prepared to be alone until the day you finally overdose and die,” he commented, “You will lose everything important to you, and it be will all just for a stupid pill.”

Otterman shook his head. “No.”

Dash narrowed his eyes. “Prove me wrong then,” Dash said. “Stop taking those damn pills. What means more to you; being pain-free or being with Henrik?”

Otterman struggled to his feet. “I have to go after him! I have to apologize!”

“Wait for him to come back,” Dash ordered, “Let him cool down.”

Otterman shook his head as he winced as he took a step towards the door. “No, I have to find him right away. I was stupid and I have to make sure he knows I’m not going to take any more of those pills.”

Dash knew there was no way he could stop him as Otterman opened the door to leave.

“You’re an idiot!” he called after him.

When Otterman was gone, Dash let out a deep sigh, hoping this was enough of a reality check to smarten the other man up. Addiction was a sore subject for Dash, and he hated it more than anything else. He knew how addicts thought, and knew Otterman was in for a rough time. Hopefully with Moose Boy at his side, he’d be strong enough to overcome it.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Mime Bomb awoke to the sound of Neal’s voice, and glanced over curiously, wondering who he was talking to. To his surprise, there was no one besides Neal in the room.

“No, love, you forgot the -1. Go through each line carefully to make sure you don’t forget to carry anything over.”

Mime Bomb was rather confused until he heard Player respond a few seconds later.

“Okay, got it, Neal! This was the last equation! Thanks for the help!”

“No problem, Tiny Tim,” Neal responded, giving a long and lazy stretch. “Always happy to help.”

Neal then glanced over and noticed Mime Bomb watching him. “_ Kia ora _, Mime Bomb,” he greeted, “Thank you again for what you did for me last night. I’ve never done well in isolation. Zack made coffee for you.” 

Mime Bomb simply gave him a nod and slipped out of bed, knowing he’d been out of his mime makeup for far too long. Approaching his dresser, he pulled out a change of clothes and then headed for the door, intent on taking a very long shower. Neal watched him go and then slowly got to his feet, testing his weight on his bad foot. Although it hurt, he knew he could use it if necessary.

Not wanting to reveal this just yet, Neal supported his weight on the wall and then began hobbling towards the door. It was still quite early and it seemed like the others were still asleep, likely exhausted from losing two days worth of sleep. He kept an eye out for any possible ways to escape, and as he edged his way up the hallway, he made note of the ventilation shafts that ran through the whole warehouse. He came to the kitchen and Zack looked up from the comic book he was reading.

“You shouldn’t be walking!” Zack scolded him, “You should have called for me!”

“I’m not stepping on the foot,” Neal assured him. 

Zack set down the comic. “I thought you were going to sleep for a while?”

Neal gave him a shrug and edged his way across the kitchen, making sure not to use his bad foot. “Couldn’t sleep and now I’m thirsty,” he lied, “Do you guys have any juice?”

Zack gave a shrug. “We need to get groceries so I’m honestly not sure. Help yourself to whatever you want though.”

Neal gave a glance around the kitchen as he did so, his gaze coming to rest on a display of kitchen knives. Neal then opened the fridge door and seized the jug of orange juice. Screwing off the cap, he lifted it up to drink straight from the jug and Zack frowned over at him.

“Ivy smacks me every time she catches me doing that, so you should probably get a glass.”

“Wouldn’t want to anger the scary ginger,” Neal agreed, approaching to grab a glass out of the cupboard.

Zack turned back to his comic, and Neal slipped a knife up his sleeve as he poured the juice into a glass. He then leaned against the counter as he sipped it, wanting to make sure Zack didn’t suspect anything.

“Mime Bomb awake yet?” Zack asked.

“Yeah, I think he went to take a shower,” Neal replied staring at the vent in the kitchen.

“Good, I was worried his coffee was going to get old.”

Neal finished the juice, put his empty glass in the sink and then hobbled over to put the jug back in the fridge.

“Did you say you have a Switch?” Neal questioned.

Zack nodded. “It’s in the living room,” he told him, “Don’t accidentally erase Sheena’s game-file or she will murder you on sight. Just ask Mime Bomb if you don’t believe me.”

Neal smirked at the thought of messing with Sheena, but he had no intentions of actually using the Switch. Zack didn’t even turn to watch him leave, and Neal carefully made his way down the hall, staring at the air duct and following it all the way to the living room. The living room was empty and as he continued following the duct, he realized it led outside. Bingo. There was a vent just a couple feet above the couch and so he made his way over, and stepped up onto the couch. Staring into the vent, he knew he could easily fit and it didn’t seem to be locked down like the rest of the base.

Neal gave another glance around and then pulled the knife out of his sleeve. Using the blade, began unscrewing the bolts holding it in place.When he got three of them removed, he suddenly heard a voice.

“Neal...what are you doing?”

Neal gave a quick glance up at the camera that was watching him intently. “Sorry, kiddo,” Neal responded, unscrewing the final bolt as fast as he could.

“Neal, stop!” Player ordered, “Stop that!”

When Neal didn’t stop, Player activated the red alert and the alarm began sounding throughout the base. Neal ripped the vent cover off, and just as everyone poured into the room, he dove into the vent. Someone grabbed him by the ankle and Neal silently cursed, wishing he had his slick suit. He kicked out, landing a solid hit to Ivy’s shoulder, and struggled to pull himself all the way into the ventilation shaft. The kick only caused Ivy to become infuriated, and with one mighty tug, she yanked him out of the vent, causing him to fall into the coffee table below hard. It shattered below him and he didn’t dare move, glass around him on all sides. He looked up into the furious faces of Ivy, Tigress, El Topo and Le Chèvre and a few seconds later a confused Zack burst into the room.

“Aw, Neal, what did you do?” he said with a sigh, “Did you just try to escape?”

Neal was still staying very still, and he gave him a sheepish smile. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“We most certainly can!” Ivy retorted angrily.

Le Chèvre stared into the vent with a frown. “This is a security issue,” he stated, “We’ll need to block this off so we don’t have a repeated escape attempt.”

“Are you hurt, Neal?” Antonio asked in concern, carefully helping Neal out of the glass.

“No, I’m fine,” Neal replied after checking himself over. “Can’t say the same about your coffee table though…”

Since Neal wasn’t injured, he took a seat on the couch having a feeling things were about to get a lot worse for him.

“I have some sheet metal we can use to block off these vents,” Ivy told them, “I’ll just need to go grab my tools out of the workshop and I’ll need a few people to help me hold it in place as I weld.”

“What about Neal?” Antonio asked with a frown.

“Stick him in the basement,” Tigress said with a shrug.

“You can’t!” Zack protested, instantly standing in front of Neal.

“Not forever, you dweeb, just for like an hour until we fix the vents.”

Zack relaxed. “Oh, well, that’s not too bad,” he replied, glancing down at Neal. “I’m going to have to tell Mime Bomb though.”

Zack hurried from the room, and Antonio helped Neal back to his feet. “Sorry, Neal, but you have left us with no choice. Stop making things difficult, and just cooperate.”

Neal rolled his eyes, feeling sullen over being sent to the basement again. The others followed along behind them just in case he tried anything, but Neal didn’t give Antonio a hard time. He was made to sit down on the ratty mattress, and his eyes immediately fell on the dreaded chain.

“No, we won’t chain you again, _ mi amigo _,” Antonio assured him, “There’s no way to escape down here. I promise we’ll be as fast as we can and then you can come back up.”

Neal was still sulking and didn’t answer. He watched as they left, and then immediately got to his feet to look around the basement. When chained, he hadn’t been able to see the entire basement, and so he carefully limped his way around, looking for anything at all that caught his interest. The tiny windows were too narrow for even him to squeeze through and the air vents were too high off the ground to reach. If he didn’t have an injured leg, he would have tried to climb up, but there was no way he could do it with a bad ankle.

Neal instead limped from place to place, looking for anything he could use in his escape. He slipped the knife back out of his sleeve and stared down at it. He immediately shook his head. No, he wasn’t going to stab anyone. Team Red weren’t going to hurt him, and so he wasn’t going to kill anybody. Neal let out a sigh, and then his eyes fell on something. Approaching the far corner of the basement, he saw a bit of metal on the floor. Pushing aside some dusty boxes, he saw it was an ancient drainage vent leading down into the sewers. Neal grimaced, but this wasn’t the first time he’d had to crawl around in a sewer. The vent was small though, too small for him to normally fit through. Using the knife, he pried it open and then stared at the small opening thoughtfully. He was going to have to get creative.

“Neal?!” came Player’s frustrated voice, “Are you serious?! You can’t possibly fit down that hole!”

Neal let out a snort. Clearly Team Red didn’t know why he was so infamous among his peers. Gritting his teeth, Neal slammed his shoulder against the wall, dislocating it.

“**Neal**!” Played called out in alarm.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he then slammed his other shoulder against the wall, dislocating that one as well. The alarm was once again going off upstairs, and Neal sat down and stuck his legs into the hole, just as the basement door opened. Twisting his hips into an unnatural position, he got his hips down and then released all the air out of his lungs. Just as everyone made it to the bottom of the stairs, Neal twisted and bent his ribs until he was able to squeeze through, and his dislocated arms easily bent so he could get all the way down.

“Ew, oh my god!” Tigress commented as she saw him disappear down the hole.

They rushed over and looked down the hole, but Neal was already gone, crawling his way through the pipes.

“How did he fit through that little hole?!” Zack asked in awe.

Mime Bomb, who was now back in full mime make-up, was not impressed at all, unable to believe they left Neal unattended in the basement. He knew very well Neal was a contortionist and thought the others would have been aware of this as well. Neal was well known for being an escape artist.

“...**I’m** not going in after him,” Tigress commented.

“Where do these pipes lead?” Le Chèvre asked with a frown.

“Checking that now,” Player responded.

“Not cool, Neal!” Zack bellowed into the hole.

“_ Haere Ra _!” Neal called back in a mocking tone.

“What the hell does **that** mean?” Tigress demanded, crossing her arms.

“Kiwi slang for goodbye,” Player replied, “It looks like the pipes lead into the main sewer system, and so there’s no real way of knowing where he’ll exit.”

“Soooo, we lost him,” Ivy stated.

“Looks that way,” Player answered.

“Great,” Le Chèvre grumbled, “Who’s going to be the one to tell the others?”

“Not it!” Zack and Ivy chimed at the same time.

Tigress heaved a sigh and then turned away. “I’m going back to bed.”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The moment Neal reached the main sewer, he slammed his shoulders into the walls to knock them back into their sockets and then hurried through the disgusting sludge, just wanting to find his way out of there as fast as possible. It was incredibly dark and Neal held his hands over his nose as he walked, looking for any sign of light. He could hear rustling near him, and hoped he wasn’t about to be devoured by a crocodile or whatever it was Americans tended to have in their sewers. He walked for a couple minutes in silence and then paused. Alligators, it was **alligators** that were supposed to be in American sewers.

He continued walking, realizing that since he was in his bare feet, he had a very high chance of cutting himself on something sharp and then dying from sepsis. Hoping he didn’t find a needle or piece of glass, he began stepping very, very gently and when he finally saw light in the distance, he let out a breath of relief. It was a storm drain and Neal peered out and saw a street in front of him. 

Not caring what people thought of him, he lifted himself up and squeezed himself through the narrow gap, hearing a little girl scream as he twisted himself out of the sewer like some sort of swamp thing. He glanced over and saw the girl standing right beside the storm drain, both hands clapped to her mouth as she screamed and screamed. Her mother seemed equally shocked, and Neal gave them a salute.

“_ Kia ora, _” he greeted in a friendly tone.

Without another word, he turned and ran off into the crowd before the police could be called on him. His foot was in absolute agony, but he ignored it, knowing that as long as he didn’t rest it he could keep walking on it for a while. Barefoot and dressed in wet and disgusting pajamas, Neal was aware he was gaining a lot of stares, but ignored them as he walked in the direction of the motel. 

He wasn’t too far from the motel and he realized the Team Red base must actually be pretty close by. He glanced around at the buildings around him and knew it could be any one of these buildings. Speeding up, he hoped they wouldn’t be able to find him. 

Neal was barely paying attention to his surroundings, but when he saw someone trip over a garbage can, smash into a wall, and then faceplant into the ground, it certainly caught his interest. He paused and stared down at the man, and wondered how anyone could possibly be that clumsy. His eyes widened when he recognized the man.

“Otterman?!” he said kneeling down beside him.

Otterman looked up, and squinted at him. “Neal?” he questioned, “Oh, great, that’s **all** I need right now.”

Neal raised a brow and then got up to leave. “See ya then, jerk.”

“Wait, wait!” Otterman called after him, “Please help me!”

Neal paused and then knelt back down. “Why are you in San Diego? Aren’t you supposed to be recovering from a bullet wound?”

“Help me find my glasses,” Otterman ordered, “They came off when I tripped.”

Neal dutifully handed over the glasses, and Otterman put them back on, now at least able to see Neal a little more clearly. “...what in the world are you covered in?” he demanded.

“...long story,” Neal said evasively, “What happened to you? Did you lose your emotional support moose?”

Otterman seemed to crumble right before him, and the smaller man covered his face with both hands, knowing he probably **had** lost Moose Boy. Neal was alarmed at the sudden change in him, hoping something terrible hadn’t happened to Moose Boy.

“Oh, _ mihi, _ Sven, I shouldn’t have teased you,” Neal said in concern, “What happened?”

Otterman was so ashamed of himself that he couldn’t even answer, simply shaking his head silently.

Neal gently took him by the arm and coaxed Otterman over to a nearby bench. Taking a seat beside him, he feared the worst when Otterman wouldn’t so much as look at him.

“Come on, Sven, tell me what happened,” Neal said gently, “Did something happen to Henrik? Is he hurt?”

Otterman shook his head.

“Did he...did he die?” Neal hesitantly asked.

To his relief, Otterman shook his head again. Although Neal absolutely loved to tease Otterman, he honestly did like Otterman and Moose Boy as people, even if he believed they were the worst operatives to have ever worked for V.I.L.E. They were roommates during training and since they were some of the oldest operatives, they’d been on quite a few missions together.

“Come on, tell me what happened,” Neal coaxed, “Let me help.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” Otterman responded miserably, “I messed everything up.”

“That’s nothing unusual, love,” Neal said, trying to lighten the mood. “You always push through though.”

Otterman hunched in on himself in shame. “Henrik will never forgive me.”

Neal now realized that this was a completely different sort of conversation. “Nonsense,” he assured him, “You two have been partners for like 15 years. Whatever you did, he’ll forgive you.”

Otterman shook his head. “No, I really screwed up.”

“You cheated on him?” Neal guessed.

Otterman shot him a glare. “We’re not a couple!” he snapped, “He’s just my partner!”

Neal rolled his eyes. “Right.”

Otterman let out an aggravated sigh, but it was half-hearted. Neal gave him a nudge with his elbow.

“Come on, love, spill it.”

“I overdosed on pain pills last night,” Otterman admitted, once again hiding his face in shame. “If it wasn’t for Henrik and Dash Haber, I would have died.”

Neal’s expression turned incredibly somber. “Did...did you do it purpose?” he asked hesitantly.

“No, of course not!” Otterman snapped, “I was in a lot of pain and took too many pills. I didn’t even realize I had overdosed and just went to sleep. I didn’t even know what had happened until they explained it to me.”

Neal realized he had missed out on a lot during his three days in captivity. “How did Dash get involved in all this?”

“When Henrik couldn’t wake me up, he ran me to your team’s motel room to get help. Dash helped him save me.”

Otterman drew his knees up to his chest and simply sat there, covering his face with his hands, and Neal considered his response carefully.

“Why do you think Henrik is mad at you? It was an accident.”

Otterman didn’t answer and so Neal nudged him again.

“I lied to him,” Otterman admitted.

“Oh?” Neal prompted.

“I...I lied to him about how many pills I’ve been taking. I’ve been increasing the number I’ve been taking but I lied to him and told him I was only taking one. When I overdosed I took seven, but told him I took one. He was so mad at me. I’ve never seen Henrik so mad. He walked out on me.”

Neal realized how serious this was, and wrapped an arm around Otterman’s shoulder, offering a bit of support.

“You stink,” Otterman commented, but didn’t push him away.

“What did Henrik say when he left?” Neal questioned, certain there was no way Moose Boy would have broken up with Otterman, especially not after a near fatal accident.

“He was furious and when he stormed out he said he needed some time to think.”

“Yeah, and? You know how literal Henrik is, he probably really means he just wants to think for a while. I think you’re reading too much into that.”

Otterman shook his head. “Dash said that means he’s left me and that no one wants to be with an addict.”

“Sven, Dash is a bitch. You can’t take anything he says to heart. I’ve never heard him say anything nice about **anybody**. Don’t pay him any attention, okay?”

Neal saw Moose Boy lumbering his way down the sidewalk and waved at him. Moose Boy seemed surprised to see Neal, and then his gaze fell on his distraught partner. Neal held up a finger to his lips signaling to remain quiet, and Moose Boy seemed confused but nodded all the same.

“No, I **know** Henrik has left me!” Otterman said, still hiding his face from view. “I’m a liar and an addict. Why **would** he stay with me?”

“Well, what would you say to him if you could?” Neal asked, grinning wide.

“I’d tell him how sorry I am for lying to him, and how sorry I am for being selfish and not thinking about how my actions would affect him. I’d tell him how sorry I am for always being so irritable, and that I’m sorry for being such a bad boyfr-er partner. I’m **never** taking any of those pills ever again.”

Otterman suddenly let out a yelp of surprise when he was pulled into a bone crushing hug from Moose Boy.

[[Oh, Sven!]] Moose Boy said sadly, [[I’d never leave you! I just had to think about what to do next! I wanted to think of how I could help you! I’m sorry if I scared you!]]

[[No, no!]] Otterman insisted, [[I messed up so badly, Henrik, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I put you through this, and I'm sorry for lying to you. I’ll be better, I promise! Throw the pills away, I don’t need them. You’re all I need!]]

Moose Boy gave him a wide and dopey-looking smile. [[You’re all I need too, Sven. We’ll get through this together.]]

Otterman hugged him tightly. [[I love you.]]

[[I love you too.]]

Neal was watching the whole interaction with a cheeky smirk. “I don’t speak Swedish, but that sure seemed pretty gay to me,” he commented, “But you’re just ‘partners’, right?”

Otterman leaned around Moose Boy to give him a glare. “We’re just partners,” he confirmed.

“Well in that case,” Neal said, grinning wide, [[I love you too, Sven,]] he said in Swedish.

Otterman sputtered indignantly for a moment, while Moose Boy just looked confused.

“I thought you didn’t know Swedish?” Moose Boy asked.

“Oh, I don’t,” Neal confirmed, “Since you’re just ‘partners’ I’m sure what I said was completely not romantic at all.”

Otterman looked like he’d sucked a lemon. “You are an idiot, Neal.”

“What are you two doing out here?” Moose Boy asked.

“Me? I just crawled out of a sewer. I can’t speak for Sven though.”

Otterman wrinkled his nose and didn’t doubt his words at all. “I was looking for **you**,” he told Moose Boy, “I was worried you weren’t going to come back.”

Moose Boy ran a hand through his hair affectionately. “I’ll always come back. How about if we get you back to the motel now, so you can rest?”

Otterman nodded, and got to his feet. Moose Boy glanced at Neal who was filthy, barefoot, and in his pajamas.

“Are you okay, Neal?”

“Er...don’t suppose you’d be willing to help me, would you?” Neal asked. “I injured my leg and I don’t think I can walk on it for much longer.”

“Of course I’ll help you!” Moose Boy announced, “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Sure, we are,” Neal confirmed, reaching out an arm so he could be helped to his feet.

To his shock, Moose Boy scooped him into his arms bridal style. 

“Er...this works too,” Neal stated in amusement.

“You need a bath,” Moose Boy commented, wrinkling his nose.

“Yeah, I do,” Neal confirmed with a laugh, “I have **not** had a good few days.”

Otterman held onto Moose Boy’s arm as they walked, in a lot of pain but not willing to mention it. He knew he was in for hell as his body went through withdrawal, and hoped he’d be strong enough to get through it. Looking up at Moose Boy’s face, he knew he’d have to find the strength. He refused to ever allow something like this to happen again.

When they got back to the motel, Neal insisted he be set down, able to hold onto the wall to keep most of his weight off his bad foot. Moose Boy and Otterman entered the room, and Dash looked up at them from his bed, noting that both seemed to be a lot calmer now. When Neal walked through the open door, Dash stared at him in surprise for a moment before he noted that the other man was covered in greenish brown muck, and absolutely reeked like sewage. His expression instantly turned to one of complete revulsion and he narrowed his eyes at him.

When Neal saw the look, he let out a laugh. “Wow, what a look, Dashie! I missed you too!”

“Ugh,” Dash commented, “What the **hell** are you covered in, you smell like dumpster slime!”

“I had to escape through a sewer,” Neal replied with a shrug.

Dash immediately jerked upright, and then stared at him in complete horror. “Get out of this room, right **now**!” he ordered in a panic, “You’re disgusting!”

“Sorry, Fancy, but I’m taking a shower whether you want me in here or not,” Neal stated, limping his way into the room.

“No, get out!” Dash ordered, clapping a hand over his nose.

“What?” Neal asked, throwing his arms open wide. “I couldn’t quite hear you. You said you want a hug?”

Dash let out a sound similar to a cat that had its tail stepped on, and reached for the nearby lamp. Lifting it over his head threateningly, he narrowed his eyes. 

“Come near me, and I’ll bash your greasy head in!”

Neal simply grinned at him. “Ah, Dash, I missed all of our pleasant conversations so much.”

As Neal knelt down to get a clean set of clothes, he frowned at his bag. “Who messed with my stuff?” he demanded, “Everything’s all mixed up!”

No one noticed the way Otterman winced and quickly averted his gaze.

“No one touched your greasy belongings,” Dash replied, still not lowering the lamp. 

Neal was about to respond when his eyes fell on the cat sitting in Dash’s lap. “What’s with the cat?” he asked.

Dash glanced down at the cat. “This is Steve,” he replied.

Neal raised a brow. “Steve?”

“Yeah, we assumed you were dead and replaced you with a more competent operative,” Dash replied with a shrug. “Steve has already proven himself more valuable to the team, and so you need to leave.”

Neal rolled his eyes. “Where is everyone?”

“Crackle’s in the hospital, but I spoke with him about an hour ago and they’ll be back soon.”

Neal nodded, and knew that after his shower, he’d have to get caught up on everything he’d missed.

“You guys sticking around?” he asked as Otterman took a seat on one of the beds.

“Yes,” Moose Boy said firmly, “I might need help with Sven.”

Otterman looked incredibly embarrassed and said nothing.

“Mean as,” Neal replied, “I’m always up for company.”

Without another word, Neal entered the bathroom to take a **very** long shower.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The city of Nur-Sultan (formerly Astana), Kazakhstan was a beautiful and modern looking city, and as the plane descended, Carmen and the others gathered at the windows to take a look. The building that was immediately eye-catching was of course the Bayterek Tower. It was surrounded in an almost a birdcage-like structure of metal that wrapped itself around the tower and a large golden ball was held at the tower’s very top.

There were dozens of sleek and new-looking skyscrapers made of metal and glass, and the city looked bright and clean. Everywhere they looked, they could see unusually shaped buildings and structures, and off in the distance they could just make out the sight of the absolutely enormous Hazrat Sultan Mosque.

As the plane landed and began slowing down, Carmen turned to look at her three teammates. “It’s beautiful,” she commented.

“Alright Red, your rental car should be waiting for you right outside the plane,” Player announced as their plane began to slow down to a stop on the tarmac. 

“Any sign of V.I.L.E activity?” Carmen asked, gathering her equipment together.

“There’s a privately-owned jet that is due to land five minutes from now. The timing is a bit suspicious, and I’m willing to bet that V.I.L.E are coming to collect MJ before he gets himself arrested. If you hurry, you should be able to beat them to the warehouse.”

Carmen nodded. “Okay, gotcha, Player. No time to take in the sights.”

The plane finally came to a full stop, and Carmen headed for the door, Chase, Julia and Shadowsan following behind her. Not waiting for the pilot to do it for them, Carmen opened the door and then waited as the airstairs lowered. As they descended the stairs, they saw a bright red sports car waiting for them.

“A bit flashy, no?” Chase commented in disapproval.

“It is rather...bright.” Julia agreed.

“Oh, come on, guys,” Player responded, “Red is kinda our thing. Our cars are allllways red.”

Chase rolled his eyes, but didn’t make any further comments, simply heading for the car and getting in the driver’s seat.

“Okay, I guess Chase is driving,” Carmen said in amusement, “Let’s go.”

Once the four of them were settled in the car, Chase turned on the ignition and then headed for the gate. As they drove along in silence, they were amazed at how clean the city looked, and they didn’t see a single bit of graffiti on anything. There didn’t seem to be a lot of people on the streets, and it didn’t take them long to enter the city.

Carmen was studying the GPS as Chase drove along, and she could see a few possible ways to escape if things got bad. They had no way of knowing what V.I.L.E had in that warehouse, and Carmen didn’t want to be surprised.

“The warehouse is coming up on the left,” Carmen stated a few minutes later, leaning up from the backseat. “Pull over into that mall parking lot and we can walk the rest of the way. I don’t want them to see us approaching. Once we apprehend Michael Jr., whoever the driver is can bring the car to collect us.”

Chase gave her a nod and turned into the parking lot without a word. After he parked, he turned around to face the others.

“Who’s going to stay with the car?” he demanded, “I’m **not** getting left behind; I’m going with you.”

The four of them exchanged a look, and Julia quickly realized everyone had turned their gazes to her. She frowned, but knew it made more sense for her to remain behind than any of the others. Although Chase was brash and impulsive, he was also a fighter, and he would be able to offer Carmen the backup she would need in this mission. Shadowsan was Chase’s complete opposite and was calm and cautious, and he would be able to balance the other man out.

“I’ll stay with the car,” she told them, “Call me if you need backup.”

Chase met her gaze, and she could see the concern lurking in his eyes. He didn’t say anything, but he reached over, gave her shoulder a squeeze and then got out of the car. They kept a close eye on their surroundings and made their way towards the warehouse. The warehouse once used to be a potato chip factory, but according to Player’s research it had been closed for years before V.I.L.E bought it.

Once the factory came within sight, they hid and simply observed the building, trying to spot guards or anyone from V.I.L.E nearby. The building was large, and seemed to be in pretty rough shape, but Carmen knew this was done just for appearances. V.I.L.E tended to remodel the inside of their buildings but leave the outside looking terrible so they wouldn’t attract attention.

Carmen eyed the boarded up windows, and the two doors on the front of the building. It was clear V.I.L.E didn’t want any surprise visitors, and so they’d need to find a way inside using the front door, which was incredibly dangerous. Player had studied the blueprints he’d stolen off the V.I.L.E server, and there was no other way in or out of the building. Carmen knew there was likely a secret escape tunnel, but they would have no way to find that if they didn't know where to look. They’d have no choice but to go for the door.

“I’m going to circle the building Shadowsan told her, “Keep watch and tell me if anything happens.”

Carmen gave him a nod as she put a pair of binoculars to her eyes to watch the front of the building.

“What are we waiting for?” Chase demanded, impatiently, “Let’s go before our target escapes!”

“Patience, Chase,” Carmen scolded, “We don’t know what’s waiting for us inside that building. It could be a trap, or there could be armed guards just out of sight.”

Chase wasn’t used to being patient, and let out a sigh, giving a stretch in preparation for a possible fight. Carmen glanced at him out of the corner of her eyes, recognizing the stretches as ones she’d been taught herself by Coach Brunt.

“Did you used to fight?” she asked in interest.

“I used to box semi-professionally,” Chase replied, cracking his knuckles. “I did it for years right up until...the incident.”

Carmen gave him a sad look, knowing Chase needed the closure that taking down Volkov would bring. That was if Volkov even existed anymore...

Carmen had seen countless times how fearless Chase was, and she was honestly worried about him. He constantly threw himself headlong into danger without hesitation, and he had almost gotten himself killed in a dozen different ways in the short time she’d known him. He always had a slight defeated air about him, and Carmen suspected he’d been struggling with depression for quite some time. He had been doing better since joining their team, but she could still see the deep despair that lurked within his eyes. Someday he was going to get hurt if Carmen didn’t keep an eye on him.

Since learning more about Volkov the night before, Chase seemed to have been given a bit of hope, and Carmen hoped they’d be able to track down the people responsible for the brutal murder. Perhaps if he finally got justice, he’d finally begin to heal and move on from the terrible ordeal.

“Isn’t that your doctor friend?” Chase demanded, pointing towards the building.

Carmen glanced over, and sure enough she could see a black car had pulled up in front of the factory and Dr. Vess had just exited the drivers side. She could see the fury on his face and had a feeling he didn’t want to be here.

Carmen smiled, glad to at least see one familiar face here. Dr. Vess was a dedicated doctor and even if he didn’t agree with what V.I.L.E was doing, he would always do his best to treat the patient anyway. By his obvious anger, it was clear he despised Michael Jr., but had been forced to come tend to the boy’s bullet wound. Carmen had a feeling she would be able to convince him to let her into the building if he knew the full scope of what Michael Jr. was responsible for. Dr. Vess wasn’t a thief, he wasn’t an operative, he was just a doctor who happened to be employed by V.I.L.E. She’d known him for most of her life, and knew she could trust him not to report seeing her.

“We just found our way in,” Carmen told Chase, “Come on.”

As Vess removed a couple bags out of the trunk of the car, Carmen stepped out of her hiding spot. Her bright red coat catching his attention, he glanced up, and then froze at the sight of her. He dropped the bags to the ground, and Carmen waved a hand in greeting.

“Dr. Vess!” she greeted with a smile. “Hello!”

Vess gave her a wary look. “...hello,” he responded.

Carmen jogged towards him, and Vess simply stared at her, clearly not trusting her.

“Don’t worry,” she assured him, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Vess seemed a bit skeptical, raising a brow in question.

“I know they forced you to come here, and I know you don’t agree with any of this,” Carmen said, coming to a stop just in front of him. “You’re a good and kind man, and I’ve seen the compassion you show your patients. Michael Jr. is the worst type of person, and you have no idea of the atrocities he’s committed.”

Vess frowned at her thoughtfully. “Oh? What has he done?” he asked. 

“He’s a murderer and a sociopath,” she informed him, “He tortured Mime Bomb for three days straight and nearly killed him. He worked with his father to steal money from orphans and because of this hundreds of children starved to death.”

Vess blinked at her. “I have a job to do,” he responded, placing his thumbs into his belt with a frown.

“You don’t **have** to work for V.I.L.E.,” Carmen said, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. “I’ve always cared about you, Vess, and I know you feel the same way about me. You were so kind to me as a child, and I don’t want to be your enemy. Come with us, and you can finally escape V.I.L.E. You can join our family, and you’ll never have to worry about any of this ever again.”

Vess seemed genuinely surprised, and he simply stared at her for a long moment. Carmen gave his arm a gentle squeeze, and offered him a kind smile.

“I know you care about me, Vess.”

Dr. Vess stared down at her in silence for a moment, and then he finally replied. “I think you’re holding yourself in far too much esteem, Black Sheep. I care about you as much as I care about a fly in a window. Irritating but of little importance in my life.”

It was then that Carmen felt the cold metal of a gun placed against her chest. 

“Vess…?”

His eyes were as cold as ice, and just as his finger began pressing the trigger, he was shoved into the wall hard from behind. The gun went off and Carmen felt an explosion of pain in her abdomen. Gasping in surprise, she clutching at her stomach, her shirt quickly becoming soaked in blood. She fell to the ground and gasped in shock. Shadowsan was kneeling at her side in an instant as Chase punched Vess hard in the gut. Vess hit the ground hard, and he turned the gun on Chase who dodged to the side just as the trigger was pulled. The bullet caught him in the leg, and Chase let out a sharp cry, as he fell. 

Turning away from Carmen for just a moment, Shadowsan lashed out at the fallen doctor, and smashed the back of his head against the wall hard. Vess went limp and the gun fell out of his hand, and Shadowsan quickly turned back to Carmen. Seeing the heavy bleeding, Shadowsan knew the wound was serious, and they needed to get her to a hospital. 

Raising a hand up to his ear, he pressed his com. “Julia, get here now. Carmen and Chase have been shot and we need to get them to the hospital.”

Shadowsan gave a look of absolute loathing at Vess. If they took the time to secure Vess and capture Michael Jr., Carmen could bleed out. They had no choice but to leave the second their car got there. V.I.L.E was going to win this round…

Chase was clutching at his leg, and he stumbled over to them worriedly. “Carmen?” he questioned.

Carmen didn’t answer, her eyes now barely open. Shadowsan had a hand pressed to her wound, and he looked up when there was a screech of tires. Julia jumped out of the car, and she ran to Chase first, then turned to Carmen when she saw Chase’s injury wasn’t life-threatening. She didn’t miss the dark look Shadowsan sent her way, but she pretended not to notice.

“What happened?” she demanded, helping Shadowsan carefully lift Carmen into the backseat of the car. 

“She put her trust in the wrong person,” Shadowsan responded, crawling into the car with Carmen.

Chase limped his way to the car, and Julia reached out to help him, but he waved her off. As he got in the passenger seat, Julia glanced at the unconscious doctor.

“What about **him**?” she asked.

“We have to leave him,” Shadowsan responded, “Hurry!”

Julia gave one more glance to Vess and then got in the car and sped away in the direction of the nearest hospital.

Ten minutes later, Vess let out a low groan and opened his eyes, wincing at the horrible pain in his skull. Raising a hand to his head, his fingers came away red, and he let out an angry curse. Glancing around, he saw he was alone, the only evidence Carmen had been there was the red stain on the sidewalk. Still holding a hand to his head, Vess picked up his gun and placed it back in the holster hidden under his coat.

Getting to his feet, he glared at the red stain, hoping she died. That would be one less thorn in his side if she did. Now in an even more foul mood than he was before, he turned his attention to the front door of the factory. This whole mess was because one stupid kid decided to brag on social media about his crimes. He had almost ruined **everything**.

Vess clenched his fists in absolute fury, and then reached down to pick up his fallen medical bags. Making his way towards the doors, he felt his anger only getting stronger the more he thought about it. Swiping his hand across the reader, the door buzzed open for him and he entered. Walking down a long hallway, he heard the sound of laughter and followed it, narrowing his eyes into slits of raw fury. When he entered the room, he saw Michael Jr. and another boy the same age sitting on top of tables, eating some sort of takeout food. 

Michael looked up in surprise, and then his face lit up at the sight of Vess.

“Oh, hey!” he greeted with a wide grin, “I didn’t know you were coming! You here about the gunshot? I already pried the bullet out with my pocket knife, so I’m all good now.”

“Who’s **this** asshole?” the other boy demanded.

“That’s Vess, Dustin, I told you about him,” Michael said impatiently. 

“Oh...**him**,” Dustin replied, quickly losing interest.

Vess gently set down the two medical bags on one of the tables, and then began removing his bloody coat.

“Geez, what happened to **you**?” Michael asked, taking a bite of food. “We got kuurdak if you want some. It’s a bit weird, but okay.”

Vess then opened one of his bags and removed something. Turning around, they could see a surgical scalpel in his hand.

“Uhhh…what’s **that** for?” Dustin asked uncertainly.

“Shut up, Dustin,” Michael responded, not even bothering to look up from his food.

Vess then unholstered his gun and started heading for Michael Jr., his expression thunderous. Without so much as a glance, Vess raised the gun and fired a bullet directly into Dustin’s forehead, the boy falling dead to the floor, fork still in his hand. Michael stared at the body with wide eyes, his mouth dropping open in surprise. 

“What the **hell**!” he yelled in outrage, “That was my friend!”

Vess holstered the gun, and then descended on Michael in absolute fury. Without a single word, Vess raised his hand and slapped Michael straight across the face hard enough to almost cause the boy to fall off the table. Before Michael even had time to recover, Vess grabbed him by the front of the shirt and yanked him in close, placing the scalpel to his throat.

“Do you have **any** idea what you did?!” he hissed out, pressing the scalpel a bit harder to the delicate skin of the throat.

Michael’s expression froze into a grimace and he stared up at Vess with wary eyes, barely daring to breathe.

“Of **course** you don’t know what you did, because you’re a **moron** !” Vess snarled. “A complete, and utter childish **moron**!”

“Um, w-”

“**Silence**.” Vess warned, pressing a little harder on the scalpel.

Michael winced as a single drop of blood dripped from his neck, and he quickly fell silent.

“You announced to the whole world where you were hiding, and then you **admitted** to your crimes! On **INSTAGRAM** !” Vess snarled, eyes glaring daggers into the boy. “You led Carmen Sandiego straight to yourself, and if it wasn’t for **me** you would’ve been back in jail before nightfall! You jeopardized **everything**!”

Michael’s eyes widened in realization, and he stared up at Vess in horror. He now realized the scope of how badly he had messed up.

“Give me **one** good reason I shouldn’t slit your stupid throat right here and now!” Vess hissed, his grip tightening on the front of the boy’s shirt.

“I-I’m sorry!” Michael gasped out, wincing as the movement caused his neck to be cut even deeper.

“If you ever, and I mean **ever** do something like this again, I won’t hesitate to slit your throat from ear to ear, do you understand me?”

Michael’s eyes widened even further.

“**Do you understand me**?” Vess snarled.

“Um... uh huh,” Michael hesitantly replied, “I understand, never again.”

Vess narrowed his eyes at him skeptically and didn’t remove the scalpel.

“I’m sorry, Numa!” Michael insisted, “I didn’t mean to, I swear! I’ll delete my Instagram account!”

“You will delete **all** of your social media accounts and never post anything **ever **again.” Vess said with finality.

“What?! **All** of them!” Michael cried out in protest.

“**All. Of. Them**.” Vess said, tone taking on a dangerous edge.

“Okay, okay, fine!” Michael agreed, “I’m sorry!”

Vess took a very deep breath, and stared at Michael as if trying to sense any deceit. “This is your only chance,” he warned.

“I promise!” Michael swore.

Vess gave him a nod, and finally his expression softened. Without another word, he leaned down and captured the boy’s lips with his own. Michael relaxed as the scalpel stopped cutting, and responded to the kiss eagerly. When Vess pulled away, he stared down at Michael with an exasperated look.

“Tell me again why I like you?”

Michael gave a shrug. “Fucked if I know, Numa,” he responded.

“Don’t get yourself arrested, you little shit, because I don’t want to have to rescue you again,” Vess scolded.

“You left me there for a whole month!” Michael whined.

“Just be glad I had you rescued at all,” Vess responded, going in for another kiss. “You repugnant little thug.”

Michael smirked into the kiss. “You killed Dustin, you asshole. I **liked** having a henchman!”

Vess rolled his eyes. “I’ll get you a new Dustin,” he stated.

Michael laughed and then looked up at him. “Show me how much you missed me.”

Vess gave him a smirk of his own, the scalpel falling to the floor.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX **

**(** This was a joke from Little Rascals and so credit goes to the creators for this joke. It just seemed liked EXACTLY something that Moose Boy would say and so I snuck it in haha)**

**All credit for these gorgeous pics goes to these wonderful artists!**

**Violetfic is responsible for the 3 pics of Dr. Vess and Michael Jr., and also the pick of Carmen being shot. (Dr. Vesalius is owned by Violetfic , and I am using him with her permission.)**

**Coulrosaurus is responsible for the OtterMoose pic and the bitchy Dash pic.**

**If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!**

**Credit for the names of Otterman and Moose Boy go to Animedemon01**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**

**Please don't forget to let me know what you think!**

**Next chapter will be posted within 2 weeks**


	20. The Transplant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone!
> 
> Big stuff is going to start happening in Broken. Things are about to get shaken up for everyone in the story! Muha haha haha! >:) The next chapter will be in a week, no later than March. 17th.
> 
> An enormous thank you to the very awesome Violetfic for being my beta and offering VERY good suggestions to help improve this chapter. She wrote a scene for this chapter, and it's fantastic! She is responsible for writing the airport scene. :)
> 
> Please note that Dr. Vess and Michael Jr. both use the F-word extremely frequently in their everyday speech. You have been warned.
> 
> If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 20**

**The Transplant**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The red sport’s car screeched to a halt in front of the hospital, gaining the attention of everyone nearby. Before the car was even placed into park, Shadowsan jumped out of the car with Carmen in his arms and ran for the doors to the emergency department. Without so much as a backward glance at Chase and Julia, he burst into the hospital, and ran for the triage nurse. 

Upon seeing the older man carrying the bleeding girl, the nurse immediately ran for a gurney, and then paged for the doctor. Shadowsan laid Carmen down on the gurney, and the nurse placed a gloved hand over the wound, doing her best to stem the bleeding as two other nurses ran to assist.

As Carmen was wheeled into the emergency department at a run, Shadowsan followed behind them worriedly. 

“What happened?” the doctor demanded as she quickly approached.

“She was shot,” Shadowsan quickly explained, “She’s lost a lot of blood.”

The doctor lifted Carmen’s shirt, and barely had to glance at the wound before ordering Carmen to be taken to surgery. By the doctor’s grave expression, Shadowsan knew the injury was serious, and he could only stand there helplessly as Carmen disappeared out of his sight. Shadowsan stood there, his shirt drenched in blood, and he forced himself to take a deep breath to calm himself. It would do Carmen no good if he wasn’t in his right mind, and he had to trust the doctors to save her.

Chase was wheeled past Shadowsan a few moments later, his leg still bleeding heavily, and Julia hovering by his side. Chase was fully conscious, and he gave the other man a worried look as he passed, but he didn’t say anything, in too much pain to speak.

As Chase was also wheeled into the surgery department, Julia stood next to Shadowsan, simply staring worriedly at the door. She clasped her hands, hoping both of her teammates were going to be fine.

“They’ll be okay, I’m sure of it,” she whispered to Shadowsan, resting a hand on his arm.

Shadowsan gave Julia a severe look, remembering how she had run to Chase before Carmen after the shooting. Julia had made her choice in that moment, and it was obvious who she valued more. She had chosen Chase over Carmen. She had no idea in that moment who was injured more, and so her choice told Shadowsan everything. He had no doubt that she would always choose Chase, and this deeply angered him. His look darkened, and he jerked his arm out of her hold, moving to stand closer to the doors of the surgery department.

Julia didn’t notice the anger, her gaze focused intently on the door as she wrung her hands nervously.

“What’s going on?” Player’s voice suddenly spoke up, “I’m showing your location at the hospital! Did something happen?!”

“Carmen and Chase were both shot,” Julia replied quietly, “Chase was hit in the leg, but Carmen was hit in the abdomen. She was just taken into surgery.”

“Oh my god!” Player exclaimed in horror. “I only left for five minutes! Was it an ambush?!”

Julia stepped away from the crowded waiting room. “I don’t know all the details since I was with the car, but it was Dr. Vesalius who shot them. We had no choice but to leave without apprehending him, or Michael Jr.”

“What can I do to help?” Player demanded, tone growing serious, “Just tell me what to do!”

Julia glanced around to make sure no one could hear her, and then she replied. “Can you fake her paperwork so the hospital doesn’t get suspicious? Maybe leave notes on their files about there being some sort of accident nearby resulting in their injuries? We really don’t need the police to get involved in all of this.”

“Sure thing, Jules,” Player replied, “I’ll make sure they don’t question anything about this. I’ll make it seem like Carmen is the daughter of a rich diplomat, so they’ll do everything in their power to save her.”

“Thank you, Player,” Julia said, hoping everything would turn out all right.

When Player once again went radio-silent, Julia went back to wait with Shadowsan. He had heard everything through his com, and so she didn’t have to repeat anything to him. He avoided looking at her, and all they could was wait.

After only an hour, a doctor came out and approached them, and they were both immediately on edge.

“You’re the family of Chad Devins?” he questioned.

Shadowsan seemed to deflate a bit, but Julia hurriedly nodded. 

“Yes, how is he?” she demanded.

“His surgery went extremely well, and he’s expected to make a full recovery.”

Julia let out a deep breath of relief.

“Luckily for him, there was minimal damage to the muscles in his leg, and so he should be able to walk within a day or so, as long as he takes it easy.”

“Can we see him?” 

The doctor shook his head. “He’ll be under observation for the next thirty minutes, but you should be able to sit with him once he’s transferred to a room.”

“And what about Carmen?” Shadowsan demanded, “How is my daughter?”

“Carlita Santano? She’s still in surgery, and it’s far too early to say as of yet,” he replied.

“What can you tell us?” Shadowsan asked, desperate for any sort of good news.

“She’s already had three blood transfusions, and is bleeding heavily internally,” he answered sympathetically. “The surgeon is trying to find out the extent of the damage, but as of right now, it looks like her liver is perforated.”

“Will she live?” Shadowsan demanded.

“I’m sorry, but it’s too early to say. I promise we’ll keep you informed, but I need to return to my patients.”

As the doctor left, Shadowsan grew even more agitated, and he began pacing the waiting room, his hands clenched into fists. 

“I just told the rest of the team what happened,” Player suddenly informed them, “I arranged a private jet and they’re on their way here. I hired the fastest jet I could find.”

“Thank you, Player,” Julia responded, “I know Carmen and Chase will appreciate them being here.”

“I heard what the doctor said…” Player said a bit hesitantly, “I know Carmen will be fine; she just has to be fine!”

“Carmen will live.” Shadowsan said fiercely, “She’s stubborn and incredibly strong.”

“I have complete faith in her.” Player said solemnly.

“You’re a good friend, Player,” Julia told him. “Thank you for everything you do,”

“You’re all my family,” Player answered, “I’ll do everything I can for you guys. Always.”

“Carmen cares about you too,” Julia stated quietly.

“I’m going to keep working on these hospital files, but I’m listening if you need me,” Player told them.

Julia took a seat near the window, but Shadowsan kept pacing, keeping his eyes on the door the entire time. After another two hours, a doctor finally came out, but by his grave expression, they knew it wasn’t good.

“You’re the young girl’s family?” the doctor questioned, looking down at his chart. “Carlita Santano?”

“I am her father,” Shadowsan instantly replied, “How is she?”

“The bullet pierced her liver, and she lost a lot of blood. We did everything we could, but I’m sorry to say we’re not able to save the liver. She’s going to require a liver transplant.”

“When will the liver arrive?” Shadowsan asked, getting a very bad feeling.

“There’s a long waiting list for liver transplants, and even if we push her ahead on the list, it will still take too long to arrive. She only has hours to live if we can’t get a liver.”

“Then...what can we do?” Julia asked.

“Does she have any family we can check for a compatible liver?” the doctor asked, staring at Shadowsan expectantly.

Shadowsan grimaced, knowing the chances of any of them being a match was slim to none. “No blood relatives since she’s adopted, but our whole family would be willing to get tested.”

“Just because you’re not blood related doesn’t mean the liver won’t be a match, but it makes rejection a larger possibility,” the doctor explained, “Ideally we prefer to use siblings or cousins, but in this case we have no choice. If the two of you are willing, we’ll test your compatibility right now.”

“Of course,” Shadowsan said immediately.

Julia nodded her consent as well.

“Perfect, please come with me,” the doctor directed, “Hopefully one of you will be a match.”

They followed after the doctor without hesitation.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

“You’re **certain**?” Dr. Bellum asked in surprise.

Vess gave her a nod. “Completely,” he assured her confidently, “I shot Carmen Sandiego.”

The faculty stared at him in shock, unable to believe the doctor did what so many others had failed to do. Dr. Vess just happened to be in the right place at the right time, and he may have killed V.I.L.E largest obstacle.

“You don’t know if the shot was fatal?” Maelstrom asked with a frown.

Vess shook his head. “Not for sure,” he replied, “I was aiming for her heart when I was attacked by Shadowsan. My shot missed and hit her in the abdomen instead. I was a bit distracted with Shadowsan and so I’m not certain whether the shot was fatal. She lost a lot of blood however, and it’s likely I hit her liver or intestines.”

Just for a moment, a brief look of pain crossed Coach Brunt’s face, but she quickly masked the look almost as quickly as it had appeared.

Dr. Bellum drummed her fingers on the table thoughtfully, and she stared at Vess as if considering something. “We don’t have any operatives in Kazakhstan to confirm her death,” she stated with a frown, “I’m not willing to risk your life by sending you to find her.”

“He’s just a doctor,” Countess Cleo said derisively, “We have dozens of others.”

Vess clenched his hands into fists furiously, but he said nothing. 

“No!” Dr. Bellum snapped at Cleo, “He is my favourite doctor, and I need him for my experiments!”

Cleo rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Saira, you get way too attached to the people working for you. Dr. Vesalius can defend himself fine. Send him to confirm.”

“No,” Professor Maelstrom cut in, surprising her. “The doctor must return to his lab as soon as possible. There has been an incident.”

Roundabout leaned forward across the table. “Oh? What sort of incident?”

Bellum and Maelstrom turned to stare at him, and for just a few seconds, Roundabout felt like his worth was being assessed. Maelstrom then rolled his eyes, and turned back towards Vess.

“Your lab partner was sedated, correct?”

Dr. Vess frowned at the mention of Siren and he nodded. “Yes, there was an accident I was dealing with before I got called away,” he replied evasively, glancing at Roundabout out of the corner of his eye.

“What kind of accident?” Roundabout demanded. “I never heard about any accident.”

Vess narrowed his eyes at him, but kept his tone respectful as he replied. “Lab accidents happen all the time, and they normally aren’t the sort of thing I bother the head faculty with.”

Roundabout scratched his chin with a frown. “But yet both Professor Maelstrom **and** Dr. Bellum were made aware of it?”

“Dr. Bellum is my boss,” Vess replied with a shrug, “I report most things to her. As to who she chooses to share that information with is none of my business.”

Roundabout narrowed his eyes. “What was the accident?”

“Do you really care?” Cleo asked, wrinkling her nose. 

“All that science stuff is for nerds,” Coach Brunt commented, “No offense, Bellum,”

“None taken,” she replied with a shrug, “I am indeed a ‘nerd’. I’m not ashamed of my intelligence.”

“Yes, I **do** want to know,” Roundabout insisted, “What exactly is happening in Dr. Vesalius’ lab?”

Vess glanced to Dr. Bellum, clearly curious what she was going to respond with.

“Oh, he’s just working on the usual stuff,” Dr. Bellum answered with a dismissive wave of her hand, “Creating vaccines, creating viruses, advancing the mind-wipe technology. Nothing too interesting.”

Roundabout glanced between Dr. Bellum and Maelstrom and didn’t miss the look they exchanged between themselves. Yes, these two were **definitely** hiding something.

What was the accident?” he asked, certain it was somehow important.

It was Professor Maelstrom who spoke up this time. “Dr. Vesalius’ lab partner cracked under the pressure of hard work, and he had a breakdown. I was tasked with evaluating his mental well-being. Nothing too unusual for scientists under tight deadlines.”

“And you mentioned he was sedated?” Roundabout asked, knowing there was more to this than they were saying.

“Yes, I had no choice but to sedate him for his own safety,” Vess answered. “He has been overworking himself and not getting enough sleep, and so I sedated him so he would be able to recover.”

Roundabout didn’t believe Vess for an instant, and he gave him a scrutinizing look. There was something decidedly off about the doctor, and Roundabout didn’t trust him in the slightest. If they were hiding something from the rest of the faculty, that meant whatever Dr. Vess was up to, was something **so** terrible that Bellum and Maelstrom were trying to hide it. What could possibly be worse than viruses and mind control? 

Dash Haber had mentioned that Crackle’s mind had been experimented on, and Roundabout felt like this was somehow connected. **Everything** seemed to be connected. At first he’d been angry that Otterman and Moose Boy had given themselves away to Team Crackle, but now he realized this may have been for the better. They were now in the perfect position to learn what was going on. Why would Dr. Bellum damage Crackle’s mind in such a way if he was one of her favourite operatives? Did he learn something he wasn’t supposed to? This was getting stranger and stranger.

“We will have to wait to confirm Carmen Sandiego’s death,” Coach Brunt commented. “If she’s dead, then we shouldn’t have any more issues when it comes to missions.”

“I vote we just wait and see,” Cleo commented.

“I think Team Crackle should verify this,” Maelstrom stated with a frown. 

“It may take her a while to recover, depending on where the bullet hit her,” Vess pointed out. 

Dr. Bellum nodded her agreement. “I will leave them in San Diego for the time being,” she stated, “If there’s no sign of her within a few weeks, we’ll disband Team Crackle and pull them out of San Diego.”

“Agreed.” Maelstrom said, steepling his fingers together. “We have no choice but to wait for now.”

“I still think we should use the doctor,” Coach Brunt said, “But I’ll go along with your plan.”

Roundabout really wanted to question them more on this lab of Dr. Vesalius’, but didn't want to draw too much suspicion towards himself. Roundabout was a smart and extremely cautious man, and **this** was how he had survived as a criminal for so long. He never took unnecessary risks, and he always made sure his every move was carefully calculated. He would wait for now, and simply observe, and hope he’d soon get more information from Team Crackle. If the team was disbanded, he might never find out what was going on. He needed to delay Team Crackle from disbanding for as long as possible.

“I agree as well,” he said, surprising the others. “Waiting is all we can do for now. Team Crackle should continue patrolling and keeping an eye on things in San Diego.”

Cleo rolled her eyes, not really caring. “Fine, whatever, but I want my hench model back. His replacement is absolutely **abysmal** , and I’m sick of dealing with it. Imagine trying to suggest that **I** , Countess Cleo, wear **polyester** ! Can you believe the **nerve**?! It took every bit of my self-control not to throw him to Brunt’s dogs!”

Coach Brunt gave her an unimpressed look. “Polyester? Oh no, the horror…” she responded sarcastically.

“I know!” Cleo announced, not picking up on the sarcasm. “At least Dash Haber is a **little** more competent. Why he wanted to be a field operative is beyond me.”

“Fine, fine, whatever!” Dr. Bellum said impatiently. “Take your pretty model back, but the rest of Team Crackle stays put for now.”

Everyone nodded their agreements, and Dr. Bellum disconnected the cable from her tablet, and Dr. Vess disappeared off the large viewing screen, the call now exclusively on her tablet.

“Now, Dr. Vesalius, there was something important I needed to discuss with you in regards to your lab partner.”

Dr. Vess raised a brow. “What is it? Something terrible happened, didn’t it?” he asked with resignation.

Dr. Bellum left the faculty room as she nodded. “Well, it looks like the guard-dog you left to protect our resident little songbird has turned on him.”

Dr. Vess was taken by surprise. “What?!”

“I’ve received reports that Siren’s guard has turned on him, and he was stopped from killing him by a doctor. The guard then overpowered the doctor, and ran off with Siren. When the other guards tried to come to Siren’s rescue, they were shot at, and Siren’s guard escaped into the lower basement with him. He’s planning on dismembering Siren, and the guards are doing everything they can to get to them, but they can’t get to the lower basement.”

Dr. Vess heaved a furious sigh, and then swore. Something **always** had to go wrong. Why was it that nothing could **ever** go right for him?

“Terrence has been nothing but loyal to V.I.L.E,” he commented angrily, “This is highly unusual.”

“Deal with this, Numa,” Dr. Bellum ordered, “We **cannot** allow Siren to be killed,”

Vess knew the chances of Siren still being alive at this point were highly unlikely. V.I.L.E had lost their most valuable operative and there was nothing he could do about it. In an instant, Vess had lost everything he had worked for. He had no choice but to hope by some miracle Siren was still alive. 

“I’m leaving now,” Vess assured Dr. Bellum.

“Our fastest jet will meet you at the airport,” she replied.

Once she had disconnected the call, Vess let out an angry curse. If a single hair on Siren’s head was damaged, he would tear that guard limb from limb. That guard would experience the worst death of any human in history. Vess scowled at his com, not realizing his every move was being watched.

Michael Jr. gave a long, lazy stretch and then reached for the nearby take-out box. Taking a bite of the now cold food, he watched Vess as the man paced the room while on the phone. His expression was furious, and Michael hoped this anger wasn’t soon going to be directed at him. Raising a hand to his throat, he winced when his fingers found the tiny cut Vess had left there with the scalpel. Normally when Vess hurt him, he always made sure to clean and treat the wound afterwards, but this time he hadn’t. The call had distracted him, and he’d left Michael to deal with his injury himself.

Michael glared at the phone, wondering what could possibly be that important. Whatever it was, it was making Vess angrier by the second, and Michael watched in mild alarm as Vess swore at whoever he was speaking with. A few moments later, Vess ended the call and then raised a hand to his face in frustration.

“What?” Michael questioned.

“We have to leave **immediately**,” Vess replied, heading over to gather his belongings together.

Michael took another bite of his food. “Why?”

“Because I said so,” Vess snapped impatiently.

Michael chewed for a moment before answering. “Okay...but...**why**?”

Vess glanced over at him with an impatient look. “The guard I left in charge of Siren went rogue and kidnapped him. Apparently, he’s threatening to kill Siren, and the other guards trapped him down in the lower basement. They can’t get to him, and there’s no one else on site with clearance to go down after them.”

“Oh,” Michael responded, quickly losing interest. “Just let him kill the little goblin.”

“Go get ready to leave,” Vess snapped at him, “And Siren is too important to my research to **ever** allow to be harmed. He’s more valuable than every person in that lab combined.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “What makes **him** so special?” he demanded, “Isn’t he like retarded or something?”

Vess shot him an annoyed look. “The term you’re looking for is intellectually disabled, Michael, and no, Siren has a few cognitive impairments, but his intelligence is fully intact.”

“I hate that little asshole,” Michael complained, “Why do you need **him**, when you have a whole lab full of nerds?”

Vess picked up his bloodstained coat and frowned down at it before tossing it into the nearby garbage can.

“Siren is the only person who knows the lost Volkov research. He has an eidetic memory, and so somewhere rattling around in that mind of his is the information I need. Whatever those people did to him buried his memories so deep that I haven’t been able to access them yet. I’ve been making progress, and hopefully soon Siren will be able to remember the information.”

Michael let out a snort. “I bet the little asshole has known it all along.”

“Go get ready to leave,” Vess ordered, flashing him a glare. “I won’t tell you again.”

“I **am** ready,” Michael responded, “I don’t have anything to bring. It’s not like I brought a suitcase from prison.”

Vess narrowed his eyes for a moment, but didn’t comment. Instead, he approached Dustin’s dead body and knelt down beside it to search it. He pulled a cell phone out of the boy’s pocket, and then turned to Michael

“Is this what was used to record your video?”

When Michael nodded, Vess dropped the phone to the ground and stomped on it as hard as he could.

“Can’t you use one of the original test subjects to get the information you need? Like, I saw something on tv once where they figured out how something worked by taking it apart.”

“Reverse engineering,” Vess replied as he turned away. “If you ever paid attention to **anything** I tell you, you’d know that there **are** no test subjects left. Absolutely everyone in the original lab died in the fire except for Siren. He’s the only thing I have.”

Michael seemed a bit puzzled. “No, there’s a test subject still alive. I assumed you knew since he was in V.I.L.E…”

Vess turned around to face him so fast, Michael jumped in surprise.

“What?” Vess demanded, “What do you mean by that?”

Michael set his take-out aside and slipped off the table to approach him. “There’s a test subject still alive,” he repeated, “I met him.”

Vess was instantly skeptical. “And what made you come to the conclusion he was a Volkov test subject?” he demanded.

Michael scratched the back of his head for a moment before he responded. “He has the silver markings in his eyes - the ones you told me about.”

Vess was standing in front of Michael almost instantly. “How do you know these were the markings I told you about?”

“I tortured that asshole for three days straight, and so I got a **very** close look at those eyes. I didn’t notice right away because his eyes were blue, but when I was about to gouge one out, I saw the silver starburst, just like the ones you described.”

Vess seized Michael by the sides of the face and stared straight at him, trying to detect any hint of deception. Although Michael looked a bit startled, there were no signs of deception at all.

“You’re **sure**?” Vess demanded, his tone firm.

Michael shifted a bit uncomfortably, but he didn’t dare pull away. “Uh, yeah,” he replied. 

“Describe to me what the silver starburst looked like,” Vess ordered.

“Erm, I dunno, that was months ago…”

Vess gave him a hard shake. “Think, Michael, **think**!”

“Okay, okay, geez.”

Michael thought back to when he’d first discovered the markings. He’d been slicing the clown’s chest with a knife, reveling in the tears he caused, when he’d decided to step up his game. Pinning the smaller boy beneath him, he brought the knife to one of the eyes, and he remembered the pure terror that had haunted those blue eyes. That’s when Michael noticed there was something strange about the clown’s eyes. Leaning in closely, he stared into the eyes, not quite understanding what he was seeing. When he realized what the starburst was, Michael had pulled back in surprise, knowing he couldn’t kill him.

“The silver starburst was only on the left side of each iris,” Michael said, his gaze distant as he struggled to remember. “It looked silver from the front, but when I looked at it from the side, it was like gasoline and looked kinda purple or blue. It was hard to see because his eyes were so blue.”

Vess had never told Michael these details before, and knew that the boy was correct. One of the experiments had survived. Vess hadn’t heard of the Finnegans torturing any operatives, and had no idea who it could be.

“Which operative was it?” he demanded.

Michael gave a shrug. “I have no idea, the stubborn asshole wouldn’t talk to me, even when I began peeling skin away.”

“What did he look like?”

“Skinny, red hair, blue eyes.”

Vess tried to think of an operative who matched that description. “How old did he look?”

Michael shrugged again. “My age, I guess?”

Vess stepped back as he went through all the red-haired operatives he could think of.

“Oh, and he was dressed as one of those French clowns - the black and white striped ones.”

Vess instantly knew who it was. “And you didn’t think to start by telling me the operative was a **mime**?!” Vess snapped at him.

Michael shrugged for a third time, and Vess thought back to all the interactions he’d had with Mime Bomb, which weren’t many. The boy had been a shy and anxious mess during training, and Vess had never put much thought into him. He now cursed himself for not paying closer attention, and couldn’t believe one of the experiments had been so close to him all this time. Mime Bomb was the last surviving piece of Volkov’s work, and now he was out of V.I.L.E’s reach. Now it all made sense why Team Red had worked so hard to protect the mime. They must have known about Volkov, and realized who Mime Bomb was.

Vess scowled, having no idea how he could get his hands on Mime Bomb. Team Red weren’t likely to give him up, and he had no real plan as of yet. No matter the consequences, he **needed** to get his hands on that mime. 

“Why didn’t you tell me any of this sooner?” Vess demanded angrily, “You’ve known this for months and only **now** mentioned it?”

Michael winced, and backed up a step just in case Vess tried to slap him. “I forgot about it until I saw the mime again when they attacked my father’s base. I meant to tell you, but then got arrested, and well...yeah. Sorry.”

Vess heaved a sigh and rested a hand on Michael’s shoulder. “We’ll have to figure this out later,” he commented, “Team Sandiego is in Kazakhstan and they know where we are. Let’s get to the airport, and return to Russia, deal with the Siren issue, and then come up with a plan.”

“Leave Team Traitor to me, Numa!” Michael said, puffing out his chest heroically. “I’ll kill them all and bring you Carmen Sandiego’s head on a pike!”

Michael raised his fists and lashed out as if hitting imaginary foes and Vess raised a single eyebrow in a mixture of exasperation and impatience. He placed a gentle hand on Michael’s arm but the boy was clearly getting worked up over the thought of fighting.

“I’ll tear them limb from limb with my bare hands!” he vowed.

“Calm down, Michael,” Vess ordered, with a sigh, “You’re **not** fighting Team Red.”

Michael paused and glanced up at him. “Well, I’d fight them for you without hesitation if you asked me to.”

“I know you would,” Vess told him, leaning down to give him a quick kiss.

Vess then pulled a face and frowned at his partner. “Your breath tastes like onion,” he commented, “Eat a breath mint or something, it’s gross.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Always such a romantic, Numa.”

Taking Michael by the elbow, Vess motioned towards the door. “Come on, we need to go.”

“What about Dustin?”

“Who?”

“The guy you shot in the head?”

“Oh, **him**. Forget about him. V.I.L.E will send someone to clean up this mess shortly.”

Michael gave a shrug, glanced down at Dustin one last time, and then followed after Vess without a word. They headed for the door and a few moments later, they were in the car on the way to the airport.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Shadowsan sat head in hand, never feeling more helpless in his life. Carmen was dying and there was nothing he could do about it. Neither he nor Julia were matches for an organ donation, and Carmen was barely holding on. The rest of Team Red were on their way to Kazakhstan, but he worried they wouldn’t make it in time. Even though they had a large team of people to test once they arrived, the doctors weren’t confident in finding a match. Carmen had blood type O- which was fairly uncommon, and she needed to find someone who not only had the same blood type, but also who matched the tissue type. Carmen had no living blood relatives and so the chances of a match were slim to none. Player had gotten in contact with several shady people in the hope of obtaining a liver, but so far they hadn’t been able to find a match.

The doctors were keeping Carmen in surgery in the hopes of getting a liver shortly, but Carmen was getting worse and worse. Within hours, she would succumb to her injuries, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Shadowsan clenched his hands into fists, and closed his eyes in frustration. He still remembered the first time he had held Carmen in his arms, the tiny baby staring up at him with tear-filled blue eyes. He had stared into those large and frightened eyes, and knew there was no way he was leaving her behind. Looking down at that small baby had made him feel something he never had before, and he knew he would do everything in his power to protect her for the rest of his life.

Carmen had always been a smart little girl, but always too trusting. She blindly gave her trust to everyone around her, and he had scolded her for it many times as she grew, but it was something that seemed to be ingrained in her very nature. He knew she was too trusting, and had failed to protect her. He had failed her.

Shadowsan clenched his fists so tightly, his nails cut into his palms.

He had watched Carmen grow up, and he had loved her straight from the start. He’d had to be stern and a bit distant with her, but he had enjoyed watching her grow up. He remembered the hundreds of times he’d told her stories, and helped her practice her stealth skills, and he missed those days. Carmen was no longer a child, and she had placed her trust in the wrong person. Shadowsan hadn’t been fast enough to reach her before the trigger had been pulled.

Dr. Vesalius was a dead man if Shadowsan ever got his hands on him. He would make that man pay for what he did, and Shadowsan didn’t care if he had to take down all of V.I.L.E in order to do it. Vess was going down.

He felt a gentle hand placed on his arm, and he glanced up to see Julia’s concerned face. She didn’t say anything, but she gave his arm a light squeeze, offering her silent support for what he was going through. They were seated by Chase’s bedside, but the other man hadn’t woken up yet. It had taken a lot of Julia’s skills of persuasion for them to even be allowed in there, and the private room was a lot more comfortable than the crowded waiting room.

The doctors had been in to see them several times to provide updates on Carmen’s condition, and Shadowsan dreaded each time the door opened, always knowing it was bad news. He had a feeling that it was only a matter of time for the door to open with the news Carmen had died on the operating table. Shadowsan wasn’t prepared for that to happen, and honestly had no idea what his reaction to it would be.

“_ Hrnghhh _.”

Shadowsan glanced over at Chase, as Julia stood and approached the bed. Chase shifted a bit, but his eyes remained closed.

“Chase?” Julia said softly. “Can you hear me?”

“_ Urrgh _.”

Chase’s eyes cracked open, and they immediately focused on Julia. “Yu Yan?” he whispered out in longing, reaching for her.

Julia placed a hand on his shoulder, knowing he was confused from the anesthesia. She gave him a sad frown and shook her head.

“No, Chase, it’s Julia.”

Chase stared at her face for a long moment, and then he grimaced, raising a hand to his head. 

“Julia...right...sorry.”

Julia offered him a smile. “It’s okay, Chase.”

“How is Carmen?” he asked, glancing around.

“She...she’s not good,” Julia admitted, “She needs a transplant, but they can’t get a liver fast enough to save her. Shadowsan and I weren’t matches, and the rest of team are on their way to get tested as well.”

Chase lowered his hand from his face. “Did you test me?” he questioned.

“They had to wait for you to wake before they could test you,” she replied.

“Test me,” Chase ordered tiredly, “Take whatever she needs from me.”

Shadowsan didn’t need to be told twice and pressed the nurse-call button. Within seconds a nurse entered the room, and when she saw Chase was awake, she hurried to his side.

“Do you need help, Sir?” she asked with a thick accent.

“Test me to see if my liver is a match for Carmen,” he ordered.

“The young girl in surgery?” she questioned.

Chase nodded. “Take my liver,”

The nurse gave him a nod. “I’ll inform the doctor and we’ll test your blood.”

She hurried from the room without another word, and Chase sat up, still a bit dizzy from the anesthetic. 

“Why can’t they get a matching liver?” he asked. 

“Carmen is an uncommon blood type and only a donation from another O- can be used,” Julia explained, “Do you know your blood type?”

Chase shook his head. 

Shadowsan began pacing, his normally stoic expression agitated. “What is taking them so long to get here?!”

“She only left a minute ago,” Julia pointed out kindly, “Give her a few minutes.”

Shadowsan stared at the door with a scowl. “I am going to see where the doctor is!”

He barely even took a step when the nurse returned, carrying a basket with the supplies for drawing blood. Shadowsan watched her like a hawk as she approached Chase and began getting the disinfectant ready.

Chase held out his arm without hesitation, and the nurse tied off his arm with a band and then swabbed his arm. Chase watched as she drew several vials of blood, and once she had it, she passed the blood to her assistant who practically ran from the room. She swabbed the spot and then placed a bandage on his arm.

“We should find out very shortly if you’re a match,” she informed Chase, “Don’t eat or drink anything in case we need to take you back into surgery.”

Chase gave her a nod, and she hurriedly headed for the door, obviously planning on catching up with her assistant.

“The jet lands in two hours,” Player informed them, “I’m still trying to find a liver close by, but I’m not having any luck so far.”

“Keep trying,” Shadowsan ordered.

Player hesitated a moment before responding. “I’ll do my best, I promise. Carmen’s my best friend. If my blood type wasn’t AB, I would have offered to donate.”

“We know you would have,” Julia assured him, “You’re a good friend, and we appreciate you. Please just be careful dealing with these people.”

“I always am,” Player assured her, “I’ll check back in soon.”

Julia then turned her attention back to Chase, realizing they hadn’t even asked how he was. “How is your leg?” she asked him in concern.

“Numb,” Chase responded, “Do they have me on painkillers?”

Julia’s gaze went to his IV and then she nodded. “Morphine.”

Chase nodded. “How is my leg?” he asked.

“The bullet didn’t hit any bone, and luckily the muscle damage is minimal,” Julia replied. “You’ll be able to walk on it within a day or so if you’re careful.”

“Have you seen Carmen?”

Julia shook her head. “They won’t let us see her since they’re keeping her in surgery in the hopes of a liver donation.”

Chase averted his gaze, having a feeling things were a lot worse than Julia was letting on. If Carmen was still in surgery then she was dying as they speak while she waited for the liver. 

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence and Chase watched Shadowsan pace as they waited for the blood results to come back. The minutes seemed to drag by like years, and when the door finally opened, they looked up hopefully at the doctor who entered. His face was grim however, and he shook his head.

“I’m sorry, but you weren’t a match,” he stated, “We just had to do another blood transfusion on her, but she’s deteriorating fast. If we can’t locate a donor soon, we won’t be able to save her. I’m so sorry.”

“The rest of our family will be here in an hour,” Shadowsan responded, his expression quickly becoming desperate. “Hopefully there will be a match!”

The doctor looked away and Shadowsan didn’t miss the way the man grimaced. “She...she may not last another hour,” he told them hesitantly, “You need to prepare yourself for the worst. We’re doing everything we can, but she’s getting weaker and weaker…”

No one was expecting Shadowsan to suddenly grab the doctor by the front of his shirt and shove him hard against the wall. They stared in shock as Shadowsan pinned him to the wall, his expression absolutely devastated.

“You will keep her alive, do you hear me? She **will** make it until we get her a liver!”

“I’m sorry,” the doctor said, “I wish I had better news for you. We will do everything we can to keep her alive.”

The doctor didn’t struggle against him, his gaze pitying and before Shadowsan could say anything else, Julia gently pulled him away from the other man.

“No, this won’t help!” she scolded.

Shadowsan knew she was right, but he felt so helpless, and it was infuriating. He had trained nearly his entire life to survive and to fight, but nothing had ever prepared him for this. Julia pulled him back to his chair and he allowed it, all fight leaving him as his anger was replaced by despair. 

“Shadowsan, we just have to trust the doctors,” Julia said to him calmly, “They’re doing everything they can.”

Shadowsan said nothing, and simply stared at the floor as Julia and Chase exchanged a look. Chase knew what it was like to lose someone you loved, and had a feeling Shadowsan was going to spiral if Carmen didn’t pull through. He knew there was nothing anyone could say to him to make it any better, and so he said nothing at all.

The wait was painful, and no one felt like speaking and so they sat silently, the air heavy with tension. When the door opened, they all turned to look apprehensively, fearing the worst. To their relief, it was the rest of their teammates. 

“How is Carm doing?” Ivy immediately demanded, “Did she get a liver yet?”

Shadowsan had already reached for the nurse call button and didn’t answer.

“She’s barely holding on,” Julia responded, “None of us were a match.”

“Test **us**,” Zack ordered, “We’re all willing to donate if that means saving her life! Take anything you need from me!”

Everyone nodded their agreements. A nurse entered the room and when she saw the large group of people, she immediately turned and left again, clearly running for the doctor. Within seconds, she was back with her blood cart and assistant, and she looked around at the six newcomers.

“Is everyone being tested?” she demanded.

“Yes,” Shadowsan answered for them, “Test them all, and **hurry**!”

The nurse handed every newcomer a form to fill out and while they all wrote, Shadowsan paced impatiently. Once the nurse had the forms, she then began drawing blood from each and every person, writing their names on the vials as she did so. When the last person’s blood had been taken, she handed the basket of vials to her assistant who immediately took off at a run out the door. The nurse gathered her belongings and then rushed after the other woman.

“How are you doing, Chase?” El Topo asked in concern.

“I’m perfectly alright,” Chase assured him, “Nothing that hasn’t happened to me before.”

“I’m just not understanding how this happened,” Tigress commented, “Player said it was Vess that shot her?”

Shadowsan nodded angrily. “She put her trust in the wrong person, and she paid for it dearly,” he responded, “Dr. Vesalius will pay for this.”

The cold, hard anger in his eyes was terrifying and Tigress simply nodded, having a feeling this wasn’t the time to talk about this. For about twenty minutes, they had awkward and stilted conversations, and when the door opened, they all eagerly turned to see if it was the nurse. To everyone’s surprise, it was a couple strong-looking male nurses that entered the room, and they were pushing a gurney.

“There was a match!” one of the men announced.

There was a collective sigh of relief from everyone in the room.

“Okay, we need Martin Bombosa to hop up on the gurney,” one of the nurses said.

Everyone turned to stare at Mime Bomb in surprise. He suddenly looked incredibly nervous, but he still quickly approached and crawled up onto the gurney.

“Okay, we’re taking you to surgery where you’ll get dressed into a hospital gown and then get that makeup washed off,” one of the men said.

Mime Bomb turned terrified eyes towards Zack who was by his side in an instant. 

“Can I go with him?” Zack asked, “He doesn’t like hospitals.”

“Only as far as the surgery change room,” the nurses replied, opening the door. “We have to hurry,”

Zack seized Mime Bomb’s hand, and as the nurses pushed the gurney out of the room at a run, he gave the other boy a reassuring smile.

“You’re going to be fine, buddy. You’re saving Carmen’s life. I promise I won’t leave your side for an instant once you’re out of surgery.”

Mime Bomb was incredibly close to having a panic attack, this whole situation eerily close to how he spent four years of his life. Hospitals and doctors terrified him, and he squeezed Zack’s hand, struggling to remain calm. The only thing that kept him on that gurney was the thought of Carmen dying. He was the only one that could save her life, and he owed her everything. If it wasn’t for Carmen, he never would have been rescued from the Finnegans and he never would have met Zack. Although he was scared, he was going to remain strong for her. 

Zack followed him straight to surgery and Mime Bomb was quickly changed into a hospital gown as a couple nurses scrubbed off his makeup. As he was once again wheeled off, he glanced back at Zack who watched helplessly as he disappeared into the OR. Zack stared for a few minutes at the closed door feeling incredibly worried, but knew there was nothing more he could do. Hoping Mime Bomb and Carmen would be alright, he turned and headed back for Chase’s room.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

When Neal finished his incredibly long shower, his foot was so swollen, he could barely even stand on it. Knowing he’d once again messed it up, he had a feeling he was going to be off this leg for a few days. Having to sit down on the edge of the bathtub to get dressed, he glanced at his leg and saw it was once again turning purple from the bruises. Wincing in pain as he tried to bend his ankle, he let out a sigh, and dried himself off. Once he was dressed, he found he couldn’t put weight on his foot and so he gripped the handicap bar beside the bathtub and pulled himself up onto his good foot.

Opening the door, Neal saw Dash was watching tv, Otterman appeared to be sound asleep, and Moose Boy was nowhere in sight. Hopping out of the bathroom on his good foot, Neal made his way towards his bed as Dash gave him a snotty look. He stared at Neal's tacky zebra-striped shirt, and then rolled his eyes.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“Hurt my foot, and now I can’t walk on it,” Neal explained, sitting down beside Otterman.

Dash glanced down at his foot and quickly saw that it was bruised pretty badly. “Is it broken?” he asked, the tiniest hint of concern in his tone.

“Naw, I just dislocated it and then walked on it a bit too long.”

“Idiot,” Dash muttered.

Neal flopped back onto his pillow, and then glanced over at Dash. “You’re looking extra freckly today, Fancy,” he teased. 

“What?” Dash demanded, glaring over at him, “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know why you bother with make-up, I think the freckles add character,” Neal responded.

Dash frowned at him and then reached for his com, using the camera as a mirror. He stared at himself with wide and horrified eyes, realizing all of his makeup was gone. He’d been so sick, he hadn’t even realized someone had washed it off. Had he been like this the entire three days?! Sitting up, he felt himself flush, realizing he’d allowed his perfect appearance to slip.

Clutching his side, Dash slipped his feet out of bed and then carefully stood, wincing in pain.

“Er...you okay, fancy?” Neal asked, “You need help?”

“I’m fine,” Dash snapped, taking a few slow and cautious steps.

Crackle said this was the day he could walk on his own, but he was still in a considerable amount of pain. Hoping his fall out of bed the night before hadn’t done any damage, Dash just took it slowly, hand pressed firmly to his side. Neal watched him head to the bathroom in concern, and once he was gone, he turned his attention to the cat that was glaring at him from Dash’s bed.

“Hey puss-puss,” he greeted.

Steve hissed at him.

“Now, what happened to **you**?” Neal asked, observing the missing eye and mangled ear. “You scratch Paper Star?”

This did not seem like the type of cat Dash would allow anywhere near him, and Neal was curious about how Steve had won him over. If Neal so much as accidentally brushed against one of Dash's blankets, the other man had a conniption, but yet a very dirty alley-cat was allowed to sleep there?

“It must be your cheery personality,” Neal commented in amusement as the cat hissed at him again.

“Neal, shut up,” Otterman complained without opening his eyes. “You’re too loud.”

Neal rolled his eyes and then went quiet, glancing at the tv to see what Dash had been watching. It looked like some sort of nature documentary on wombats. Dash must have been pretty bored to watch something like that and Neal was amused. Only a moment later, Dash opened the bathroom door and without a word, he headed for his bag to grab a change of clothes. Breathing against the pain, he hefted his bag up onto his bed and then opened it. Dash then paused as he stared down into his bag.

“Did you mess with my bag?” he demanded, shooting Neal an accusing look.

“No,” Neal answered truthfully.

“Everything in my bag has been rearranged,” Dash stated, narrowing his eyes at the other man.

“I haven’t moved off this bed since you left,” Neal responded with a shrug.

Dash narrowed his eyes and then dug through his bag, looking for anything that was missing. When he discovered his most prized possession was nowhere in the bag, Dash felt a wave of panic come over him. He then looked up at Neal with a furious expression.

“Where is it?!” he hissed, “Give it back, you greasy sneak-thief!”

“Where’s what?” Neal asked, “I never touched your bag.”

Neal turned to face him, expression darkening. “This isn’t funny, Neal. Give it back! It’s special to me, and I want it back **now**.”

“Dash, I never touched your stuff,” Neal responded, furrowing his brow.

“Neal, this isn’t a joke!” Dash snarled, “It has sentimental value, and I want it back **right** now, or I’m going to bash your greasy head in!”

Neal was starting to get annoyed. “I’ve been back for like three seconds and you’re already blaming me for things! I didn’t touch your bag, Dash Haber.”

Dash scowled at him and then took a few steps over to Neal’s bag and picked it up. Unzipping the bag, he dumped the entire contents on the floor, but didn’t find what he was looking for.

“Satisfied?” Neal demanded, crossing his arms.

Dash shot him such an angry look that it actually took Neal a bit by surprise. “This isn’t funny, Neal. Just give it back to me now! I know you did it, you’re always the one who does shit like this!”

“I didn’t take anything!” Neal snapped.

Otterman’s eyes were wide open and he slowly looked over his shoulder at Dash. No one noticed the guilty look on his face, the other two men too busy glaring at each other.

Dash started approaching Neal’s side of the bed, and it was obvious he was getting angrier and angrier by the second.

Dash stood hands on hips and glowered at Neal who was quickly getting annoyed as well.

“Give. It. Back.” Dash ordered. “Give it back **now**, or I’m going to make you regret it.”

Neal narrowed his eyes, and didn’t move. “You can barely even walk, princess, how do you expect to do **anything**?” he demanded.

Dash grabbed him by the front of the shirt, and yanked him up so they were face to face. “Where the hell is it? Did you break it? Where is it?”

Neal was quickly losing his patience and he shoved Dash away from him harshly. Dash stumbled backwards against the nearby desk, but caught himself before he fell. Before he even realized what he was doing, he grabbed a hold of the motel phone, ripped it from its cords and smashed it into the side of Neal’s head. 

Otterman scrambled off the bed as Neal fell backwards, staring with wide eyes at what was happening around him. Neal clutched the side of his head for a few seconds and then without a single word, he lashed out with his good leg and kicked Dash square in the crotch. Dash hit the floor with an agonized screech, and clutched at himself as Neal sat back up. Otterman slowly edged his way towards the door, and then slipped outside when no one seemed to be paying him any attention.

Dash took a few deep breaths, and cursed Neal as he tried to push past the agony he was in. 

“You done now, you drama queen?” Neal demanded, glaring down at the other man. “I said I didn’t touch it.”

Dash’s response was to punch Neal as hard as he could in the injured ankle, and Neal let out a howl of pain, not expecting the sudden attack. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he looked up just as Dash swung a fist at his face. The punch connected solidly with Neal’s cheek, and Neal was knocked flat on the bed before he had time to react. Dash was panting from the pain these movements caused, but he pinned Neal down with the intention of hitting him again.

Neal was officially mad now, and using his forehead, he smashed his head into Dash’s face as hard as he could. Dash fell backwards, and in an instant, Neal reversed their positions. Having no idea what Dash’s problem was, Neal wasn’t about to just lay there and allow himself to be assaulted, and he lashed out, hitting Dash solidly in the jaw. Dash laid dazed for a second and then kicked Neal in the ankle, and this time, Neal felt something snap.

Neal was too furious at this point to even react to the pain and he grabbed Dash by the hair just as the door opened. They glanced up briefly, saw it was Otterman and then went back to struggling against each other. Neal didn’t release his hold on the hair and jerked Dash’s head back, just as Dash began clawing at Neal’s throat.

Neal pressed a hand into Dash’s stomach who instantly howled in absolute agony, and Neal looked up just as Otterman hurriedly shoved something into Dash’s bag. Neal gave him a look of realization, and Otterman froze in terror when he realized he’d just been caught. Neal simply stared at him without a word, and Otterman had a feeling he was about to get hit very very hard. To his surprise, Neal didn’t say anything, and instead blocked an elbow aimed at his gut and once again seized Dash by the hair.

It was then that the door opened a second time and Crackle walked in. He immediately stopped and stared at the scene that met him. Neal and Dash were in the middle of a very bloody fight, and Neal had Dash pinned beneath him, his fist raised in the air about to bring it down. Although incredibly relieved to see Neal, he was furious that once again the two men were fighting. Charging across the room, he grabbed the back of Neal’s shirt and yanked him off Dash harshly. When Dash lashed out, Crackle caught his fist before it could land and pushed him down onto the mattress with a warning look.

“**Enough**!” Crackle yelled, “What the hell is the matter with you two?! Why can the two of you never get along for even two minutes?!”

“He stole something from me!” Dash snarled, struggling against Crackle’s hold. “Something sentimental!”

Crackle glanced over at Neal, who was now seated on the other bed.

“Just give whatever it is back, Neal.”

Neal wiped the blood from his face and glared at Dash. “I didn’t take anything!”

“You’re a liar!” Dash snapped, “You’re **always** the one who pulls shit like this! I wish you hadn’t come back!”

“Neal, give Dash back what you took right **now**.” Crackle ordered, narrowing his eyes. “Stop trying to antagonize Dash!”

Neal was furious, and got up from the bed, carefully balancing on his good foot. “You know what, you guys? _ Whakianga mai! _ The **both** of you!”

Without another word, Neal headed for the door, using furniture to balance himself as he limped along. Crackle watched him go with an angry frown, and as Neal reached the door, Double Trouble and Paper Star walked in.

“Neal!” Theodore exclaimed with a happy smile, “You’re back!”

Neal shoved past them without a word, and they stared after him in confusion as he hopped his way across the parking lot to the pool. He took a seat in one of the lawn chairs at the pool’s edge, and didn’t so much as glance back at them.

Crackle was mad, and finally released Dash. “Where did he go? Did he just leave?”

“He’s sitting by the pool,” Roosevelt responded, “What happened?”

“Neal was antagonizing Dash and I scolded him for it,” Crackle responded with an irritated sigh.

“I want it back, Crackle, make him give it back!” Dash snarled, still shaking in rage. “He crossed a line.”

“I’ll speak with him in just a minute,” Crackle promised, “You’ll get whatever it is back. Now sit there and keep your mouth closed until I’m ready to deal with you.”

Dash scowled at him, but he did go silent, trusting Crackle to handle the situation.

Now that the fight had been dealt with, Crackle glanced at Otterman with a frown, and then at the hissing cat. 

“Can someone please explain to me why there’s a stranger in our motel room? And why is there an absolutely hideous cat on Dash’s pillow?”

Otterman stared at Team Crackle and wished Moose Boy was there, because he was suddenly feeling incredibly intimidated. 

“Oh, that’s Otterman,” Dash replied with a shrug. “Roundabout sent them here to San Diego.”

Crackle stared at Otterman knowing the other man’s reputation, and he gave him a frown. “Why?” he asked.

Otterman knew that since their cover had been blown, he had to think of an excuse why they were staying at the same motel as Team Crackle. “We were sent to help your team,” he quickly replied, “Roundabout thought you could use a bit of extra assistance.”

Crackle narrowed his eyes suspiciously while Dash gave him a look of complete disbelief.

“Um,” Roosevelt said a bit hesitantly, “But...you both kinda...suck.”

Otterman flushed. “You can use all the help you can get against Team Red since they outnumber you,” he pointed out, “At least now the odds are a little more even.”

Dash let out a snort. “Having **you** on our team worsens our odds.”

Crackle was suspicious, and frowned at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be recovering from getting shot?” he questioned.

“Er...yeah,” Otterman admitted, “I won’t be able to fight for a few more weeks, but Moose Boy is able to.”

Crackle stared at him and could clearly see the nervousness. Something wasn’t right here, and he was going to find out what it was. “I’m going to call Dr. Bellum about this,” he announced.

Otterman quickly panicked. “Wait!” he cried out. 

Crackle raised a brow in question.

“Roundabout instructed you to call him directly and he’d explain everything,” Otterman informed him, praying that Roundabout would back him up on this.

Crackle gave him a long and hard look, and then reached for his com which was on the nearby desk. “Very well. I’ll contact Roundabout to find out why he sent you to me.”

Crackle then stepped outside the motel room to make the call, and Otterman sank down onto one of the beds, feeling like he was waiting to find out if he was going to die. Paper Star passed him by without a word, and the twins approached, both looking mildly curious.

“Hello,” Theodore greeted, “We haven’t met before. My name is Theodore and this is my brother Roosevelt.”

Otterman looked up at the absolutely enormous men a bit nervously. “Er...Sven.”

“Nice to meet you, Sam.”

“It’s Sven actually.”

“Steven?”

“Sven.”

Theodore paused for a second. “...Stan?”

Otterman wanted to sigh, but didn’t quite trust the twins not to smack him if he did. “Ssss-ven. Sven”

“That’s...a weird-ass name,” Roosevelt commented. “Sss-van.”

“It’s Swedish,” Otterman responded, “It’s quite a common name where I’m from.”

“Oh, well, welcome to the team, Gwen,” Theodore greeted, sticking out his hand to shake.

This time Otterman did sigh, but he still accepted the friendly handshake. Otterman was feeling absolutely awful, and his whole body seemed to be aching in want of the painkillers, but he was determined to ignore it. Dash was right when he said he shouldn’t need them any more, and he was angry and embarrassed over everything that had happened.

“Are you hot?” Theodore asked, “You’re sweating.”

Otterman could feel Dash’s gaze on him, and he turned his eyes to the floor. “...I’m just not used to the heat in San Diego,” he lied.

“Want me to put the air conditioner on for you?” Theodore asked, already heading over to it.

Despite it being in the middle of the summer, Otterman was actually feeling freezing cold. “Uh, no, I’m alright,” he assured him.

Dash was dabbing the blood off his face, and was still looking incredibly furious. Otterman felt really bad for accidentally stealing something sentimental, and so he’d returned everything he’d taken from the suitcase. He assumed the item in question was probably the fancy watch, but since he wasn’t certain, he’d returned everything except for the cash. After a few minutes, Crackle returned, and he gave Otterman a nod.

“Roundabout confirmed your story and stated that I am in charge of you two until further notice.”

Crackle didn’t exactly look happy over this, and Dash mirrored the unhappy look.

“Crackle, we already have six people in this motel room.”

“We have our own room,” Otterman responded, “Henrik and I will be staying there.”

Crackle frowned, not liking the idea of the two operatives being out of his sight. He didn’t especially trust them, and still knew something seemed off about the whole situation. He couldn’t go against faculty orders however, and so for right now, Otterman and Moose Boy were part of Team Crackle. The room was too crowded as it was, and he knew it made sense to divide his team between two rooms.

“What room number are you staying in?” Crackle demanded.

“Room 43,” Otterman answered.

Crackle shook his head. “No, you’ll move to the room beside this one,” he ordered, “Where is Moose Boy?”

“He left to go to the pharmacy,” Otterman responded.

Crackle looked him up and down. “You don’t look well,” he observed, “Is he getting you medication?”

Otterman flushed again, and averted his gaze, and Crackle narrowed his eyes. 

“What aren’t you telling me?” he demanded.

“Um…” Otterman said, trying to think of how to phrase this, “I...er...had an accident with my medication last night…”

Crackle narrowed his eyes further. “Oh?” he questioned.

“He accidentally overdosed on painkillers last night and almost died,” Dash tattled, looking disinterested. “Moose Boy and I had to stay up all night dosing him with Naloxone until he recovered. The reason he looks so sick is because he’s going through withdrawal from the drugs.”

Crackle let out an aggravated huff. Great, this was exactly what he needed right now. He glared at Otterman and then held out his hand.

“Give me your medications,” he ordered.

“I don’t have it,” Otterman answered, feeling completely humiliated. “Henrik took my pills away.”

Crackle nodded. “You are not allowed to touch **any** medication without my express permission from now on,” he said in a warning voice, “So much as glance at an Advil and I will make you regret that decision, is this understood?”

Otterman gave a silent nod, still not making eye contact, and this seemed to satisfy Crackle. 

“Until you recover from your back surgery and your withdrawal, you are not to be left by yourself. While the rest of us are out on patrol in the mornings and evenings, you will remain here with Dash. Give me any trouble, and you find yourself beaten and tased, am I clear?”

Again Otterman nodded.

Crackle stared at him for a few moments, and then turned his gaze to the cat. “Now, can someone please explain why there’s a dirty street cat in here?”

“Er...you brought him here,” Roosevelt explained.

Crackle turned to look at him. “What?”

“You brought the cat here right before your seizure. It seemed to be very important,” Theodore told him, “I think he’s part of some sort of plan you came up with.”

Crackle felt a bit flabbergasted, and he again stared at the cat, having no recollection of this at all.

“You said his name was Steve,” Roosevelt helpfully added.

Steve...why did that name feel so familiar to him? He stared at the orange cat, and tried to remember anything from before his seizure. Everything was a blur, but he seemed to recall something about a cat.

“Did I say why it was important?” Crackle asked.

The twins both shook their heads no, and so he approached the cat with a frown. Steve immediately arched its back at him and hissed, and Crackle didn’t dare reach for it. If he said the cat was important, then it must have some sort of purpose. Was it something to do with V.I.L.E? Was the cat one of Dr. Bellum’s experiments? Should he call her and ask? He quickly shook his head at that thought. No, if he asked about it then she’d know about the seizure and he would likely end up punished because of it. Roundabout had informed him about Dash’s call and so he was relieved the hospital visit had been authorized.

“I picked up cat supplies,” Roosevelt said proudly, “I got everything a cat needs.”

Crackle glanced around the room and observed the various cat items.

“Enough about Steve!” Dash snapped, “What about Neal? Go get my stuff back!”

“Explain to me what happened,” Crackle ordered.

“I went to the bathroom and when I came out, and went to my bag, some of my belongings were missing. He was the only one that could have done it! He’s trying to mess with me!”

Crackle heaved a sigh. He was relieved Neal was safely back in their team, but also exasperated over the man immediately causing trouble.

“What did he take?”

Dash hesitated. “Something important to me.”

“Yes, but what was it?”

Dash seemed inclined to evade the question, because he glanced away as he answered. “He knows what it was. Just get it back.”

Crackle sighed yet again. “Dash, just tell me what he took.”

“No.”

Crackle wasn’t expecting this, and was taken a bit off-guard. “What? Why?” he demanded.

“No, because I’m not going to be judged by you assholes,” Dash snapped irritably, “Just make him give it back, and I’ll let this go.”

Crackle stared at him for a moment, wondering what possession Dash could possibly have that he didn’t want the rest of the team to find out about. Was it something against V.I.L.E’s rules? He stared at him long and hard for a few moments and then decided to not make a big deal out of it just yet.

“Very well,” he replied, “I’ll go speak with Neal.”

Crackle left the motel room and glanced towards the pool, seeing Neal was still sitting there, staring at the water. Crackle made his way across the parking lot, and the moment he neared Neal, the man’s expression turned thunderous. Crackle simply took a seat beside him, and then watched him for a moment, waiting for Neal to acknowledge him. Neal glared at the pool for a minute or so, before finally turning his eyes to Crackle.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Crackle told him, “We were all worried about you.”

Neal narrowed his eyes at him and said nothing. Crackle had never seen Neal this angry before, and was curious over it.

“How did you escape?” he asked.

Neal let out a snort and crossed his arms, turning his gaze back to the water.

“Neal?” Crackle questioned, “Can you answer me?”

“Like you actually care, Crackle,” Neal muttered.

Crackle frowned. “What’s bringing this on?” he demanded. “You were only there for three days, and we were coming for you, Neal. We were planning a raid on their base to get you back.”

“Right,” Neal responded, not sounding at all convinced.

Crackle gave Neal a considering look, trying to figure out what was the matter. “Neal, tell me what you’re thinking,” he ordered, “What’s causing this attitude? You’re never like this.”

Neal glanced back at him. “I’ve been back for like two seconds and I immediately get blamed for everything that goes wrong. I know that you guys find me annoying, but I would have at least expected you to give me the benefit of the doubt. I’m not a liar.”

“You’re saying you didn’t take anything out of Dash’s bag?”

“I never touched his stuff.”

It was true that Neal never seemed to lie, and although he was at times irritating, he was surprisingly honest with all of them. There was a raw and betrayed look lurking in Neal’s eyes, and Crackle saw no signs of deception. He gave the other man a nod of understanding.

“I believe you,” Crackle told him.

The angry look lessened a bit, and Neal frowned at him skeptically. “You do?” he questioned.

Crackle nodded. “You’re right, you’re not a liar, and I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I know Dash would never show it, but he was just as worried as the rest of us about you. I’m glad you’re safe, and I’m sorry I failed you. You never should have been taken in the first place. It might have taken us longer than expected, but you’re part of our team, and we’ll **always** come for you.”

Neal stared at him in silence, and although he didn’t say anything, the anger was quickly melting off his face. “I didn’t take anything from Dash,” he repeated after a few moments.

“And I said I believe you,” Crackle assured him. “I will continue to believe you from now on until the day it’s proven you’re lying.”

Neal let out a deep breath, and then nodded. “What about Dash? He seems convinced it was me.”

“Leave Dash to me,” Crackle responded, “I’ll talk to him for you.”

Neal gave another nod.

Crackle got up from his seat, and then gave Neal a frown when he didn’t move. “Are you coming back inside?” he asked.

“I’d love to, but I should probably go to the hospital…”

Crackle looked Neal up and down, but didn’t see any serious injuries. There was a bit of blood and a few bruises, but other than that, Neal looked fine.

“Why?” Crackle asked, “What happened?”

“Dash broke my ankle during his hissy fit.”

Crackle’s eyes widened and his gaze immediately traveled down to Neal’s feet. Sure enough one of his feet was looking a bit swollen and so he knelt down and carefully pushed up Neal’s pant leg. When he saw the black ankle, he gently touched the bruises with a couple fingers, and Neal jerked back in pain, letting out a curse. Crackle let out a curse as well, knowing this was really going to affect their team.

“I’ll be right back,” Crackle told him, standing up. “Don’t try to walk on that foot.”

Neal gave him a salute, and Crackle turned and headed back for the room. Dash was in trouble. When he opened the door, everyone looked up at him, and he narrowed his eyes at Dash who glowered in his direction.

“Well?” Dash demanded.

“He didn’t take it,” Crackle told him, struggling to keep hold of his temper.

“He did too!” Dash snarled, clearly getting worked up again. “He’s just trying to save his own a-”

“Enough.” Crackled snarled. “Go recheck your bag.”

“I already checked and it’s not there.” Dash snapped.

“Check. Again.”

Glaring at Crackle, Dash carefully got up from his bed and then reached for his bag. Hefting it up onto the bed, he unzipped it and then glanced through.

“Like I said, not there.” he commented in a rude tone of voice.

“Search more thoroughly than that.” Crackle ordered. “Perhaps you placed it somewhere else, or maybe it slipped underneath something.”

Dash sighed and then began pulling everything out of his bag. When he emptied the main compartment, he then began emptying the bag’s pockets. Reaching his hand down into one of the back pockets, he suddenly froze. Crackle saw the change in expression, and he crossed his arms.

“Well?”

Dash remained frozen in place for a moment and then slowly pulled something retangular and gold-coloured out of the bag. His face was flushed, and he was carefully not looking at Crackle.

“Is that what you were looking for?” Crackle demanded, already knowing by his face that it was.

Dash mutely nodded.

“You attacked your teammate, accused him of stealing from you, and made a complete fool of yourself all over nothing.” Crackle scolded angrily. “Your temper is out of control, Dash Haber, and I’ve had enough of your moodiness. You and I are going to be having a serious conversation about this as soon as I return from taking Neal to the hospital.”

“Hospital?” Otterman questioned in surprise.

Crackle nodded, not once taking his eyes off Dash. “Neal’s ankle got broken during the fight. Now he’s probably going to be off that leg for weeks.”

Dash still didn’t look up, and Crackle had to fight to keep his temper in check.

“Are you injured as well, Dash?” Crackle demanded.

Dash shook his head without a word.

“You owe Neal an apology, and this is **never** going to happen again.” Crackle said firmly.

The thought of having to swallow his pride and apologize was too much for Dash, and he finally looked up. “He probably just put this back when no one was looking! Even if he didn’t steal it, he probably did something **else** to deserve it anyway. I’m **not** apologizing to that slimy-”

Crackle slapped Dash across the face before he could get out another word. The slap hadn’t been hard, but it was enough to jar Dash into silence. Clutching at his cheek, he stared at Crackle with wide and betrayed eyes, but said nothing.

“I’m too angry to even deal with you right now,” Crackle snapped, turning away. “Roosevelt, come with me; we’re taking Neal to the hospital.”

Roosevelt gave a glance to Dash, and then nodded, turning to follow after Crackle.

“I’ll call you if we’re going to be longer than a couple hours,” Crackle told everyone else, “I’m going to call to get permission to take Neal to the hospital. It shouldn’t be an issue since Roundabout stated he is taking care of medical permissions for our team.”

Crackle then paused and glanced over his shoulder at Dash who was still standing there, hand covering his sore cheek.

“You’d better eat something, Dash, or I’m **not** going to be happy when I return,” he warned, “You give me even one ounce of trouble, and you are not going to like the consequences.”

Dash said nothing at all, and so Crackle turned and left the room without another word. Roosevelt patted Dash on the shoulder as he passed, and then he too left the room. Once they were gone, Dash lowered his hand away from his face, and then clenched it into a fist. Avoiding eye contact with the other three people in the room, he flopped down onto his bed and then faced the wall, incredibly embarrassed.

“Erm,” Theodore said, trying to break the awkward silence in the room. “Do you want to play cards with me, Gwen?”

Otterman felt unbelievably guilty for causing all of this, and he knew he owed Neal an apology as well. He was actually surprised that Neal hadn’t tattled on him, and was grateful for that small bit of mercy. He’d never really been nice to Neal, even during their time at the academy, and Otterman wasn’t sure how he felt about this. 

“If you don’t know how to play, I can teach you,” Theodore volunteered. 

“Sure, I’ll play with you,” Otterman replied.

“Paper Star?” Theodore questioned.

“What game?” she demanded.

“I don’t care,” Theodore responded, “You can pick.”

Paper Star considered it for a moment and then nodded.

Theodore hesitated a moment and then glanced over at Dash. “Dash? You want to play?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? It’ll be more fun with four people.”

Dash didn’t answer, obviously sulking.

“Okay, suit yourself,” Theodore responded.

The three operatives took a seat on one of the beds and as Paper Star began to deal the cards, Dash let out a groan of misery and pulled a blanket over his head. He had a feeling Crackle was not going to let this whole thing go.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The sound of the hustle and bustle within the airport echoed off the tall ceiling, the constant chatter and announcements blending together into a dull drone as a woman exited the baggage claim area. She paused for a moment to check her watch. She had scheduled for extra time in case there was a delay, but had ended up arriving much earlier than she needed. She tapped her foot as she considered her options, and then decided it wouldn’t hurt to stop for a coffee before she left the airport. 

As if on cue, her stomach suddenly rumbled softly. She glanced around until she spotted a cozy looking coffee shop and headed in its direction. While she was waiting for her drink to be made, she noticed a little donation box sitting on the countertop. She didn’t understand the main text, but luckily there were English and Arabic translations on the bottom, and she saw that it was a charity for the children’s hospital. She quietly stuffed a generous tip into the box before the barista came back with her order: a hot coffee and strawberry scone. 

The back wall of the coffee shop was covered by a large mirror, probably to make the shop look bigger than it really was. She noticed her reflection as she sat down and reached up to adjust her hijab. It was her favorite one, a dark purplish-red the color of wine, and it wasn’t too often she had a chance to wear it. She had figured a business trip was as good a chance as any to dress up, since she rarely left her home in Yemen. 

She sat deep in thought as she sipped away at her coffee, going over various scripts in her head that she’d been practicing for the meeting. She loved her country, but when it came to the media, it seemed like world news outlets were always either painting Yemen in a terrible light or ignoring it entirely. Lately it seemed they were leaning toward the latter, and she had been noticing a decline in donations to her charity programs. Hopefully she’d be able to secure some more funds during this trip. 

After a while she finished her coffee and got up to leave, tugging her luggage bag along behind her. There was a bit more energy in her step now thanks to the caffeine, and she silently went over her schedule in her head as she walked, calculating the time she would need for everything despite still being well ahead. She noticed someone standing by the window ahead and did a double take. 

No, it couldn’t be. She abruptly froze in place, nearly causing someone behind her to trip over her bag. A momentary wave of panic swept over her. It was impossible. At least, it felt impossible, after all this time. Her breath became a bit shallower. What was she supposed to do? What was she supposed to feel? The flurry of anxiety gave way to an odd sense of determination, the cacophonous drone of the airport fading away as she approached the person at the window. 

It really **was** him. 

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Dr. Vess stood by the window in the Astana Airport, listening to Michael talk about his adventures in jail. He’d switched out his usual white coat with a comfortable black jacket since he hadn’t had time to remove the bloodstains. 

“Did I mention he used broken glass to do it?” Michael was bragging about the new tattoos on his knuckles. “Fucking badass, am I right?”

“You’re incredibly lucky you didn’t get an infection. Besides, you know it’s spelled incorrectly, don’t you?” Vess pointed out, “_ ‘Your dead?’ _” 

“No it’s not,” Michael immediately denied, “You just don’t get it.”

“Explain it then,” Vess raised an eyebrow. 

Michael stared up at him and fidgeted for a moment before changing the subject. “Did I show you my new gun?”

“Don’t you dare bring that out, you idiot,” Vess scolded him, “We’re in an airport. Try to lay low for once.” 

Michael’s hand was already halfway into his bag, and he retracted it with a pout. “You’re so boring.”

“I just don’t want you do you anything stupid for a while.”

Michael gave him a cocky smirk. “Aw Numa, you know me better than that.” 

Vess stared down at him, looking like he was about to scold him again, but couldn’t help the smile that came across his face as he chuckled. Michael beamed up at him, proud that he was one of the few people that could make Vess laugh. He opened his mouth to say more, but the words failed to escape as he noticed someone approaching them. He looked over Vess’ shoulder at them, and Vess noticed the confusion on his face. Before he could ask what was wrong, he heard a soft, unsteady voice behind him.

“...Numa?” 

Vess turned around and his eyes widened as his gaze fell upon the last person he expected to see.

She stepped closer to him. “Is...Is it really you?” she asked. They stared at each other for a long moment, both unsure of how to react. 

Michael slung an arm over Vess’ shoulder jealously, giving a dirty look to the woman standing in front of them. “You know this bitch?” he asked rudely, looking her up and down. “Why’s she on a first name basis with you, huh?”

Vess shrugged his arm off with a scoff. “It’s nothing like that.” 

“Well who is she then?” Michael crossed his arms, looking at Vess expectantly. 

“Michael, meet…” Vess hesitated, rubbing the back of his head nervously before gesturing to the woman as if to present her. “...My sister, Karam.” 

Michael’s arms fell to his sides as he looked back and forth between them in shock, realizing how alike they looked. “You never told me you had a sister!” 

“We haven’t been in contact,” Vess answered curtly. 

Karam huffed. “That’s because you stopped contacting-!” She cut herself off and took a deep breath, raising her hands slightly to calm herself down before speaking again. She looked up at him again, a pained look in her eyes. “Numa, where have you been?” 

Vess shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve been working. I am a very busy person.”

“A doctor?”

“A surgeon,” Vess stated matter-of-factly. “...Among other things.” 

“Just like you always wanted,” Karam nodded with a small smile. Vess didn’t smile back, and so there was an awkward silence between them. She hesitated, rubbing her hand up and down her sleeve before finally speaking up again. “Numa...why did you leave?”

“Yemen wasn’t safe at the time. I left to complete medical school,” he answered stiffly, “You know that.” 

Karam shook her head. “No, I mean why did you leave **us? **Mama and Baba, they were worried sick for the rest of their lives. How could you just abandon your family like that?” She was looking up at him with an expression of genuine hurt, but he was avoiding her gaze. 

“Oh please, it was for the best,” Vess scoffed. He turned to look out the window, watching as a plane rolled by until it ascended into the air, the lights around the runway dancing against the glass. He spoke again, his voice softer this time. “It’s not like you wanted me around anyway.” 

Michael, who had been listening quietly, tilted his head in curiosity. He wasn’t used to hearing Vess talk about his family - In fact, up until now he had known next to nothing about them. 

Karam stared up at Vess in disbelief. She suddenly switched to speaking in Arabic. [[How could you say that? Of course we wanted you around!]] She stepped to the side and leaned closer in an attempt to look Vess in the eye despite him being turned away. She looked over his face, seeing how, underneath the longer hair and dark circles around his eyes, he still looked just like the younger brother she remembered. How could someone look so familiar and yet so distant? 

[[Numa, we loved-]]

[[Stop,]] Vess held up a hand to silence her. He turned to face her again, looking down at her coldly. [[No, you didn’t. Perhaps you **thought** you did, but I fail to see how you could love someone you are so afraid of.]]

Karam went quiet, a combination of several emotions passing over her face before settling on a look of pure pain and sadness. 

Michael sat down on a nearby chair. He’d accepted that they’d long since started ignoring his presence, and was keen on watching the drama unfold. At the moment, he had no idea what they were saying, but the look on the girl’s face was enough to amuse him. 

Karam wiped away a tear and her expression changed to one of anger. [[We weren’t afraid of you, we were concerned! You did things no child should have been doing, and yet you saw nothing wrong with it. Do you have **any** idea how patient Baba was with you? He tried to help you.]]

Vess waved a hand dismissively. [[An overreaction. They were stray, diseased animals, Karam. They would have died on the streets anyway. I was simply taking matters into my own hands and educating myself about anatomy - It’s why I’m so good at what I do.]]

Karam let out a sharp, humorless laugh. [[Oh really? And what exactly is it that you do?]]

[[I am a surgeon, as I said,]] Vess replied dispassionately, [[My job is to help people.]]

Karam smiled. It wasn’t a smile of humor or joy, but of barely contained grief and ire. [[No,]] she shook her head. [[No, Mama and Baba were doctors because they wanted to help people. They cared about other human beings.]] She looked into his eyes challengingly. [[You became a doctor because you like to play God.]] 

Vess narrowed his eyes at her but said nothing. 

[[You hid it well from our parents,]] she continued, [[But not from me. I saw it happen. I saw the look in your eyes.]] She glanced away for a moment, taking in a shaky breath. [[I saw how you changed every time. The blood makes you high.]]

Vess thought about it, and his mind was filled with the coppery smell of blood. The feeling of warm, living flesh pulsating beneath his fingers. The way it made his breath quicken and his heart race. He knew she was right.

[[And what of it?]] he asked. 

Suddenly a resonant clap cut through the air. Vess was taken aback, but made no sound, only raising a hand to his cheek where she’d slapped him. Karam stared up at him furiously, tears pooling in her eyes but not allowing them to fall. “All this time,” she said in English, “All this time I spent hoping and praying that you were out there, changing for the better. I thought, just maybe, the only family I have left is someone worth hoping for.” She clenched her jaw, fighting back the tears welling in her eyes. She straightened her back, replacing all the emotion in her voice with professionalism as she gripped the handle of her bag. “I have work to do. I’m sorry we had to meet this way.” 

Vess met her gaze indifferently. “I’m sorry we had to meet again at all.” 

One last time, she looked deep into his eyes, as if searching for something. 

One last time, she found nothing.

So she left.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Mime Bomb felt a hand shaking his shoulder, but was too drowsy to react to it.

“Mr. Bombosa, can you please open your eyes?” an unfamiliar voice asked.

Mime Bomb just wanted to sleep, and ignored the stranger. She tried to rouse him a couple more times, and then gave up, allowing him to sleep a while longer. Mime Bomb slept for another ten minutes, before once again his shoulder was given a shake.

“Mr. Bombosa, can you please open your eyes?” the same woman demanded.

Mime Bomb shifted a bit, the sedatives still weighing on him heavily. He felt hands on his legs and the woman moved him a bit, before once again shaking his shoulder.

“Mr. Bombosa? I need you to wake up for now,” she ordered.

Mime Bomb suddenly heard Zack’s voice. “Why won’t he wake up?!” he asked worriedly, “Did something go wrong?”

“Oh no, sweetheart, everything went fine,” the woman assured him, “Sometimes it just takes people a little while to wake up. Your brother’s responses are all excellent, and his breathing is fine. He’s just a little drowsy.”

“You’re **sure**?” Zack asked, his voice sounding nervous.

Mime Bomb didn’t want to worry Zack, and he shifted, trying to wake himself up.

“See? He’s waking up already,” the woman pointed out.

“Mime Bomb?” Zack asked directly into his ear, “You awake?”

Mime Bomb shifted again, and then opened his eyes, everything around him bleary. Zack’s freckled face appeared directly in front of him, and the other boy gave him a wide grin.

“You’re okay!”

Mime Bomb rubbed at his eyes, tempted to sleep more, but that idea was quickly squashed when the nurse started poking and prodding at him. He glanced down and saw she was removing several IVs from his arms, and he watched her, feeling a bit confused.

“Mime Bomb?” Zack questioned.

He turned to look back at Zack who leaned in close to stare into his eyes. Zack then began to laugh, and Mime Bomb gave him a puzzled look. This only caused Zack to laugh even harder.

“You are **so** high right now!” he commented, wheezing from laughing so hard. “Your pupils are **huge**!”

“That’s a normal reaction to the sedatives,” the nurse replied, rolling her eyes. “He’ll come out of it in thirty minutes or so.”

“Oh, geez, I’m getting a picture of this!” Zack announced pulling his com out of his pocket. 

Mime Bomb simply stared at him as Zack snapped a pic of him, and he glanced around the room. He was in a room with the curtains drawn, and he assumed this must be a recovery room of some sort. Raising his hands clumsily, he signed something at Zack who furrowed his brow.

“You’re gonna have to repeat that, buddy. You’re signing like you’re drunk.”

Mime Bomb repeated the sign a bit more carefully this time, and Zack gave him a nod of understanding.

“Family?”

Mime Bomb nodded.

“Only one person was allowed in here with you,” Zack explained, “Now that you’re awake, they’re going to put you in with Chase.”

Mime Bomb’s hand went down to his abdomen, and he could feel tenderness there.

“Careful!” Zack scolded, “You’re on bedrest for a week, and no touching your stitches!”

Mime Bomb motioned like he was putting on a hat and then pointed to the wound.

“Carmen?”

Mime Bomb nodded, and Zack gave him a huge grin.

“She’s going to be okay! Your liver was a perfect match, and she’s already improving! They’re going to keep her in intensive care for a few days, but the doctors say she’s going to pull through!”

Mime Bomb let out a deep breath of relief.

“It’s going to take her a really long time to fully heal, but she should wake up in a few hours,” Zack told him, “You’re not allowed to move for a week though, so you’ll have to visit with her using video chat.”

Mime Bomb gave a nod, and the nurse once again shifted him slightly.

“You need to take things very easy for the next two months,” she warned him, “No sports or anything too strenuous. It will take time for your liver to repair itself.”

Mime Bomb’s eyes widened. Two months?! Zack saw his horrified look and gave him a sympathetic look. 

“Sorry, man, sucks I know,” he commented, “You just got your arm back, and now you have to remain in a wheelchair for a while.”

Mime Bomb gaped at him. A wheelchair?!

“Sweetheart, you’re getting too worked up,” the nurse commented, “You need to stay calm and rest.”

She then turned to Zack. “He needs to rest a bit more before he’s ready for company,” she stated, “I’m going to ask you to please return to the rest of your family for a couple hours.”

Zack frowned. “I promised him I wouldn’t leave his side…”

“He’s just going to take a nap, and then when the doctor gives the okay, he’ll be brought in to the hospital room with your uncle.”

Zack turned his gaze to Mime Bomb, who seemed rather uncertain. Zack immediately shook his head.

“Sorry, I’m not leaving him. He’s scared of hospitals and I won’t leave his side. I’ll let him sleep, and I swear I won’t disturb him,” Zack promised.

The nurse gave him a look of disapproval. “If I hear you say a single word to the patient, I’ll have to have you escorted out of the recovery ward.”

Zack nodded his agreement.

The nurse gathered her supplies together and then walked out of the curtain without another word. Once she was gone, Mime Bomb shot Zack a grateful look who simply smiled. Mime Bomb signed ‘thank you’ at him who immediately signed back ‘you’re welcome’ , knowing the nurse didn’t realize Mime Bomb used sign language.

Zack leaned back in the visitor’s chair and closed his eyes, and Mime Bomb realized the other boy was planning on napping while he did. Absolutely exhausted, Mime Bomb allowed his eyes to close and within seconds he had fallen back to sleep.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Shadowsan stared down at Carmen, and gently took her hand in his. She was hooked up to dozens of tubes and machines, and she looked **so** small laying there that it was gut-wrenching. Although she hadn’t woken up yet, Shadowsan was remaining diligently by her side, ready to defend her at all costs if necessary. The doctors were confident everything had gone well, but until she woke, they wouldn’t know for certain.

As her father, Shadowsan was the only one allowed in intensive care with Carmen, and Player was keeping everyone informed with what was happening between Chase’s room, Mime Bomb’s room, and Carmen’s room. The boy hadn’t slept all night, and was clearly starting to lose steam. Everyone had tried to order him to bed, but he insisted on staying awake until Carmen woke.

None of the others had slept a wink all night either while Mime Bomb and Carmen had been in surgery, too worried to do anything but wait. When they were informed both surgeries were successful, everyone was relieved.

Shadowsan glanced at the equipment that surrounded Carmen’s bed, keeping a close eye on the numbers in case anything began to change. When Carmen suddenly let out a low groan, Shadowsan attention snapped to her in an instant, and he reached out a hand to gently cup her cheek.

“Carmen?” he questioned.

There was another groan, and she shifted ever so slightly.

“Can you hear me?” he whispered hopefully.

Carmen cracked open a single eye, and Shadowsan smiled at her, now certain she was going to be alright.

Shadowsan ran a hand through her hair, and she blinked a few times, and simply looked up at him, her mind still fuzzy from the anesthetic.

“Carmen?” he asked.

“Hi,” she replied, her voice small and tired.

She offered him a small smile, but it was obvious she was exhausted.

“Carmen’s awake!” Player crowed out excitedly.

There was an immediate chatter in the coms as everyone began speaking at once in excitement, and Carmen looked a little bemused, her coms still online.

Her limbs felt too heavy to move and she tried to focus her thoughts, but everything seemed to be in a fog.

“How are you feeling?” Shadowsan asked gently.

“Tired,” Carmen admitted, “What happened?”

Shadowsan hesitated. “You don’t remember?”

Carmen shook her head.

“Well, don’t worry about that right now,” he replied, “You need to rest, and focus on getting stronger.”

Carmen furrowed her brow, feeling like she was forgetting something incredibly important. She was tired, but she fought against it, trying to organize her thoughts. She was clearly in a hospital, and by the pain in her abdomen, it was probably safe to assume she’d been operated on. Her eyes travelled the room, and she saw the tubes and wires that surrounded her on every side, and she frowned. Alright, so it was a **serious** operation. 

The last thing she remembered was being on a mission...a mission to capture Michael Jr. Carmen let out a gasp, her eyes widening in horror. Vess! Dr. Vess had turned on her, and he shot her! Carmen turned pale, and her heart monitor began to beep more quickly.

“Carmen?” Shadowsan asked in alarm.

“Vess!” she gasped out.

“Shh, shh,” Shadowsan said soothingly, “Do not think about that right now. You need to remain calm.”

“Vess shot me!” she said in alarm. 

“You are going to be alright,” Shadowsan assured her, resting a hand on her shoulder.

Carmen struggled to sit up, but he held her down, his expression turning stern. 

“No, you have to remain down,” he ordered, “You are still very weak, and you are not ready to sit up.”

“He shot me!” she repeated, “Vess shot me!”

Shadowsan nodded, and Carmen’s expression became stricken. “I-I thought… Vess… I thought we were friends.”

“I doubt Dr. Vesalius **has** any friends,” Shadowsan informed her. 

Carmen stared up at him with a humiliated expression. “I’m an idiot… I feel so stupid. I trusted him, and I almost died because of it…”

Shadowsan nodded. “You never should have trusted him,” he agreed, “But you got lucky, and you did not die. You are still with us, and that is all that matters for now.”

Carmen squeezed her eyes closed and silently shook her head, a single tear escaping her eyes. Shadowsan brushed it aside, and then rested a hand on top of her head.

“You are a kind and generous soul,” he told her, “You wanted to believe the best of Vess, but he was loyal to V.I.L.E. You made a mistake, but now you know better. We’ll learn from this and not make the same mistake twice.”

“I ruined **everything**,” Carmen replied, still not opening her eyes. “We had a chance to capture the V.I.L.E surgeon AND Michael Jr. and I ruined it.”

“You did what you thought was right,” Shadowsan assured her, “I promise we will talk more about this when you’re feeling a bit better, but for right now, you need to rest.”

“I’m glad you’re okay, Red,” Player said softly in the com, “I was really worried.”

Carmen didn’t respond.

“You’re my best friend...my **first** friend, and you mean a lot to me. We all love you, Carmen, and believe me when I tell you, that no one blames you for anything.”

There was a murmuring of agreement from everyone else, and Carmen gave a very small smile.

A doctor suddenly entered the room, and Carmen and Shadowsan glanced up at her as she approached the bed.

“You’re awake!” she exclaimed with a smile, “Excellent!”

Carmen didn’t answer, feeling too tired to bother.

“You’re a lot more alert than I was expecting, which is incredibly good. Most patients don’t wake for at least a day after a liver transplant, so I’m very impressed. You’ll recover in no time, I’m sure!”

“Liver transplant?!” Carmen repeated in shock.

The doctor nodded. “Luckily for you, your cousin Martin was a perfect match. Blood relatives are always the best ones to use in these circumstances.”

“Brother,” Carmen corrected, surprised to learn the mime had donated a piece of his liver to her.

The doctor frowned down at her chart. “If you say so…” she said hesitantly.

“How is he doing?” Carmen asked in concern.

“He’s doing fine,” she replied, “He woke up a while ago and is very alert, and doesn’t seem to be in too much discomfort.”

Carmen let out a breath of relief. “Oh, good. Can I see him?”

The doctor shook her head. “No, you need to stay here for at least three days before you can be transferred to a private room. Although I doubt it will happen, liver rejection is a possibility we have to watch for.”

“When can I leave the hospital?”

The doctor gave her a shrug. “You’re going to be here at least a month, if not longer.”

Carmen’s eyes widened. “A month?!”

The doctor nodded. “A liver transplant is a very serious procedure, and you won’t be walking for months,” she informed her, “You can expect to fully recover in six to twelve months.”

Carmen gaped at her in absolute horror. “A year?!”

“It takes time for your body to heal after such a traumatic event,” the doctor explained, “Your cous-er brother will recover a lot sooner since he only donated a piece of his liver. You have to wait for that new liver to heal, and then for it to grow inside you back to full size.”

Carmen turned white as a sheet, and Shadowsan gave her a worried look, but didn’t comment, not wanting to embarrass her any further. The doctor looked Carmen over for a few minutes, checked the various machines, and then left again to fetch Carmen a few painkillers. As soon as she was gone, Carmen looked up at Shadowsan, her expression terrified.

“A year?!” she whispered.

“It will be fine,” Shadowsan assured her.

“What about our mission, what about V.I.L.E?!”

“We will find a way, Carmen,” Shadowsan assured her, “Do not worry about this right now.”

“I’ve ruined everything…”

“No, Red,” Player spoke up, “We’re a team, and we will always be ready to take down V.I.L.E. You might not be able to go on missions personally, but you’re still our leader, and you will still be in charge of the missions. You could become **me** for a few months until you’re back on your feet. You’d still be part of things, and you’d oversee everything.”

Carmen didn’t feel reassured. “Player, I appreciate the thought, but I’m just not-”

“What was that?!” Player suddenly demanded.

“What was what?” Zack demanded into the com.

“There was a loud noise. Is everything okay with everyone?”

There were a few replies that everything was fine.

“Strange, it was so loud, maybe there’s something wrong with my headphon-”

Player cut off again. 

“Player?” Carmen questioned.

“...It’s not on your end...it’s on **mine**,” he said a bit hesitantly.

“Player? What’s going on?” Carmen demanded in alarm.

“...I think there’s someone in my house!” he whispered frantically.

Suddenly there was a deafening crash of splintering wood, and then the sound of Player dropping his headphones.

“Who are you? What are you-wait, wait stop! Let me go! STOP!”

“Player?”

There was no reply.

“Player?!”

There was nothing but silence.

“PLAYER!” Carmen cried out, a stab of pure fear coursing through her.

Suddenly there was the sound of the headphones being fumbled with.

“Player?” Carmen asked hopefully.

“We have the little boy,” came a man’s voice that was thick with a Russian accent, “You are Carmen Sandiego, yes?”

“What have you done with Player?!” Carmen cried out, “Let him go! Who are you?!”

“We will kill the little boy if you don’t do exactly as we say,” the man said, his tone going dangerous.

“What do you want?” Carmen demanded.

“Give us Yuri Volkov,” The man ordered, “We will be in touch shortly to arrange the trade-off.”

The headset then crackled as it was dropped to the floor. Team Red all sat frozen as they listened to heavy footsteps as they ascended the stairs, and there was the obvious sound of a scream and more struggling. Then there was nothing but silence.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**I'm a dirty bastard who left you guys at a cliffhanger! hahahaha I feel so evil right now, and I love it! >:)**

**I'm going to do my best to get chapter 21 out by the 17th at the absolute latest. I've been working on a lot of side-fics at the same time as this one, and so that's why updates are a little slower than normal. Please forgive the delay! **

**All credit for these gorgeous pics goes to these wonderful artists!**

**MelodyMeddly is responsible for the Neal pic**

**Violetfic is responsible for the pic of Dr. Vess and Michael Jr. and also the pic of Karam (Dr. Vesalius is owned by Violetfic , and I am using him with her permission.)**

**Coulrosaurus is responsible for the Dash pic.**

**If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!**

**Credit for the names of Otterman and Moose Boy go to Animedemon01**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**

**Please don't forget to let me know what you think!**


	21. Siren's Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone!
> 
> I'm a little bit nervous about this chapter. This is the very first time I've ever given an OC their own chapter before, and I'm hoping everyone likes it. Hopefully everyone likes Siren, because I have a lot planned for that little shit.
> 
> An enormous thank you to the very awesome Violetfic for being my beta and also to Coulrosaurus for offering some very awesome suggestions to help improve this chapter. 
> 
> Please note that Dr. Vess and Michael Jr. both use the F-word extremely frequently in their everyday speech. You have been warned.
> 
> If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 21**

**Siren’s Song**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The darkness was heavy, and seemed to press in from all sides. There were no windows, no electricity, and there was no light at all. The atmosphere of the lower basement was unnerving, and every now and then there was the sound of groaning pipes above.

Terry walked through the basement slowly as he shone his flashlight around the destroyed rooms. He observed the scorch marks that seemed to cover every wall, and he hoped the basement was still structurally sound. Almost everything around him was in complete ruins, but he found a few rooms that were mostly intact and began searching them, looking for medical supplies. Although the bullets had only grazed him, he knew he needed to treat the wounds before they got infected.

None of the rooms he searched had anything he could use, and Terry hoped he wouldn’t have to just use soap and water. He’d been exploring for about an hour, and he was now wandering through what looked like some sort of research room. The room was in pretty good shape, and he began opening drawers and cabinets, hoping to find bandages. When he opened a metal cabinet, he nearly had a heart attack when he saw dozens upon dozens of jars filled with human body parts.

Holding a hand to his chest as he got over his fright, he stared at the jars in complete disgust. The body parts looked like they belonged to children, and Terry found his gaze settling on a large jar filled with eyes.

“What the **hell**, V.I.L.E?!” he muttered to himself.

Reaching out, he picked up the jar, and turned it around in his hands, staring at the eyes with morbid curiosity. Dozens of eyes stared back at him, and he wondered what V.I.L.E had been doing down in this basement before the fire. He’d seen the patient rooms that looked like prison cells, and the bones that littered the floors, and had a feeling the experiments done were probably pretty horrific. Setting the jar back on the shelf, he turned away, not wanting to think about this any more. Opening the next cabinet, he saw more jars and quickly closed it again. 

“I’m working for Dr. Frankenstein,” Terry commented to himself, “God…”

Terry crossed the room to where there were a row of white cabinets and hesitantly opened one. To his relief it was filled with medical supplies, and he began digging through, looking for something he could use. He grabbed a few rolls of bandages, and then came across a first aid kit. Just as he picked the kit up, he heard a terrified shriek echo through the hallways. Terry let out a curse as he realized he forgot to sedate Siren, and turned to hurry back to where he’d left him.

Terry sped up to a run as the shrieks became more and more terrified, and he hoped the other man wasn’t in any danger. When he made it back to the room, he shone the flashlight at the bed only to discover Siren wasn’t there. Moving the beam of light around the room, he found Siren curled up into a fetal position in the corner of the room. Siren had his arms covering his head and he was just shrieking in absolute terror. Terry had never seen him like this before, and he hesitantly approached, not sure about Siren’s mental state that the moment.

“Siren?” he questioned.

Siren didn’t respond, simply screaming as he rocked back and forth. Terry didn’t see any sort of weapon in the smaller man’s hands and so he knelt down beside him. He saw blood on the floor and on the white cloth of Siren’s hospital gown and he realized it was from the IV.

“You ripped out your IV, you little shit!” Terry exclaimed in surprise.

Siren didn’t respond, still shaking in absolute terror. When Terry reached out to pull him out of the corner, Siren shrieked even louder, and immediately began kicking and lashing out to defend himself. Siren wasn’t very strong, and so Terry was easily able to overpower him. When he pinned the smaller man’s arms to his sides to stop him from fighting, Siren began to hyperventilate and he struggled uselessly.

“Siren!” Terry said loudly, giving him a shake. “Siren!”

Siren’s eyes opened, and when he looked up at Terry, his eyes were wild with fear, and full of tears. Terry had never seen him look so scared, and now he felt bad for his prank yesterday. Was Siren **this** scared when he’d sent him down here the day before?

“Siren, it’s okay,” Terry said, softening his tone a bit. “Calm down, nothing’s going to hurt you. You’re okay.”

Siren gazed at him uncomprehendingly for a moment, and then finally quieted and went still.

Terry stared down at him for a few seconds warily, and when it seemed like Siren was finally starting to calm down, he released him. Siren kept a tight hold of Terry’s arm as if worried Terry was going to leave, and then looked away from him.

“I..I thought you left me down here,” Siren admitted in a quiet voice.

Terry hadn’t realized Siren’s fear of the dark was **this** severe, and pushed aside the twinge of guilt. “I wouldn’t do that,” Terry assured him, “I promise I won’t leave you here.”

Siren said nothing and when Terry went to get up, Siren tightened his hold on the arm in an almost painful grip. Terry pulled Siren up with him, and then shone the flashlight around the room until he found the spot he’d dropped the first aid kit. Siren remained attached to his arm like a barnacle, and Terry flashed him a somewhat annoyed look, but didn’t comment. He assumed once Siren calmed down a bit more, he’d eventually let him go, and return to being a snarky asshole.

Terry stared at the now ruined IV on the floor, and knew this was his fault for forgetting to sedate Siren while he had the chance. He was now stuck with a conscious Siren until Vess returned. Terry picked up the first aid kit, and then took a seat on the cot, Siren still not making any move to let go of him.

“I need my arm back,” Terry informed him.

Siren tightened his grip, and Terry let out a sigh, turning the flashlight to Siren so he could see him. Siren looked a bit more calm, but still frightened, and so Terry decided to be patient for a little while longer.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Terry assured him, “I just need to bandage my injuries.”

Siren’s eyes traveled to the bloody spots on Terry’s shirt and pants, and then he hesitantly shifted his grip from the arm to bottom of Terry’s shirt instead. Terry rolled his eyes but didn’t comment.

“Where is Vess?” Siren demanded.

“He got called away on some sort of emergency,” Terry replied, opening the medical kit. “How are you feeling?”

“What the hell do **you** think, Kevin? The whole facility is trying to murder me, I’m now sitting in a murder basement in the freezing cold, wearing nothing but a bloody hospital gown, and with less than spectacular company.”

Terry rolled his eyes again. Yup, Siren was starting to feel better.

“You remember what happened earlier?”

“Do I remember you slapping the shit out of me in the elevator, Kevin? Yes, yes I **do** remember that.”

“Stop with the attitude, Siren. I did what I had to in order to save your life,” Terry said, “Not that you appreciate it. Your life was in danger, and so I acted.”

“Just because I hate **you**, and every other person in this damn lab, doesn’t mean they have any right to just kill me,” Siren muttered, “Vess had better fire them all.”

Terry stopped bandaging his leg and turned the flashlight back on Siren. “You think they’re trying to kill you just because you’re a rude little toad?” he asked incredulously.

“Why else would they want me dead? I barely even leave my research lab.”

Terry blinked down at him, feeling an odd sort of pity. “You really remember nothing,” he stated.

“What are you talking about?” Siren demanded, “I never forget anything, stupid, I have an eidetic memory.”

Terry shot him an unimpressed look. “What did you have for supper last night?”

Siren hesitated as he couldn’t remember eating anything besides Terry’s stolen lunch. “I didn’t have supper,” he answered.

“What happened after you stole my lunch yesterday?” Terry demanded.

“Is this your way of reminding me that I owe you a lunch?” Siren asked, “How petty can you get, Kevin?”

“Petty, Siren? Seriously? Everything you **do** is out of pettiness and vindictiveness,” Terry snapped, “And no, this isn’t about the stolen lunch; I don’t care about that any more. Tell me what happened **after** that.”

“Why?”

“Just humour me.”

Siren heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes. “You were angry at me about the lunch and wallet, and girl-Kevin stopped you from hitting me. I wanted to go back to work, but for some reason she kept talking to me. She asked about my academy days…”

Siren hesitated and then frowned. “She wanted to know where I learned to pickpocket but...I couldn’t remember…”

Siren went silent for a moment as confusion crossed his face. “Ted...something happened with Ted. He was...wrong.”

“What happened with Ted?” Terry prompted.

Siren remembered throwing a pen at Ted, and then feeling utter horror and confusion, but he couldn’t remember why that was. Why couldn’t he remember? What was wrong with Ted? 

“Ted was…” Siren trailed off, not knowing how to answer that question. “...wrong.”

“How was he wrong?” Terry asked, genuinely curious.

Siren then shook his head, frustrated at his fuzzy memories. “I’ll buy you a new damn lunch, Kevin.”

“I don’t care about that,” Terry repeated as he fastened the bandages around his leg. “What happened after Ted?”

Siren clenched his hand more tightly against the fabric of Terry’s shirt. Siren couldn’t really remember what had happened, but he remembered the emotions. He remembered feeling confusion, then fear, and then a deep fury. After that all he remembered was pain, and then cold. Why had he been cold? Siren focused on that memory, and he remembered a cold so bitter it hurt, and then something warm and sticky on his hands. There was red and white all around him, and a deep sadness that felt like it was going to consume him. A tune was playing through his mind and he didn’t even realize he began to hum it until Terry gave him a sharp shake.

“Siren?” he questioned. “Are you still with me? Can you hear me?”

Siren stared at him, his expression confused and Terry regretted bringing any of this up.

“I don’t remember,” Siren finally replied, “Why don’t I remember? What happened?”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pressed you on this,” Terry answered.

Siren brought his knees up and rested his chin on them as he fought to remember anything from the night before. The cold had been painful, and Siren remembered it had paled in comparison to the pain he felt within his mind. The red and white filled his mind, and Siren hesitantly looked up at Terry.

“...I was outside,” he said.

Terry paused from wrapping his arm, and he gave a hesitant nod. “You were,” he confirmed.

“Kevin...**you** were there.”

“I was.”

“There was red...it was everywhere...the red was hot and sticky...and...it was blood.”

This time Terry didn’t answer and Siren quickly looked himself over for an injury. “But not mine…whose…?”

Terry was worried this line of thinking was going to make Siren begin to disassociate, and so he tried to change the subject. “It’s freezing down here, you should wrap back up in your blankets.”

Siren silently shook his head, his gaze turning to the dimly lit room. “It hurts to remember,” he admitted, “What’s wrong with me?”

Terry was in no way qualified to answer that question and had no idea how to respond. “You’re a rude, mouthy, spoiled little brat,” he supplied, still trying to distract Siren from this line of thinking. “You’re unpleasant to absolutely everyone, you throw things at people, you yell at people, and you purposely try to belittle everyone you speak to. There’s a **lot** wrong with you.”

Siren scowled and kicked him hard in the thigh. “Go to hell, Kevin.”

“Believe me, I’m already there,” Terry replied, rubbing at his leg.

Siren let out a furious huff and edged away from him on the cot, turning his back to the other man. Terry noted that despite Siren’s angry body language, he still didn’t release hold of his shirt.

“You must be freezing,” Terry commented, glancing at Siren’s bare feet. 

“I’m fine,” Siren replied, sounding a bit petulant.

“Suit yourself,” Terry replied as he set the first aid kit aside.

Removing his helmet, Terry dropped it down to the floor, and Siren glanced over at him. He stared at Terry’s short blond hair and blue eyes and then shook his head.

“No, I don’t like it, put it back on,” he ordered. “Kevins wear helmets.”

Terry rolled his eyes and ignored him as he adjusted himself more comfortably on the cot. Reaching for the blankets, he draped them over his shoulders, the bitter air in the basement almost unbearable. Terry watched Siren sit there stubbornly as the smaller man shook from the cold, and Terry wondered how long he would last. He watched him for twenty minutes or so in silence, and then heaved a sigh.

“Honestly, Siren,” Terry commented, “Don’t make my job harder than it has to be. Come here before you freeze to death.”

“I said I’m fine,” Siren snapped.

Siren then let out a startled yelp when Terry reached out and pulled him over beside him.

“Stop it!” Siren ordered, struggling against him.

Siren’s skin was icy cold to the touch, and Terry pulled him in tight so they could share the blankets. Despite his show of protesting, Terry noted Siren didn’t actually try that hard to get away from him. Now that Siren was pressed up beside him, he could feel how cold the other man was, and hoped he didn’t already have hypothermia.

“Just a second,” Terry told him, pulling his backpack over.

He dug through the backpack for a few minutes and then removed a thick and warm sweater. He shoved it into Siren’s arms, and then set the bag aside.

“Put that on,” he ordered. “My mother knitted it for me, and it’s incredibly warm.”

“It smells like cigarettes,” Siren commented with a grimace.

“Yeah, because you drove me to take up smoking, you little shit. Do you have **any** idea how stressful it is working as your guard?”

Siren slipped the sweater on without further protest, and then pulled it over his knees as he continued shivering. The sweater was enormous on him, and it made Siren seem even smaller than he was. Although amused, Terry didn’t comment, not wanting to start a fight.

“Have you called Vess yet?” Siren demanded, “When is he coming back?”

“I tried to call him, but I think he has his phone turned off,” Terry replied, “Either that or he’s somewhere without signal.”

“Vess needs to hire better staff,” Siren muttered.

“Well, at least **I’m** not trying to kill you,” Terry pointed out.

Siren glanced at him, and then nodded. “True...I suppose. I still don’t like you though.”

“I expected no less, Siren,” Terry replied, “Now, I have to turn the flashlight off to save the battery, alright?”

Siren immediately stiffened in fear and he shook his head. “No, no, no!” he protested, “I’m sorry for saying that! Don’t turn it off! **Please** don’t turn it off!”

“I’m not turning it off to be mean,” Terry responded with a frown. “We don’t know how long we’re going to be down here for, and I want to make the flashlight last as long as possible.”

“No, keep it on!” Siren begged.

Terry actually felt a little bad and shook his head. “Sorry, but you’ll just have to deal with a bit of darkness. Take a nap or something if it bothers you that bad.”

“No, Kevin, please don’t-”

Siren cut off when Terry turned off the flashlight. Terry felt him begin to shake, and immediately Siren’s breathing began to speed up.

“I’m still here, and you’re still safe,” Terry assured him. 

Siren gripped onto him so hard that Terry winced, and then reached down to pry Siren’s hands away from his side.

“No!” Siren cried out in a panic, latching on with even more force, his nails digging into Terry’s skin.

“Ow, knock it off!” Terry yelled angrily, “You don’t have to hold on **that** tightly!”

Terry pulled at Siren’s hands whose reaction to that was to throw his arms around Terry’s torso to make sure he couldn’t go anywhere. This didn’t hurt at least, and although it annoyed him, he cut Siren a bit of slack, knowing how terrified of the dark the other man was. Terry leaned back against the wall, intending on napping for as long as possible when he suddenly felt something wet on the front of his shirt. He frowned and reached down, his fingers gently feeling along Siren’s damp cheeks.

“Are you **crying**?” he asked in disbelief.

“**No**!” Siren snarled with a bit too much venom to be believable.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Terry assured him, “I’m here to protect you, and nothing is going to get you as long as I’m here. You’re not going to be hurt, and you’re going to be just fine.”

“I’m **not** crying!” Siren protested, his shaky voice giving him away.

“Well, okay then,” Terry responded in amusement. “Whatever you say.”

“...I hate you, Kevin,”

Terry heaved a sigh, and didn’t bother responding. He had a feeling this was going to be a really long couple days.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Terry wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep, but when he woke, his neck was stiff and one of his legs had pins and needles. Reaching up a hand to rub at his neck, he let out a yawn and then reached down towards his leg. He quickly found the reason his leg was numb was because Siren was using it as a pillow. He could feel every breath Siren took, and it was deep and even, and so Terry knew he was asleep. Needing to find the bathroom, Terry **very** gently reached down and began shifting Siren off his leg. Siren was still clutching his shirt, but his grip was loose and Terry carefully pried his shirt out of his fingers, and then quietly slipped off the cot. 

Turning on the flashlight, he glanced down at Siren briefly, and then crossed the room to look for a bathroom. After opening a few doors, he found a tiny bathroom and hoped the plumbing still worked. Reaching out a hand, he pressed down on the handle of the toilet, and was relieved when it flushed. Entering the bathroom, he closed the door, and had **just** sat down when he suddenly heard Siren call out for him in a panic.

“Kevin?”

Terry let out a groan.

“Kevin?!”

Terry rolled his eyes, knowing this was bound to get annoying very quickly.

“**Kevin**?!” Siren was clearly starting to panic, and so Terry called out to him.

“I’m just in the bathroom, I’ll be out in a minute!”

Siren went silent for a moment and then there was the sound of something crashing to the floor and shattering. Terry let out another groan. Why did his every interaction with Siren have to be so exasperating?

“Stay on the cot!” he called out, “You’re going to hurt yourself. I’ll be back in a minute, just stay where you are.”

“Kevin?” Siren called out again, his voice slightly closer.

“Dammit, Siren, can I just have two minutes of privacy? Go back to the cot!”

There was another crash, and then a yelp from Siren. Terry was annoyed, and wished he hadn’t forgotten to sedate the other man. Things would have been **so** much easier that way.

“...ow,” Siren complained quietly from nearby.

“What happened?” Terry demanded, “Did you fall?”

“...no.”

When there was a third crash, Terry let out a frustrated curse. “Go back to the cot, Siren, **now**.”

There was a suspicious pause of silence and Terry narrowed his eyes at the door, not liking the fact Siren didn’t answer. He then saw a shadow underneath the bathroom door, and he sighed.

“Siren, are standing outside the bathroom door?” he demanded.

“...no,” Siren answered directly from the other side of the door.

Terry heaved another sigh, having a feeling Siren was sitting in the small bit of light coming from underneath the bathroom door. Reaching out, he locked the door, wanting at least that amount of privacy.

“What did you trip over?” Terry asked, “Are you hurt?”

“...no.”

Siren was sounding a bit off, and Terry hoped he wasn’t starting to disassociate.

“Are you okay?”

“...no.”

Terry finished using the toilet and then flushed, turning his attention to the sink. Turning on the water, it ran black for a few seconds before turning clear. To his surprise, the water was warm, and he wondered how that was possible without electricity. Reaching for the petrified bar of soap, he washed his hands, and then finally unlocked the bathroom door. When he pushed open the door, it bumped Siren’s knees who was sitting there waiting for him.

Terry shone the light on him, and he quickly saw Siren’s eyes were unfocused and he seemed somewhat confused.

“Siren?” Terry questioned.

Siren looked up at him.

“Are you alright?”

“...no,” Siren repeated for the fifth time.

Siren was still speaking which was good, but Terry knew this could easily lead to Siren fully disassociating. Reaching down, he pulled Siren to his feet, and then pressed the flashlight into his hands.

“The bathroom works,” he told him, shoving him towards the room. “I’ll wait here for you.”

Siren didn’t answer, his expression still looking confused, and Terry wondered if this is what normally happened when Siren began forgetting things. Siren simply stared at him, and so Terry pushed him into the bathroom and then closed the door.

Leaning against the door as he waited, Terry wondered how long they were going to have to remain in the lower basement. He had only packed enough food to last a few days, and if he had to share with Siren, that wasn’t going to last very long. Siren barely ever ate anything, and Terry had a feeling the other man wouldn’t want anything. Terry wasn’t certain what caused Siren’s disinterest in food, but Vess was always fighting with him to get him to eat something. Siren was terribly underweight, and Terry knew that unless he bullied him into eating, he’d likely get sick before Vess’ return.

Terry waited five minutes calmly, but after ten and then fifteen, he began getting a bit impatient. He gave a knock to the door.

“Siren? You fall asleep in there?”

There was no answer.

Terry knocked a bit louder.

“Can you please answer me so I at least know you’re not dead?”

There was no reply.

“Siren, if you don’t answer me, I’m coming in,” Terry warned.

He waited a few seconds and then let out a sigh. Opening the bathroom door, he was met with the sight of Siren standing in front of the sink, simply watching the water spin down the drain. His hands were covered in soap, and it was obvious he’d been in the process of washing his hands when he’d suddenly stopped. He was humming quietly to himself as he watched the water, and Terry was instantly wary.

“Siren?” Terry questioned.

Siren didn’t look up.

Terry looked him over and when he didn’t see any signs of a weapon, he cautiously approached. Reaching out, he placed a hand on Siren’s shoulder who flinched back like he was startled. He turned to stare at Terry with wide eyes, and for a just a moment there was no recognition in his eyes. He then blinked and gave Terry a dirty look.

“I don’t need a damn Kevin in the bathroom with me,” Siren snapped as he finished washing his hands. 

Relieved Siren had snapped out of it, Terry said nothing, simply waiting for Siren to finish. Siren glared at him as he turned off the tap and he then wiped his wet hands across Terry’s arm to dry them.

“God dammit, Siren,” Terry cursed, glancing down at his wet arm, “Why are you always such a nasty little shit?”

Siren gave him a shrug as he shone the flashlight at the huge mess on the floor of the lab. There was shattered glass and broken pieces of plastic strewn across the room, and Terry assumed Siren had tripped over several medical carts when he’d been stumbling around in the dark. 

“Here, let me see the flashlight for a second,” Terry ordered, “You’re in your bare feet and I’ll clear the glass away.”

Siren jerked the flashlight out of his reach and then headed through the glass without a single word. Terry let out a deep sigh and followed, having a feeling Siren was going to regret that decision. Siren seemed a lot calmer than he was before, and he assumed it was probably because he had temporary control of the flashlight. Hoping it wasn’t going to be a battle to get it from him, he watched as Siren carefully stepped around the glass. Terry kicked most of the glass aside to make a path, noticing that Siren was once again shaking from the cold.

They could see their breath, and Terry worried they’d freeze to death if it got much colder.

“The temperature must be dropping outside,” Terry stated, “We should stay covered up as much as possible.”

Siren flashed him a look that said ‘no shit’ but he didn’t comment, instead taking a seat on the cot. Sitting cross-legged, Siren rubbed at his frozen feet as Terry took a seat beside him. Siren was so cold that he edged over without protest, allowing Terry to wrap the blankets over their shoulders.

“We can’t keep that flashlight on for too long,” Terry advised him.

Siren clutched the flashlight so tightly, his knuckles turned white, and Terry frowned but didn’t comment. He instead reached down and pulled up his backpack as Siren watched him warily. Terry dug around inside for a moment and then pulled out a couple thermoses.

“Are you hungry?” Terry asked.

“No,” Siren replied, “I’m fine.”

“You haven’t eaten since yesterday,” Terry pointed out, “You **must** be hungry!”

Siren shook his head and hugged his arms to his chest, shivering uncontrollably. Terry saw Siren was once again looking a bit confused, and he hoped the other man wasn’t going to start disassociating. Terry held a thermos out towards him, but Siren made no move to take it.

“Come on, you have to eat something,” Terry urged.

Siren’s response was to flop over onto his side, clearly having no intention of eating. Terry stared down at him for a moment, and set the thermoses aside, inside reaching into his bag for a sandwich.

“I have a few sandwiches if you want one,” he invited.

Siren didn’t respond, simply humming to himself as he clutched the flashlight tightly.

“We can’t keep that light on,” Terry stated, taking a bite of his sandwich. “Please turn it off.”

Siren ignored him, his grip not loosening from the flashlight. Terry had a feeling this was going to be a battle, and decided to allow him to keep the light on for a few minutes until he was finished eating. Although Terry could have eaten several sandwiches, he limited himself to just one, not knowing for sure how long they were going to be trapped in the basement. He set his backpack down on the floor and then glanced down at Siren, hoping the other man wouldn’t give him a hard time about the light.

“We need to turn off the light now,” Terry said firmly, “The batteries won’t last long if we’re not careful.”

Siren didn’t answer or even look at him.

“Are you okay?” Terry asked with a frown.

Siren said nothing and so Terry slowly reached out for the flashlight. Siren's reaction was instantaneous and he kicked Terry as hard as he could, gripping the flashlight against his chest.

“Ow, what the **hell**, Siren?” Terry snapped, angrily.

Not having the patience to deal with a Siren tantrum, Terry reached over and yanked the flashlight away from the smaller man, Siren immediately kicking out at him again.

“Kick me again, you little shit, and I **swear** I’ll hit you back!” Terry warned. “Don’t think I won’t!”

Terry then flicked the light off, and Siren was immediately clinging to him again. Terry let out a sigh of resignation, knowing that it was at least better than being kicked.

“How are you feeling?” Terry asked, “Are those sedatives still in your system?”

Siren still didn’t answer, and Terry frowned when he felt how cold the other man was. Even with the sweater, Siren’s whole body felt icy to the touch, and Terry assumed it was probably because he was too thin to hold much body heat. If it got much colder, Terry would have to search for more blankets before they both froze to death.

“Let me know when you get hungry,” Terry ordered, “You can’t go days without eating something.”

Siren said nothing, but his grip on Terry’s shirt tightened ever so slightly. Whenever Siren got quiet like this, it was reason to be concerned, and Terry **really** hoped Siren wouldn’t kill him in his sleep. Now that the thought was in his mind, Terry became a bit nervous, knowing he’d be completely helpless if Siren disassociated during the night. Placing a hand on Siren’s shoulder, he intended on keeping his hand there so he could feel the moment Siren tried to get up.

Having nothing else to do, Terry dozed off and on for a while, hoping Siren would do the same. When Terry awoke cold after a particularly long nap, he stretched, wondering why it had gotten so cold. He then reached down and was shocked to discover Siren was gone. Sitting up abruptly, he felt around the cot and realized Siren had stolen the flashlight.

“...that little shit!” Terry muttered, fumbling in his pocket for his cellphone. 

Turning on the light, he shone it around the room, but there was no sign of Siren anywhere. Thinking he’d perhaps gone to the bathroom, Terry crossed the room, and then stared at the open bathroom door. Terry heaved a sigh, and glanced towards the hallway. Where would Siren have gone? He was terrified of the dark, and so what would have made him leave on his own?

Terry furrowed his brow in annoyance and then left the room to begin searching for the other man.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The beam of the flashlight was incredibly bright and Siren felt better about being in the basement when he could clearly see. The air was frigid, and his bare feet were already numb from the cold. It was the cold that made him leave the cot, and he went from room to room, looking for something that could be used for warmth. Almost everything was destroyed from the fire, and Siren stepped over debris as he passed through a few rooms.

Siren knew Terry had saved his life, and honestly wasn’t quite sure what to think about that. Siren had been in the lab for ten years, and he’d seen dozens of guards come and go, and it seemed pointless to be friendly to them. Why bother getting to know someone who could be reassigned at any moment? The only constant in his life was Dr. Vess, and they didn’t exactly get along. They didn’t hate each other, but they also weren’t friends. They were lab partners, and although they worked well together, that was as far as their personal relationship went. He and Vess respected one another, but they didn’t particularly like each other.

Siren knew he was probably lonely, but he’d honestly never really considered it before. He mostly just threw himself into his work, and tried not to think about too much of anything. Terry had lasted the longest out of any of his guards and he was surprised the man hadn’t quit or gotten himself fired yet. He thought Terry hated him, but yet the other man had still saved his life. He could have easily allowed the other guards to kill him, but instead he put his own life in danger in order to protect him. He didn’t really understand it, and Siren doubted he would ever be able to. Siren didn’t understand other people, and found them to be irritating and confusing. He knew he was probably better off by himself, but had to admit he now owed Terry his life.

Siren hummed to himself as he walked, not afraid as long as the flashlight was on. Siren soon found himself near the burnt out patient rooms, and like before, he found himself pausing to stare at them. He got a weird feeling as he stared at them, and he reached out a hand towards one of the doors. Pulling it fully open, he gazed into the blackened room, his eyes taking in the sight of the ruined furniture and piles of ash on the floor.

Running a hand through his hair, Siren felt like this room in particular was somehow important. Rubbing a hand across the metal plate on the door, he stared at the two engraved letters with a frown. Y.V. What did this mean? Why did that seem to pull on his memories in an uncomfortable way? He could feel a memory trying to force its way through the fog, and Siren’s humming became a bit louder as he ran his fingers over the letters.

Y.V.

Siren stared into the room, and for just a moment he saw a small red-haired boy staring back at him. Siren jumped back, and rubbed at his eyes, but when he looked back, there was nothing there. He frowned, as he realized the boy was a memory.

Y.V.

This boy was Y.V.

Siren felt a deep sadness that he didn’t understand, and the face of the boy was now all he could think of. The boy was thin, and although only eleven or twelve, he was the same height as Siren. He pictured the boy’s pale and sad face, his freckles, and his vibrant blue eyes, and Siren wished he could remember who he was. The boy was important, but felt like a ghost; there and not there at the same time. Feeling a building pressure in his head, Siren rubbed at his temples, and rested a hand on the door with a frown. Why was it so hard to remember? What happened down in this basement?

Siren began to softly sing as a way to distract himself, and he turned away from the room, feeling a sudden sense of unease that made him shiver. He felt an odd heaviness in his mind, and he was frightened by it. There was a distinctly dark feeling that came from the fog, and he wasn’t certain he wanted to mess with that just yet. Something was telling him he wasn’t meant to remember, but it was frustrating and confusing.

Siren sang to himself as he walked along the hallways, knowing he couldn’t remain in this cold for too much longer. Everything around him seemed familiar to him now that he could see, and Siren found himself walking in a particular direction, allowing instincts to take over. His mind seemed to know exactly where to go, and he walked hallway after hallway until coming to a large room filled with cabinets. His mind supplied him with the information that this was a nurses supply room, and he glanced around, seeing the room was covered in ash. 

He began opening cabinets and almost everything was ruined from the fire. Still singing to himself, he searched the room, and finally came to a large closet. Opening the door, he was met with the sight of a dead Kevin and let out a startled shriek and dropped the flashlight. Clutching his chest and taking a few deep breaths, he knelt down to pick up the flashlight. The glass had a crack in it, and now the light was blinking on and off like a strobe light. He gave it a shake, but it only made it worse.

Letting out a curse, he turned the light back on the body and stared at it in revulsion. The body didn’t appear to be burnt, and it was curled up on its side like it had simply laid down and died. Siren stared for a few seconds and then realized the Kevin had tried to hide in the closet during the chaos and probably died of smoke inhalation. 

Siren glanced past the body and saw what he was looking for. Sealed in airtight plastic were blankets used for the patients. Or at least they **used** to be for the patients. Stepping around the body with a grimace, Siren ventured into the closet, glad that at least the body didn’t seem to have a bad smell. Reaching up for one of the blankets, he realized he couldn’t reach, and he cursed his short height vehemently. Letting out a sigh, he gripped the shelf and climbed up, tossing down five of the heavy blankets.

Just as Siren was climbing back down, the closet door closed. Siren turned the light towards the door, and then ran for it, already panicking. To his horror, the door wouldn’t open, and he now knew how the Kevin on the floor had died. Siren banged on the door as hard as he could, and felt terror completely consume him. Terry would never find him here. He was going to die in this closet next to the dead Kevin.

It was then that the flashlight decided to go dead and Siren immediately shrieked in absolute terror. He banged and clawed at the door, but it didn’t so much as budge. Hyperventilating, Siren screamed and pounded at the door, the darkness feeling like it was smothering him. 

Suddenly the door opened and Siren fell face first onto the floor at Terry’s feet. Siren stared up at him in terror, but quickly calmed when he saw who it was. He scrambled away from the closet and then hid behind Terry, just wanting to put as much distance between himself and the closet as possible.

“Siren, what the hell are you doing?” Terry demanded, glancing behind him at the smaller man. “Why did you leave the cot?”

Siren didn’t answer, and Terry shone his phone’s light into the closet. When he saw the body, he shot Siren an accusing look, but then he realized the body looked like it had been there for years. 

“What happened?” Terry demanded. “Where’s the flashlight?”

Siren silently held up the broken flashlight, and Terry snatched it and then turned it off and on, cursing when it didn’t work.

“Oh, this is just brilliant!” he snapped, “You broke our only flashlight! Great job, Siren, great job!”

Siren scowled up at him. “Shut up, Kevin! The dead Kevin startled me and I dropped it! It could have happened to **anyone**.”

“No, only **you** would be enough of a little shit to leave the safety of the cot to wander around getting hypothermia!” Terry responded angrily. “Are you hurt?”

Siren shook his head, and Terry was tempted to throttle him, knowing how big of a loss the flashlight would be.

“Do **not** leave my sight again, do you hear me?” Terry said, his tone not to be reckoned with. “I can’t protect you if you’re doing stupid things like this!”

Siren was instantly offended.

“Oh, shut up, Kevin!” he snapped, “No one can get down here! I was perfectly safe!”

“You accidentally locked yourself in a closet like a toddler,” Terry pointed out.

Siren flushed in embarrassment, and he quickly lost his temper. Without thinking of the consequences of such an action, he hauled off and kicked Terry hard in the back of the kneecap. Terry let out a grunt of pain, and stumbled forward, and Siren grabbed a nearby piece of broken wood and lifted it over his head to throw it, fully intending on having a tantrum like he normally did. 

That idea was abruptly cut off however, when Terry suddenly seized him by the front of his shirt, and raised his hand like he was going to hit him. Siren instantly lost all bravado and he dropped the piece of wood to the floor, and covered his face, waiting for the blows to start raining down. 

Terry stared down at him angrily for a moment, and then heaved a loud and impatient sigh at the sight of the cowering scientist. Without a single word, he gave Siren a sharp swat across the back of the head, and Siren yelped in surprise, and instantly reached back to rub at his head.

Terry then wagged a finger at him like he was scolding a child, expression fed up.

“Do it again, Siren, I dare you. Hit me again.”

Siren glanced up at him with wide eyes and then averted his gaze sullenly.

“That’s what I thought.” Terry responded. “Now, are you going to tell me why I just spent the last thirty minutes looking for you?”

“...I found some more blankets.” Siren replied, still looking away.

Terry shone the light into the closet and saw the blankets laying on the floor. Knowing they would still be perfectly usable from being sealed in plastic, he gave Siren a surprised look.

“Why didn’t you just tell me you knew where more blankets were?” Terry demanded. “I would have gone with you, and then none of this would have happened.”

Siren gave him a puzzled look. “Why would I ask **you** for help? You’re just a **Kevin**.”

Terry simply shook his head. “Siren, you are the absolute **worst**.”

Without another word, Terry entered the closet and scooped up the five blankets. They were heavy, and he knew they would be warm. Shifting them awkwardly into one arm, he handed Siren the phone, and then seized him by the back of the shirt.

“Go,” Terry ordered, “I’m keeping you where I can see you.”

Siren struggled a bit against being frogmarched like an errant toddler, but Terry’s grip couldn’t be broken. Siren had no choice but to walk along with him, holding the light so they could both see. When they got back to their room, Terry gave Siren a shove towards the cot, who stumbled and then turned to glare up at him.

“On the cot,” Terry ordered, “I’m fed up, and I suggest you don’t push me too far.”

Siren was cold and so he took a seat on the cot and wrapped himself in the blankets. He didn’t realize how cold he’d been until that moment, and he began shaking uncontrollably, unable to warm himself up. He watched as Terry used a pocketknife to open the packaged blankets, and then Terry immediately wrapped the first one around Siren’s shoulders. The blanket was heavy and warm, and once a second one was added, Siren could finally feel himself starting to warm up a bit. Once all blankets had been opened, Terry crawled up beside Siren, and they wrapped themselves in all five blankets, sitting close to share body heat.

“Let me see the flashlight,” Siren ordered.

“It’s broken,” Terry responded, “Something came loose inside and I can hear it rattling around.”

“Just let me see it.”

Terry handed it over without protest and then watched as Siren began disassembling the flashlight. Siren removed piece after piece out of the casing until he found the piece that had broken off.

“Let me see your knife for a second.”

“Like **hell**, Siren!” Terry responded, not wanting it to end up stabbed into his throat.

“Give me the damn knife, Kevin!” Siren snarled impatiently, “Do you want this flashlight repaired or not?”

Terry hesitated, and stared down at Siren warily. Siren certainly seemed completely lucid at the moment, but that could change quickly. 

“Tell me what to do, and **I** will handle the knife,” Terry said firmly, “You’re not touching my knife or any **other** weapon during my watch.”

Siren looked ready to say something nasty, but surprisingly enough, he showed a bit of restraint. “This piece of metal needs to be bent back into place,” he responded, handing over a tiny part.

Terry stared at the part and had no idea what it was. Taking his knife out, he very carefully bent the part back into place, and then he handed it back to Siren. Siren flashed him a glare, but said nothing as he began reassembling the flashlight. Once it was back together, he turned it on and to Terry’s surprise it worked.

“You fixed it!” he exclaimed in surprise.

“I create vaccines and research diseases, I should I **hope** I’d be able to fix a damn flashlight.” Siren snapped, clutching the light tightly.

Terry knew those skills were not in any way related, but he didn’t comment. He knew Siren was a genius, but he honestly didn’t get to see him do much most of the time. Siren mostly got stuck doing paperwork which made him bored and irritable, and then he was an absolute asshole to everyone around him.

“We still need to save the battery of that flashlight,” he pointed out.

Siren didn’t answer and so Terry reached over and snatched it out of his hands.

“HEY!” Siren protested furiously.

“Are you hungry yet?” Terry demanded.

“No.” Siren snapped.

“You need to eat something,” Terry told him with a frown. “It’s been nearly two days now since you’ve eaten.”

“I’m not hungry,” Siren responded impatiently. “I’ll eat when I want to.”

Terry rolled his eyes and flicked the light off.

Siren said nothing, and simply buried himself within the blankets, still shivering as one of his hands clutched Terry’s shirt tightly. Terry lit a cigarette, his nerves completely shot, and he focused on calming down. Siren was an unpleasant asshole, but Terry would still keep him safe. It took two more cigarettes before Terry finally relaxed. He texted his wife in silence for a while, and when he next checked on Siren, he found him sound asleep. Hoping he would stay that way for a good long while, Terry simply sat in the dark in silence, not trusting Siren to stay where he was supposed to.

Siren slept for most of the night, and when Terry could hear the other man’s stomach growling, he let out a sigh. Siren was obviously hungry, but yet, like with everything else, Siren had to make things difficult. Reaching down to his backpack, he pulled out his two thermoses, and then reached over to shake Siren awake.

Siren gave a jerk of surprise when Terry shook him, and when he woke up to complete darkness, he let out a startled gasp.

“You need to eat something **now**.” Terry ordered. “You’re going to get sick.”

“Turn the light on!” Siren begged, his hand tightening on the edge of Terry’s shirt.

Terry obliged and turned the flashlight on and Siren instantly calmed down, reaching for it. Terry allowed him to take it, and then held out a thermos towards him.

“Here, you need to eat. Your stomach is growling.”

Siren buried himself in the blankets again, finally warm and just wanting to remain there. Terry pulled the blankets away and an icy blast of cold hit Siren like a slap and he jumped.

“You are going to eat something,” Terry told him firmly.

“What the **hell ** is with you, Kevin?” Siren demanded angrily. “Your job is to guard, **not** to badger me about my eating habits! Why the hell do you think you have the right to nag me?! I told you I’m not hungry and so let it drop.”

“No, you’re going to eat **now** before you get sick,” Terry responded, “Now, stop being a colossal asshole, and just do as you’re told!”

Siren hated being nagged over things and he flashed him an annoyed look. “Mind your own business, Kevin,” he snapped, “Your job is to **guard**, but apparently that concept is too difficult for you, since you already lost me once!”

Terry felt himself get angry. “Why do you hate me so much?” he demanded, “I’ve done **nothing** but keep you alive, you ungrateful goblin! I fought to get you to safety, I got shot twice, and I am now freezing my ass off down in this disgusting basement, but do you care? Of course not! You appreciate **nothing** done for you just like a spoiled child!”

Siren started to speak, but Terry quickly interrupted him.

“Not a word!” he snarled, “I’ve put up with this attitude for SIX months and now you’re going to listen to what I have to say!”

Siren stared at him with wide eyes, clearly not expecting such a strong reaction to his words.

“I know you have quite a few ‘issues’ but that is **no** excuse for how you treat people!” Terry scolded, “You go out of your way to be a nasty little troll to everyone you meet and it’s ridiculous that you get away with it! The whole facility caters to your every whim, and if anything happens that you don’t like, you have a tantrum and throw things like a **child** ! I have three boys at home who act better than you do! I have no idea why Dr. Vess tolerates your behaviour, but I’m through dealing with it. You are going to be quiet, and you are going to do as you’re told, or I **swear** I’m going to smack you upside the head, do you understand?”

Siren simply stared at him, and Terry scowled.

“Six months I put up with the abuse, Siren, **six** months. **No more** . I am a **person** , and I’m through being treated like an object. Do you think I don’t feel, that I don’t care what people say to me? All I want is a little basic human decency from you. You have no friends, no family, and you’re **always** alone. Perhaps if you treated people a little nicer, you wouldn’t be so lonely. Now let me do my job, and keep you safe.”

Siren said nothing at all, but his eyes were looking suspiciously bright. Terry now felt like a heel, knowing how overly sensitive the other man was. He didn’t regret his words however, knowing everything he said to be true.

“You need to eat something,” Terry said firmly, “My wife packed some food, and I’ll share it with you.”

Siren’s expression turned angry in an instant, clearly over the shock of being scolded like a child. He pointedly looked away from Terry, and still said nothing.

Terry unscrewed the lid of one of the thermoses, and glanced inside it. “Here, have some homemade soup,” he invited, “It will help warm you up.”

“I’ve tried your wife’s cooking, and so I’ll pass,” Siren responded rudely.

“Dammit, Siren,” Terry said in frustration, “Just eat the stupid soup before I decide to drown you in it!”

Terry pressed the thermos into Siren’s hands who, upon realizing it was warm to the touch, clutched it like a lifeline. Terry opened the second thermos and took a gulp of the soup within, instantly feeling a little bit warmer. He watched Siren as the other man held the thermos for a minute or so before giving a sniff to the soup. Terry didn’t comment, just waiting to see if he was actually going to try it. To his surprise Siren hesitantly lifted the thermos to his lips and tried a tiny sip of the hot soup.

“Well?” Terry demanded, “It’s good, isn’t it?”

Siren took another sip, the soup actually **very** good. “It’s...edible,” he finally responded.

Terry rolled his eyes. “We need to turn off the flashlight now,” he instructed, “We’ve already had it on for too long.”

Siren tightened his grip on the flashlight and then shook his head.

Terry let out a sigh. “You know there’s nothing to be afraid of,” he said in a gentle tone, “I’m not going anywhere. There’s nothing in the dark that can hurt you.”

Siren glanced over at him. “There’s always something hiding in the dark.”

Terry furrowed his brow. “There’s not,” he assured him, “Why are you so afraid of being in the dark?”

Siren took another sip of the soup and Terry thought he wasn’t going to answer. Siren hesitated for a few moments before he finally replied.

“I was here before.”

“What do you mean? Here? As in here in this basement?”

Siren nodded.

“Did something happen?” Terry asked.

“What the hell do you think?” Siren snapped, “Look at the state of this basement, and then take a guess.”

“It burned,” Terry stated, “The whole building burned to the ground and people say that you were the one responsible for it.”

Siren went quiet again for a moment. “I don’t remember much,” he admitted, “It **hurts** when I try to remember. I don’t understand why so many of my memories seem to be gone. It’s like they’re hidden behind a thick fog that I can’t see through.”

Terry wondered if Dr. Vess knew about any of this. “What can you remember?” he asked, genuinely curious. “What happened?”

Siren screwed the cap back on the thermos, but continued holding it for the warmth. “I remember darkness,” he replied, “Darkness and screams.”

Siren’s gaze was distant as he spoke, and Terry wasn’t certain the smaller man was still shaking from the cold or whether it was from fear.

“The darkness was choking, and I was afraid, but I don’t remember what of. The screams of people burning were all around me…”

Terry grimaced at the imagery, and now wondered if Siren’s dissociative reality disorder was caused by trauma. That would actually explain a lot about Siren if he never got the professional help he needed at the time. 

“I’m sorry,” Terry said, “I shouldn’t have asked about this. You don’t have to talk about it if you don't want to.”

Siren began rocking back and forth, his gaze distant, and it was clear he didn’t hear Terry speak. 

“I-I couldn’t save them,” Siren whispered, “I had to choose only one…I saved one boy. Everyone else burned, and I could do nothing about it.”

Terry reached out and gave Siren’s shoulder a gentle shake. “Okay, that’s enough,” he coaxed, “You shouldn’t think about this.”

“I covered his ears so he wouldn’t have to hear it…” Siren said quietly, “I just wanted to protect him from what was happening… I don’t know what happened to him after the fire. Did he die? Where is the boy?”

Terry shook him harder. “Siren, that’s **enough**!” he said firmly, “You’re going to make yourself unwell if you keep thinking about this. Can you look at me, please?”

Siren didn’t react to him, his eyes looking unfocused as he thought. He began humming to himself, and Terry knew they were about to have a very big problem. He shook Siren’s shoulder hard, but he didn’t react to him. Knowing the flashlight could be used as a weapon, he quickly snatched it out of his hands. He then took away the thermos as well, leaving Siren no weapons if he suddenly lashed out. 

Siren always sang the same song when he disassociated, and when he began to very quietly sing the words, Terry knew he’d messed up. If he didn’t snap Siren out of it fast, the other man was going to get violent since he was clearly terrified. Terry had quickly learned that Siren lashed out if he thought someone was a threat which is why most of his victims were guards.

Siren suddenly took a swing at him, and Terry caught the fist, only immediately to have the other one swung at him. The hit didn’t hurt much, and he pulled Siren against him, to hold him still as he pinned his arms to the side.

Siren thrashed and struggled against him, his song not pausing, and Terry knew this was heading to be a bad meltdown.

Vess tended to snap Siren out of his disassociation by slapping him over and over until it brought him out of it, but Terry didn’t want to hurt him. Siren still had a dark bruise on his cheek from when Vess had struck him, and it made Terry feel bad, knowing Siren couldn’t help it. He needed to be in a hospital where he could get the therapy and help he needed, but instead he was trapped within V.I.L.E.

Knowing how much Siren loved music, he decided to try something, and reached into his pocket to pull out his personal phone. Opening his music, he clicked play and turned the volume up. Siren continued struggling against him for a moment, but to Terry’s relief he turned to stare at the phone, going silent. When Siren stopped fighting against him, Terry hesitantly released Siren’s arms, who immediately reached for the phone. Terry allowed him to take it, and Siren turned the volume up higher, seemingly calm for the moment.

“Siren?” Terry questioned.

Siren didn’t answer, his attention entirely on the phone. Having a feeling he’d successfully averted a crisis, Terry turned the flashlight off, knowing the battery needed to be saved. Siren let out a gasp of fear when the light was turned off, and he pressed himself against Terry as tightly as he could. Luckily the light from the phone seemed to be enough to satisfy him for now, and he made no protests. They listened to his playlist for about an hour before Siren finally spoke.

“I haven’t heard a lot of this music before,” he commented.

“You’ve been in this facility for ten years,” Terry replied, “There’s probably thousands of songs you haven’t heard.”

“...I’ve missed out on a lot, haven’t I?”

“Most of that playlist is American artists. I know that you’re fluent in dozens of languages, but when you speak English it’s with an East Coast American accent. Are you American, Siren?”

He felt Siren nod against his shoulder.

“Where are you from?” Terry asked, “I’m from Maine.”

“Oh, dear god,” Siren commented.

Terry laughed. “There may not be much there, but it’s home.”

Terry reached towards the phone and then clicked on his photo app. “This is the lighthouse near where I grew up,” he explained, “Beautiful countryside.”

Siren reached out and flipped to the next photo, observing the rocky beach and ocean thoughtfully. There was a bit of snow on the beach, and a smiling woman with blond hair stood in the foreground.

“My wife, Lucy,” Terry explained.

Siren stared at the beautiful woman with the nice smile, and then let out a snort. “You married **way** out of your league,” he commented.

“Thanks,” Terry responded dryly.

Siren flipped through a few more photos before pausing on one with Terry and his whole family sitting around a Christmas tree.

“These are my boys!” Terry said proudly, “Ethan, Edward, and Eric.”

“You gave them all ‘E’ names?” Siren demanded, “Ugh...That’s terrible... those poor kids.”

Terry rolled his eyes, having a feeling Siren was just joking, and was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“I’ve worked in the lab as your guard for six months now, and I still don’t know your name,” Terry stated, “No one ever calls you anything besides Siren.”

Siren glanced up at him and then gave a shrug. “That’s because it doesn’t matter anymore,” he replied, “V.I.L.E doesn’t care who I was, only who I am now.”

“Well, I think people **should** know who you are,” Terry challenged, “What is your name and where are you from?”

Siren listened to the music for a moment in silence as he stared at the family photo. Three boys… He had a brief flash of memory of two older brothers fighting over presents under a Christmas tree, and then shook his head. He was from a family of three boys as well. Siren wished he could remember more, but his head was throbbing, and he was tired.

“New Jersey,” he finally replied, “I grew up in New Jersey.”

Siren was a little surprised by his own answer, having no memory of where he was from, but New Jersey **felt** like the right answer.

“Ok,” Terry said, feeling like this was progress, “And what is your name?”

Siren heaved a sigh, and didn’t answer. Terry frowned at him, but didn’t want to push him too far, and so he placed the thermos of soup back in his hands.

“You should try to eat a bit more,” he instructed, “You haven’t been eating much lately, and you’re going to get sick.”

To his complete surprise, Siren didn’t protest, and accepted the thermos. Terry suspected it was because the thermos was warm, and watched him to make sure he was actually going to eat something.

Siren unscrewed the cap of the thermos and then drank a bit, much to Terry’s relief. Terry then pressed a sandwich into Siren’s hand, hoping he wouldn’t refuse it. Siren stared down at the sandwich, and then began unwrapping it without a word. Terry watched as he opened the sandwich and then squinted at the ingredients with a frown.

“It’s bologna.” Terry informed him, rolling his eyes. “Guards don’t exactly earn a lot of money and it’s all my family can afford.”

Siren stared at the bologna, an odd sort of memory coming to mind. He remembered standing on a chair next to a grey haired old woman, and was watching her make rows of bologna sandwiches. He reached out to help and dropped a slice of cheese onto one of the sandwiches. She turned a gentle smile at him.

“_ Are you helping me make your big brothers’ lunches, gattino _?” she asked affectionately.

He nodded.

“_ Tomorrow you will be going to school too! _ ” she told him. “ _ You’re such a smart patatino that I know you’ll love it _!”

Siren stared at the woman’s soft and gentle face, and just like that the memory ended.

“Look, if bologna is too ‘low-class’ for you, I have a chocolate bar you can have instead.” Terry said impatiently. “Not all of us can afford expensive lunches.”

“I like bologna,” Siren stated, his tone a bit hesitant.

He closed the sandwich again, and picked up half of it and took a small bite. Terry wasn’t expecting that, and gave him a somewhat skeptical look, but didn’t comment.

“Why can you only afford bologna?” Siren asked, genuinely confused.

“I have to pay rent, bills, and support my family. Doing all that on a guard’s wage isn’t easy.”

Siren had never had to worry about money since he had no expenses, and so he couldn’t relate. He literally had no need for money, and his funds just kept building up in an account he barely used. Sometimes he would order random things through Vess’ computer, but Siren didn’t really spend money otherwise.

“How much do guards earn?” Siren asked.

“$600.” Terry responded.

“You work all day and only earn $600?!” Siren asked, completely aghast.

Terry blinked, and then grimaced. “...weekly, Siren. Guards earn $600 **weekly**.”

Siren couldn’t wrap his mind around that. “Seriously? I earn that **hourly**...”

Terry instantly felt a migraine beginning to appear and reached for a cigarette. The second he lit it, Siren wrinkled his nose at him, but surprisingly enough didn’t comment.

Siren finished half of the sandwich and then wrapped the remaining half in the plastic wrap, handing it back to Terry. Terry gave him a frown, but knew half a sandwich was better than him not eating at all, and put it away without a word. Once he was done his smoke, he watched Siren for a moment, wishing they could just get along in the workplace. He didn’t understand the way Siren acted, but knew there must be a cause of it. What exactly had happened to Siren to turn him into this nervous and angry person?

“I know you know **my** name,” Terry said hesitantly, “You pretend that no one around you matters, but you proved you knew my name when you stole my lunch the other day. Why do you insist on calling me Kevin?”

“No one matters,” Siren snapped, “**Nothing** matters. Every day is just face after face, most of which I never see again. Person after person appears and then disappears and so there’s no point in remembering who they are.”

“You know who **I** am,” Terry pointed out.

Siren looked up at him for a moment, and then looked back to the phone without answering.

“Can you please start calling me Terry?”

“No.”

“May I ask why?”

“You’re a Kevin, and Kevins die,” Siren replied with a shrug. “You won’t be around long, and there’s nothing that differentiates you from any of the other Kevins.”

Terry frowned at him. How many guards had Siren gone through in ten years to begin thinking this way? Had he killed them all, or were guards dying in ways that Terry didn’t know about? What happened with Siren before Terry was hired?

“I’m the guard who stood up to everyone else in order to save you,” Terry pointed out, “I’m also the one who is sitting in this cold and dark basement with you while keeping you company. Doesn’t **that** make me stick out from the others?”

Siren got a troubled look on his face and began to rock a bit, and Terry became curious over this. Every time Siren began to get upset he either began to rock and would find something to spin. It was almost like he did this in an attempt to calm himself down. Terry’s eyes then widened as he realized something. Was Siren stimming? Terry thought back to a lot of Siren’s mannerisms, and suddenly it made sense.

Terry pointed to one of the boys in the photo. “This is Ethan,” he explained, “He has Aspergers Syndrome.”

Siren gave him a puzzled look. “Yeah, so?”

“When he’s scared or upset about something, he tends to rock or flap his hands in an attempt to calm himself down. This is called stimming.”

Siren abruptly stopped rocking, and he narrowed his eyes. “I’m not autistic!” he snapped.

“Maybe not, but I think it’s worth mentioning to Dr. Vess,” Terry suggested, “Over the last decade or so, support for aspergers has taken strides, and I think you should look into it. There are thousands of online resources for help coping with it.”

“I’m not autistic!” Siren repeated, getting mad. “Shut up, Kevin, I’m done talking to you,”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“Unsolicited advice is rude,” Siren retorted, shoving Terry’s hands away from the phone.

Terry raised a brow. “Me? Rude? Siren, have you ever taken a look in the mirr-”

A loud metal clang came from down the hallway and they both froze.

“What...what was that?” Siren demanded, instantly clinging to Terry’s shirt.

Terry stood to his feet. “Stay here,” he ordered.

Siren tightened his grip on his shirt.

“Siren, stay here so I can go see what that was!” Terry whispered.

“You are **not** leaving me here by myself!” Siren hissed.

“I don’t know what that was, and unless you want to end up dead, stay put!” Terry ordered firmly, pulling away from Siren.

Siren clutched the phone and listened as Terry carefully crossed the room in the dark. Siren couldn’t see him, but after a few moments he could no longer hear Terry and assumed he was now out in the hallway. Siren sat perfectly still, barely daring to breathe, and he paused the music so he could listen for anything out of the ordinary.

There was another loud clang, and Siren flinched, and drew his knees up under his chin, not liking the fact he was now alone in the room. He sat there for a couple minutes, and then hesitantly got up from the cot, and stood up. Using the light from the phone, he carefully avoided the glass on the floor, and then crept over to the door. He peeked around the corner, but all he could see was darkness, and there was complete silence.

Slowly and silently making his way down the hall, the noises became more and more frequent, and when he began approaching the elevators, he could suddenly see light. Ducking into a nearby room, he peered around the corner, and watched as the elevator door suddenly opened. Six men armed with guns stepped out, and Siren felt his breath catch in his throat. Where the **hell** was Terry?! He didn’t have to wonder long because suddenly there was the sound of gunfire and two of the men dropped to the ground. 

As bullets rained through the hallway, Siren hung back, simply watching as more and more men left the elevator. He could now see that they’d cut through the roof of the elevator and were climbing down from above. There were now nearly a dozen men. There was no way Terry could win this. A moment later, a dark shape began running up the hall towards him, and Siren let out a yelp when his wrist was suddenly seized. Terry’s pale and grim face came into the light and he immediately swatted the back of Siren’s head angrily.

“I told you to stay put!” he hissed, “Do you **ever** listen?! Come on, we need to hide!”

Holding Siren by the wrist, he pulled him down the hallway as fast as he could. Yells and bullets lit the hallway around them, and Siren felt his heart beating fiercely in his chest as they ran faster and faster as the men chased after them. The smoke, darkness and gunfire was bringing up horrible images in Siren’s mind and he felt himself begin to hyperventilate in fear.

He could clearly remember the hallways they ran, the maze of the lower basement appearing in his mind with perfect clarity. He had walked these halls hundreds of times, and he could visualize what they used to look like before the fire had destroyed everything.

“Come on,” Terry ordered, tugging his arm harder, “Don’t slow down! We have to find a place to hide!”

Siren couldn’t speak, out of breath and absolutely terrified. He felt a bullet whiz past his ear, and they took a turn, narrowing avoiding a shot that landed right behind them. Shot after shot missed, the sound deafening in the basement.

Siren could remember running these same hallways, tugging a child after him, and he felt the fog in his mind fighting against him. He remembered how desperate he was to get out, the sounds of death all around him. He had been in a lot of pain at that time, his every step agonizing, but he had pushed past it to keep running.

Terry’s grip tightened on his wrist, and they kept running, knowing they wouldn’t be able to outrun them forever. Bullets ricocheted all around them, and Terry let out a hiss of pain as his shoulder was grazed. 

A light suddenly shone on them from ahead and they screeched to a halt, realizing some of the men had circled to cut them off.

“We got ‘em!” one of the men yelled out to the others.

Terry pressed Siren into the wall and stood in front of him to shield him from the other guards. Siren clutched Terry’s shirt as he hid behind him, everything seeming far too familiar. He wheezed as he fought for breath, and had no idea how they were going to get out of this alive. They were going to be shot dead by over a dozen guards.

“Come on, Terry,” one of the men called over, “We don’t want to hurt you. Just let us have the little psycho, and we’ll forget all about this. You’re one of us, and we’ll cover for you with Vess. No one will ever know you were involved.”

“Kevin?” Siren whispered, knowing they were trapped.

“Shh,” Terry scolded, keeping his eyes on the men blocking them.

“We understand that you feel loyal to your assigned job, but you **know** this needs to be done,” one of the men said, “He barely even counts as a person. He’d so fucking broken that killing him is a mercy.”

Terry said nothing, but it was obvious he was thinking hard. Siren clutched at Terry’s sleeve in terror, but the other man didn’t even spare him a glance.

“Look, man,” another guard called out, “You hate the asshole, we all do, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to torture him. One quick bullet in the head and he’s out of his misery. He won’t even feel it. We’re not monsters, and we don’t want to cause him any pain.”

Siren silently shook his head, but no one was paying him any attention.

“Don’t be stupid, Terry,” another man commented, “Do you honestly think you’re going to get out of this alive?”

“No,” Terry admitted, “I don’t.”

“Then surrender Siren, and we got your back when it comes to Vess,” the guard replied, “We’ll tell him the crazy fucker wandered outside and froze.”

Terry stared at the men around him and they all looked the same. The same uniform, the same helmets, and even the same body shapes. They were faceless guards, and Terry couldn’t even tell who any of them were. Was this what Siren saw when he looked at them? An endless supply of Kevins who were identical in every way? Terry shot a glance over his shoulder at Siren whose eyes were wide with terror, and then looked back to the other guards. Terry wasn’t the same as them. He was **Siren’s** guard, and he would show Siren that he wasn’t just another faceless Kevin.

“Well?” one of the men demanded.

“Alright,” Terry called back, “I’ll let you have him,”

Siren sucked in a sharp breath, his grip tightening even more on Terry’s shirt.

“No…” he whispered, “Please…Kevin I’m sorry! Please!”

Terry didn’t respond to him, his attention entirely on the other guards. The men lowered their guns, and one of the men gave him a nod.

“Great, we **knew** you could be reasoned with,” the man said smugly, “Just hand him over, and then we can all get out of this hellhole.”

“Okay, I’m bringing him over now,” Terry announced, “Don’t shoot me.”

Terry reached behind him and grabbed Siren by the arm, who immediately began struggling to get away. Terry was much stronger however, and his tight grip couldn’t be broken. He began approaching the other guards, dragging the smaller man after him, a dozen flashlights trained on them. Siren looked so small surrounded by the large and burly guards, and he hunched in on himself, knowing there was no getting out of this.

“I want to make sure he dies with the first shot,” Terry told them, “I’m going to put a bullet between his eyes myself. I want to make sure his death is completely painless.”

Terry couldn’t see the guards’ expressions from behind their helmets, but he received a nod from one of them. Lifting his gun, he pressed it to Siren’s head, who stared at him with pleading eyes, but he didn’t utter a single word.

“Step back in case the bullet ricochets,” said to the others.

They stepped aside and Terry pushed Siren through the crowd of guards until his back was to the empty hallway. Cocking the gun, Terry took a deep breath, preparing for what was to come.

“I just have one thing to say to you, Siren,” Terry announced loudly.

He then gave Siren a hard shove past the other guards.

“**RUN** !” he bellowed out. “ **RUN, SIREN, HIDE**!”

Terry then turned and began shooting the guards around him. Siren stumbled into the darkness and turned around just in time to see Terry shot by three different guards. Terry fell to the floor, and didn’t move.

Gasping in horror, Siren turned and fled into the darkness, feeling his terror increasing by the second. Bullets came at him from all sides, and Siren knew the flashlight was giving him away. The thought of being in the dark without a light was enough to make him feel sick, but he knew he had no choice. Siren dropped the flashlight to the floor and continued running, his fingers touching the wall to avoid crashing into anything. 

Memories kept flashing before his eyes, and Siren realized that if he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could see the hallways like they were ten years before, fully lit and freshly painted. Focusing everything he had on seeing the hallways, Siren’s hand left the wall and he made the turns from memory, speeding up, knowing exactly where he was going. He stumbled over the occasional debris, but he kept going, just hoping to lose the men behind him.

Siren studied the map within his mind of the lower basement, and tried to figure out the best place to hide. Another bullet hit the floor near his feet, and he made another turn, knowing he couldn’t last much longer. Siren was in terrible shape since he barely ever left his desk, and he was completely out of breath and wheezing. Pushing himself to keep going, he continued studying the basement’s layout in his mind and knew where he could go.

The guards were large men, all over six feet tall and muscular, but Siren was small and thin. He ran for a ventilation shaft and pulled the cover off, knowing he was small enough to fit inside. Keeping his eyes squeezed firmly closed, he crawled in on his belly as fast as he could, and then wormed his way through the narrow space, hoping to get out of reach of the gunfire in the halls. 

The dust inside the vent was choking, and he had a feeling the dust he felt beneath him was actually ash. Siren didn’t have a mental map of the ventilation shafts, but he was smart, and he could figure them out easily enough by calculating the distances between rooms. Once he was certain he was safe for the moment, he stopped and sagged in exhaustion, gasping to catch his breath. He could hear the loud footsteps of the guards in the halls, as well as their angry voices. As Siren laid there, sweaty and wheezing, he thought of Terry, and he clenched his fists. Terry must have known he was going to die, but he chose to do it anyway. He had died to protect him. 

Siren felt a deep anger consume him, and he kept seeing Terry fall to the ground over and over again in his mind. He hated Kevins. He hated them with a passion. He thought of Terry’s family photo, everyone happy and smiling in front of the Christmas tree, and he slammed a hand down in frustration. Why did Terry have to show him that? Why did he have to be so nice to him? Why did he die for him, when he still had so much to live for? Why couldn’t he have just let him hate him?

Siren wiped at his wet eyes with the back of his dirty hand, knowing he had failed Terry. He owed Terry absolutely everything and the man had died without so much as a word of thanks from him.

Siren felt the fog within his mind crash over him, and it began lessening his pain and so he allowed it to come. 

Siren took a deep breath, and heard the echo of a song deep within his mind. The song seemed to be calling him from the fog, and Siren found himself reacting to it, his mind settling into a deadly calm. The song was soft and sweet, almost like a whisper, and he knew he'd heard it before long ago. It was beckoning him, and he allowed his mind to drift towards it, feeling like the song was urging him to do something. He found himself crawling through the shaft from room to room, his memories directing him on where to go.

When he made it to his destination, he pushed open the vent, and pulled himself out, remembering the room he was in perfectly. Stepping across the room, he reached for the cabinets and opened them, his hands finding dozens of glass bottles. Not even needing to look to see what they were, he began opening them, humming as he did so. He began combing the bottles together, the smells strong and choking. Reaching for bottle after bottle, he added the perfect amounts of each to his concoction, and then he screwed the cap on his bottle. Humming a bit louder, he crossed the room and began opening drawers, feeling around carefully what he was looking for. His hand came away with a sharp knife, and now he knew he was ready.

Crawling back in the vent, and heading for a new destination, the song within his mind got louder and more demanding by the second. He could still hear the Kevins as they ran through the halls looking for him, and he continued on his way, not paying them any mind. Siren pushed open the vent and pulled himself out, now back in the room he and Terry had been staying in. He felt the glass crunching beneath his bare feet, but he felt nothing, his mind numb and protected from his song. His feet slipped from the blood as he walked, but he ignored it, heading for the cot. He felt around and when he found Terry’s backpack, he picked it up and opened it. He felt inside the bag for several minutes, until he found what he was looking for in the front pocket.

Opening the pack of cigarettes, he lit one with the lighter inside, still not opening his eyes as he brought the cigarette to his lips. Holding it there, he then began unscrewing the bottle as he walked towards the door. Slashing his hospital gown with his knife, he stuffed a piece of fabric into the mouth of the bottle, and then removed the cigarette from his lips.

The haunting song was calling to him louder than ever, and he finally answered it, his voice ringing loud and clear through the empty hallways. Siren spun as he walked, his eyes finally opening as he heard the Kevins approaching. Siren sang with everything he had, his voice echoing around him eerily, allowing his emotions to be swallowed by the song. Siren could feel his whole mind spinning along with the song, and he turned his body with it.

“He went nuts again,” he heard a voice yell, “Idiot is drawing us right to him!”

Siren spun and spun without a care in the world, and he heard the Kevins getting closer and closer, their footsteps thundering down the hall towards him. Siren was suddenly illuminated in a dozen flashlight beams and he continued his spinning and singing, the song within his mind absolutely deafening. Nothing else mattered now, and Siren felt completely calm as he was blinded from the light. He simply closed his eyes against it, his song not stopping for an instant.

“He has a knife!” a Kevin cried out.

“And you have a **gun**, dipshit!” someone else yelled.

“What’s that in his other hand?” the same man demanded.

“Did he just light himself on fire?!” someone else demanded as they saw flames beginning to appear in the darkness.

Siren spun and opened his hand, sending the glass bottle careening towards the Kevins, the rag stuffed inside on fire.

“FUCK!” yelled a Kevin as it sailed straight for them. “It’s a molotov!”

There was a massive explosion, and Siren fell hard as the force knocked him to the floor. He continued singing as there were agonized screams around him, and he got back up, the heat around him almost unbearable. The darkness and screams were just a memory; none of it was real. Siren knew he didn’t need to concern himself with a memory from so long ago, and he walked away from the screaming, spinning with his knife as he did so.

Siren headed for the elevators, and he could see several Kevins standing there in the light of the elevator, simply staring down the dark hallways with horrified looks on their faces.

“Shoot him!” one of the Kevins bellowed.

Siren spun as a hail of gunfire burst around him, and he felt a sharp pain in his chest which he ignored. The smoke from the gunfire filled the entire hall, and without pausing once in his song, Siren leapt out of the darkness and sliced the knife into one of the men’s throats. Without hesitation, he spun around, the knife finding another Kevin’s neck before he had the chance to respond. There was more gunfire, but Siren was already out of the way, the song in his mind now fast and urgent, like it was calling him to action. Siren dropped to the floor as he drove the knife into a Kevin’s kneecap and there was an agonized scream which was quickly silenced.

Faster and faster the song screamed at him, and Siren lashed out again and again, never once pausing in his song. He made his way through the halls, and spun and moved away as he was shot at, the Kevin’s movements lazy and predictable. Siren’s hands were sticky with blood, and he was struggling to breathe, but still he kept going, unwilling and unable to stop. The song became more and more frantic and Siren moved in tune to the song, slashing and dodging, using all the skills he had long forgotten.

The song was deafening and Siren gasped for air, but was unable to stop himself, fighting and spinning as the Kevins came for him. Siren felt nothing at all, the fog filling his mind until nothing but the song remained. The screams around him were added to the deafening song, and Siren ducked and dodged, never once slowing down.

Siren soon became aware that the only sound that remained was his song, and there were no faceless Kevins left. He was numb, and could feel a deep pain coming from his chest, but he didn’t care about that. There was nothing he cared about. The only thing in his world was his song. His song was who he was, and he would die to his song. It was then that he heard a nearby sound. Siren paused, and listened for a moment, wondering if there was still a Kevin that was alive.

He followed the sound through the dark hallways, his knife held tightly as he prepared himself to get rid of another threat. Opening his eyes as he approached the sound, he could see a Kevin clutching a flashlight. The man was staring up at him in tired resignation as Siren the room, his gaze going to the bloody knife. The Kevin was laying on the floor in a pool of blood, and the sound Siren had heard was his ragged breathing.

“...I always kinda figured you’d be the one to kill me,” the Kevin commented wryly, “You’d better damn well cure cancer or **something** after all this, you little shit.”

Siren paused in the doorway, a brief moment of confusion making its way through his mind. That voice…

The Kevin raised a hand to his face and wiped the blood aside, never taking his eyes off Siren.

“Well, how are you going to do it?” he asked tiredly, “The knife, I’m assuming? Hopefully you make it fast, because I’ve never been very good with pain.”

Siren took a slow step into the room, his song slowing down to a hesitant and confused tone.

“What are you waiting for?” The Kevin demanded, “I knew I would die eventually, just get it over with.”

Siren slowly approached and stared down at the Kevin. He stared at the blond hair, and blue eyes, and then raised the knife for the kill. He stared into those blue eyes, another odd feeling of familiarity flashing through his mind. That voice...those eyes...This Kevin was...no...**not** Kevin...this was...Terry. This was **Terry**!

Siren’s eyes widened, and he stared at Terry’s face, everything coming back to him in an instant. The knife clattered to the floor, and Siren began to shake, unable to take his eyes off the other man, his song cutting off abruptly.

“Siren?” Terry questioned in confusion.

Raising his hands to his face, Siren began to sob hard and he fell to his knees in absolute exhaustion. Terry stared for a moment, and then struggled to sit up, leaning against the wall. Reaching out, he pulled Siren over to him, and Siren latched onto him tightly, unable to stop sobbing. Terry had never once seen Siren stop himself when he was disassociating, and he was confused, but unbelievably relieved.

Siren buried his face into Terry’s chest as he cried, seeking comfort that he hadn’t experienced in over a decade. Terry looked down at him for a long moment and then hesitantly wrapped his arms around him, having a feeling no words would help him at this time. Terry was feeling incredibly weak, and he knew he was injured badly. He could see the blood on Siren’s chest and had the feeling the other man had been shot as well. Terry felt his grip on Siren loosening, and after a few seconds, he lost consciousness. Siren didn’t even notice, his own injuries and exhaustion catching up to him. He soon passed out as well, still clinging to Terry tightly.

When Siren awoke, it was to the sight of Vess hovering over him. Glancing around, he saw he was in the medical bay laying on a gurney. Siren groaned and then raised a hand to his head, feeling absolutely awful.

“Oh,” Vess commented with disinterest, “You’re awake.”

“Where the **fuck** have you been?!” Siren demanded angrily.

Vess glared at him for a moment, and then muttered something under his breath as he reached over to adjust the sedatives.

“Wait!” Siren protested, his voice suddenly tired and weak-sounding. 

Vess paused and raised a brow at him in question.

“What happened?” Siren demanded, “Where’s Kevin?”

Vess looked like he was debating whether or not to answer, before he heaved a sigh, and then crossed his arms.

“What do you remember?” he demanded.

“All the Kevins tried to kill me, but Kevin saved me. If it wasn’t for Kevin, the Kevins would have murdered me, and made it look like an accident. Kevin fought the Kevins and the Kevins shot him and so I killed the kevins to save Kevin.”

Vess gave him an annoyed look. “Trying to get information out of you, is like hitting my head against a wall,” he commented, “I’m putting you to sleep so I can dig that bullet out of your chest. Luckily for you, it didn’t hit anything vital.”

“Where’s Kevin?” Siren demanded. “Did Kevin die?”

Vess glowered down at him. “Depends which ‘Kevin’ you’re referring to,” he responded, “You have no idea the mess you've caused for me.”

“Where’s **my** Kevin?” Siren demanded impatiently.

“Over here,” Terry’s tired voice came from the other side of the curtain.

“I want to see him,” Siren ordered, reaching for the curtain. “Let me see him.”

Vess slapped Siren’s hand away from the curtain, and then reached out to pull it back himself. Terry was laying in the bed beside him, hooked up to several machines, and Siren raked his eyes over the other man, realizing he must have been hurt incredibly badly. There was the sound of a ringing com, and Vess let out another sigh.

“I’ll be back in **one** minute,” Vess informed him, “Do **not** try to move, understood?”

Siren nodded silently, and so Vess removed his com out of his pocket and answered it, stepping away for a bit of privacy.

Siren met Terry’s gaze and had no idea what to say.

“You’re really bad at your job,” Siren finally stated.

Terry raised a brow, looking mildly amused. “Oh?” he questioned.

Siren nodded. “You got yourself shot, and you allowed **me** to get shot.”

“Oh, well I beg your pardon, you little shit, I’ll make sure to do a better job next time.”

“Are you...going to die?” Siren asked hesitantly.

“Don’t worry, you’re stuck with me for a while yet,” Terry replied.

“...Kevin?”

“My name is Terry. Can’t you **please** use my name?”

“Kevin?”

Terry sighed. “Yes, Siren?”

“I still don’t like you...but thank you.”

“And I still think you’re a spoiled brat, but you’re welcome.” Terry replied, rolling his eyes.

They fell silent, and Siren averted his gaze.

“Del.” Siren said after a few moments of awkward silence.

Terry glanced over. “Hmm?”

“You asked for my name,” Siren replied, “My name is Del.”

Terry gaped at him for a moment but before he had time to respond, Vess returned and adjusted Siren’s sedatives. Siren was asleep within seconds, and Terry watched as Vess wheeled the gurney away towards surgery. Once they were gone, Terry let out a low, pained chuckle.

“What kind of a name is **Del**?” he mused out loud.

As Terry closed his eyes, he had no idea how he was going to explain this to his wife.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**I have many, many important things lined up for Siren in future chapters, so hopefully you guys don't mind that he's an OC. **

**I'm going to do my best to get chapter 22 out in two weeks by the 31st at the absolute latest. I've been working on a lot of side-fics at the same time as this one, and so that's why updates are a little slower than normal. Please forgive the delay! **

**Credit for the names of Otterman and Moose Boy go to Animedemon01**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**

**Please don't forget to let me know what you think! **


	22. One Player Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone!
> 
> Sorry for the delay on this chapter, but I have had zero motivation to do anything lately. I think the whole world right now is in a funk, and no one seems to have much motivation. I will do my best to finish the next chapter faster, but I can't promise anything.
> 
> An enormous thank you to the very awesome Violetfic for being my beta and also to Coulrosaurus for offering some very awesome suggestions to help improve this chapter.
> 
> Please note that Dr. Vess and Michael Jr. both use the F-word extremely frequently in their everyday speech. You have been warned.
> 
> If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 22**

**One Player Down**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

It was like time had frozen. No one spoke, and no one moved. The silence weighed heavily on everyone, and Carmen slowly turned wide eyes to Shadowsan. The older man’s expression was grim, and he clenched his hands into fists, but he too remained quiet. The silence stretched on, until suddenly Zack’s voice came across the com, startling everyone.

“Mime Bomb, what are you doing! No, you are not getting up! Stop it! Mime Bomb, stop it!”

There was the sound of scuffling, and then once again Zack called out.

“Mime Bomb, no, you can’t get up! You’re going to hurt yourself! No! I’m not letting you! Knock it off!”

Everyone could hear the sound of a struggle over their coms, and Shadowsan frowned in concern.

“Mime Bomb,” Shadowsan spoke up, “I know that you feel like you have to help Player, but you need to rest and focus on recovering. We will get Player back, and he is **not** going to be harmed.”

Mime Bomb struggled against Zack, but the other boy was bigger and heavier than him, and Mime Bomb was still weak from the surgery. He heard what Shadowsan said, but he shook his head defiantly.

“Stop!” Zack ordered, “You’re going to hurt yourself! The doctors said you can’t get up for several days!”

Mime Bomb stared up at Zack miserably and then went limp, too tired to struggle any more. Zack eyed him for a moment, and then very hesitantly released him. Mime Bomb signed something to him frantically, and Zack frowned, not understanding. The frustration was evident on Mime Bomb’s face, and so he pointed to himself over and over. Zack furrowed his brow as he tried to figure out what the other boy was trying to say, and then his eyes widened.

“You’re saying they want **you**?” he guessed.

Mime Bomb nodded. He then pointed to himself and then to the door. Zack shook his head.

“No, we’re not allowing you to give yourself up.”

“Zack’s right,” Carmen said, her voice growing exhausted, “Even if you did hand yourself over to them, there’s no guarantee they’ll let Player go. They might keep both of you as bargaining chips against the rest of us.”

“What are we gonna do?” Ivy asked worriedly, “We can’t let them hurt him! He’s just a kid!”

Carmen could barely move her head let alone go on a rescue mission, and she gave Shadowsan a desperate look.

“No, you will take a long time to recover, and there’s nothing you can do,” Shadowsan said firmly, “You will need to let the rest of us handle this.”

“I will be back on my feet within the next day,” Chase suddenly stated, “V.I.L.E is not going to harm another child as long as I’m still breathing! I’ll get him back.”

“Chase, you were just shot!” Julia pointed out.

“That’s right,” El Topo responded, “We’re a large team, and while the three of you are recovering, the rest of us will rescue Player.”

“We’ll get the little runt back,” Tigress promised.

“I’m going to make a few calls to see if any of my contacts know anything,” Chase announced, reaching for his com.

Julia quickly snatched it before he could touch it. “Chase, we’re likely both wanted felons now. Any contacts either of us know are now too risky to reach out to. You’d risk both Interpol and A.C.M.E coming for us if they’re monitoring our friends and colleagues. Carmen and Mime Bomb are too weak to chance that.”

Chase knew she was right, but he still felt frustrated. “We can’t just sit here and do nothing!” he challenged.

“Let’s go over what we know carefully, and then we figure out our next step from there,” Julia suggested.

“That would make the most sense,” Shadowsan agreed.

“Very well,” Chase said with a frown, “Let’s get to planning the rescue.”

Carmen could barely keep her eyes open, and she felt a deep sense of dread. She was the leader of her team, but she couldn’t help Player because of a stupid mistake that left her bedridden. He could die, and there was nothing she could do about it. Player was her very first friend, and now his life was in danger all because she was a failure.

Carmen clenched her fists, and squeezed her eyes closed as tears blurred her vision. She had trusted Vess, but she was an absolute idiot. He’d never cared for her, and she’d only seen what she wanted to see. She could have died, and she felt ashamed of herself. She was useless to her team like this, and Carmen wanted to scream in frustration. She felt a gentle hand wipe her tears away, but she didn’t open her eyes.

Too weak to stay awake any longer, Carmen fell asleep, her mind filled with thoughts of Player.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Player took a very slow and deep breath, trying to force himself to calm down. He was surprisingly unharmed, but his hands and feet were duct taped together and he had a sack over his head. The men had carried him out to their vehicle, and Player had never been more terrified in his life. What happened to his parents? He had no idea if they were home or not since he’d spent the last twelve hours glued to his computer. Had the men shot them, or were they working when the kidnapping happened?

Taking another deep breath, Player tried not to think about it, instead concentrating on what he knew about the men who had taken him. There were four of them, and they spoke Russian to one another, and Player knew it was probably safe to assume these were the same men who had gone after Mime Bomb. They were all large and strong men, and so they were likely the muscle and not the brains of the operation. 

Player tried to memorize all the stops and turns as they drove along, but after several dozen turns, he lost track. He was seated between two men in the back seat, and anytime he so much as shifted, one of the men would place a hand on his shoulder threateningly. The sack was stuffy and hot, but Player didn’t dare say a single word, having a feeling these men could not be negotiated with.

They drove for several hours until the car finally stopped. Player was lifted out of the car, and one of the men carried him as if he weighed nothing at all. He listened intently, and heard the sound of planes, and he realized with horror they were taking him out of the country. Trying to stifle his panic, he had no idea how he was going to get out of this. Half of Team Red were in the hospital, and they would have no way to trace him.

Player remained completely limp and cooperative, and once they boarded the plane, he was made to take a seat, and he was belted in. He listened intently to what the men were saying, but Player couldn’t speak a word of Russian and by their tones of voice, the men seemed pleased with themselves. Player had been hoping the police would show up, knowing how fast they reacted to amber alerts, but to his disappointment no one came for him. He wasn’t even sure if anyone knew he was gone yet.

The plane began to rumble as the engines were turned on, and once it began moving, Player knew no one would be rescuing him any time soon.

He sat completely still and quiet for the next ten minutes. Then to his surprise, the hood was pulled off his head. He looked up at the large bald-headed man standing over him, and the man offered him an awkward smile.

“Do not be scared,” the man said, obviously trying to sound nice, “We will not hurt you.”

Player swallowed heavily, but couldn’t find the words to respond.

“You will not be with us for long,” the man assured him, “All we want is Yuri Volkov, and you are simply our bargaining chip. We will release you unharmed once we get him.”

Player grimaced. Well, that certainly confirmed these were the same men from Wales.

“My name is Viktor,” the man said, kneeling down so he was eye-level with Player, “I am not a bad man, but I have my orders. I promise I will not hurt you.”

“Did...Did you kill my parents?” Player asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Viktor snorted. “Of course not. There was no one else home when we took you. They are bad parents for leaving such a little boy home all by himself.”

Player blanched. Just how young did they think he was?! Player was short for his age, and his voice hadn’t changed yet, and so he supposed he did look several years younger than he was. Perhaps he could somehow use this to his advantage? Giving the man his best sad and pathetic puppy-dog eyes, he sniffed loudly.

“My arms hurt, can you please take the tape off?” he asked, trying to make his voice sound as young as possible.

Viktor frowned at him for a moment, and then exchanged a look with the other three men.

“Are you scared of the little boy?” one of the men demanded with a laugh. “Frightened he will hit you with his little fists?”

Viktor flushed. “Shut up, Boris!”

Scowling irritably, Viktor pulled a switchblade out of his pocket and Player jumped as the blade popped out with a ‘_ SHING _’. The tape was cut away from Players wrists, and the moment his hands were free, Player rubbed at them, unable to believe Viktor really untied him.

“Are you hurt, Matteo?” Viktor asked, looking him up and down.

Player’s eyes widened to the size of saucers and he stared up at him in complete shock. “How do you know my name?” he demanded.

“We did our research,” he replied with a shrug. “Three people lived at your residence; a woman, a man and their son. Not much was known about you however. No school registration or anything of the sort.”

“I’m homeschooled,” Player replied.

“And you like computers,” Viktor stated with a knowing look.

Player went silent and the man laughed.

“You are very good hacker for such a little boy, but you made a mistake.”

Player was instantly indignant. “Mistake? What mistake?” he demanded.

“I don’t know how you are involved with Mr. Volkov, but you did indeed make a mistake,” Viktor informed him.

“Oh?” Player demanded skeptically.

“You contacted Alys Firth,” he replied with an amused smile.

Player’s eyes widened in realization.

“We traced that call straight to you, despite your attempts to mask your location.”

“Why are you telling him this?” Boris demanded angrily. “Don’t tell him that!”

“I am telling him so he knows for next time,” Viktor replied with a shrug. “Such a smart little boy could someday be great if he continues to improve himself. Maybe even work for us.”

It was starting to grate on Player’s nerves being called a little boy, but he ignored it, knowing it was in his favour if they thought he was helpless.

“Can you cut my feet loose too?” Player asked plaintively.

Viktor shook his head. “Sorry, but your feet remain tied,” he answered.

“It’s too tight,” Player said, doing his best to look small and innocent, “I promise I won’t move out of this seat.”

“He is lying,” Boris stated with a snort. “He will run.”

“No, I promise I won’t!” Player protested.

“_ нет _, you will remain tied,” Viktor said in a firm tone.

“Can you at least loosen it a little bit?” Player asked hopefully. “Just so I’m more comfortable?”

“Keep pushing after I’ve said no, and I will tie your arms again,” Viktor warned, “No sneakiness. You will be quiet and obedient, is this understood?”

Player went quiet.

“Is this understood?” Viktor repeated, crossing his arms.

Player gave him an uncertain look, and simply nodded.

Viktor seemed satisfied with this and he ruffled Player’s hair.

“I will put cartoons on for you now,” Viktor said, turning on the nearby flatscreen. “Let me know if you get hungry or need to pee.”

Player said nothing, knowing he had to be extremely cautious. If these men even **suspected** he was going to attempt an escape, they could seriously harm him. He would wait for an opportunity, and make it seem like he was fully cooperating. There was nothing he could do while they were on a plane, and so he’d have to be patient and simply wait for his opportunity.

Player stared at the colourful Russian cartoon on the screen, and took a deep and steadying breath. He was safe for the moment, his parents were safe, and Mime Bomb was safe. As long as he kept a cool and rational mind, he felt confident he would be able to get himself out of this mess. All he would have to be is patient for a little while longer.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Neal glanced over at Dash who was pointedly refusing to look at him. He was staring down at his sketchbook with an angry expression on his face and refused to say a word. Neal was now sporting a walking cast on his foot, and had strict instructions from the hospital to take it easy for a few weeks. When they first got back to the motel room, Crackle had tried to force Dash to apologize, but the other man stubbornly refused. Even the threat of the Crackle Rod hadn’t been enough to make Dash give in. Crackle was clearly angry enough to shock Dash a few times, but when Neal said it was fine, Crackle relented, and dropped the subject.

Everyone was now seated around the room as they watched tv, far too many people crowded in there to be comfortable. Moose Boy had returned from the pharmacy and was fussing over Otterman, the other man clearly not doing too well. Crackle had demanded all medications be turned over to him, and he was going to be handling how much of the painkillers Otterman was allowed.

Otterman was shaking from the cold yet sweating heavily, but he didn’t say a single word of complaint. Moose Boy had wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and sat beside him at the end of one of the beds, watching the movie with no real interest.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Crackle commented after a time, “Can one of you order something for supper?”

“I’ll do it!” Dash volunteered, not wanting to eat whatever greasy food the others were bound to pick out.

Crackle gave him a glare, clearly still annoyed, but nodded all the same. “Nothing spicy.”

Otterman watched Crackle out of the corner of his eye and once he’d left the room to take a shower, he turned to Neal.

“Neal, could I speak with you alone for a minute?” he asked.

Neal glanced over at him, and simply nodded, already knowing what this was about. Grabbing his crutches, he pulled himself to his feet, and he awkwardly hobbled after Otterman, ignoring the curious looks everyone was giving them.

[[I’ll be back in a few seconds, Henrik,]] Otterman told Moose Boy, who looked like he was about to follow them.

Stepping outside the motel room, Otterman glanced down at Neal’s broken foot and then winced guiltily. Rubbing the back of his head awkwardly, he wasn’t quite sure what to say. Neal simply waited patiently, and finally Otterman looked up at him.

“Thank you for not telling on me,” he said hesitantly, “I know you saw me earlier…”

Neal stared at him in silence for a moment, and then he leaned against the wall. “You going to explain?” he asked, his tone not sounding particularly angry.

Otterman let out a deep sigh. “Everything always goes to shit,” he responded.

“For you two? Yeah, it does,” Neal agreed.

“I’m sorry you got hurt because of me,” Otterman said, feeling even more awkward.

He’d never really gotten along with Neal, but he certainly didn’t want him to get hurt.

“Why did you steal Dash’s things? Was it a prank?” Neal didn’t sound like he believed it, knowing how serious the other man was.

Otterman sighed, and then groaned, raising a hand to cover his face in shame. “No...Henrik and I were here with no funds and we couldn’t pay for our room and didn’t even have money for food. Everything is just one giant mess, and I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Why are you guys so broke? What happened?” Neal asked curiously.

“We were supposed to be here in secret and we were given a limited amount of cash. Henrik had the cash and-”

“Say no more,” Neal replied, holding up a hand. “And I suppose asking for more was out of the question?”

Otterman flushed red and nodded. “This was our last chance before V.I.L.E were going to erase our minds. We failed before the mission even began. We couldn’t chance being seen or caught stealing from pulling a job, and so we…”

“Mugged Dash?”

“...yeah. Sorry.”

Neal stared at him, and then let out a deep sigh. “Did you return everything you took?”

Otterman mutely shook his head.

“Okay, I won’t tattle on you, but I’m not going to let you steal from my teammates. Just give me everything you took and I’ll return it when no one is looking.”

“I’m sorry you got the blame.”

Neal gave him a shrug. “It happens. Do you need some cash?”

Otterman flushed even redder. “...yeah.”

“Just mention to Crackle that he needs to pay for your room. I think he was planning on doing that anyway.”

Otterman nodded. “Wait here for a second, and I’ll grab the stuff out of my room for you.”

Neal watched Otterman hurry away, and he gave a long and lazy stretch as he waited. Moose Boy and Otterman were truly the worst operatives in the entire organization, and although they should have been ‘fired’ long ago, Neal didn’t want the faculty to find out about their failure. Having fourteen years of your memories removed was the cruelest thing he could think of, and he wanted no part in it. He saw no possible way Moose Boy and Otterman would survive for too much longer, knowing how fed up the faculty were getting with their constant failures. It was only a matter of time. Almost Neal’s entire graduating class were gone now, and there were only a handful of them left. He knew Rhino was still around, and The Driver was doing well, but everyone else was long gone.

Otterman returned just a couple minutes later, and he held out a handful of cash, as well as Neal’s ipod. Neal recognized it as his own, and Otterman ducked his head, carefully avoiding eye contact.

“Geez, did Dash have **this** much cash on him?!” Neal said, thumbing through the money in amazement. “No wonder you robbed him! I’m half-tempted to mug him myself!”

Neal then clapped Otterman on the back. “Let’s get back inside before your guard moose gets worried.”

Everyone looked up at them as they re-entered the room, and Dash gave Neal a look of distaste, but said nothing. Neal honestly had no idea what Dash had to be mad at him over, but knew it wasn’t worth the effort of calling him out on it. Instead, he took a seat, and let out a sigh of relief as his foot finally got a bit of relief.

“I ordered the food,” Dash commented to no one in particular.

“Nice, what did you get?” Neal demanded, “You ordered something for me too, right?”

Dash rolled his eyes. “Yes, Neal, I got you food.”

Neal gave him a skeptical look. “Real food or just like a fortune cookie or something?”

“Real food,” Dash confirmed with a smirk.

There was something sneaky lurking in Dash’s eyes that Neal didn’t like, and he was suspicious.

“You didn’t get me vegetarian food or a salad, did you?”

“No, I got you a combo,” Dash replied, “I think it comes with a side-salad, but just don’t eat that part if you don’t want it.”

“Uh huh,” Neal answered, knowing Dash was scheming something. “What did you order?”

“Don’t you want to be surprised?” Dash replied, amusement in his voice.

“He ordered Japanese,” Paper Star replied, rolling her eyes. “He didn’t order you anything weird.”

Neal stared at her in surprise. “Oh, well okay then,”

“I’ve never eaten Japanese before,” Theodore commented thoughtfully.

“I have,” Roosevelt replied, surprising his brother.

“You have? When?” Theodore asked.

“Remember that time I took Delano to the science fair in eighth grade? You were sick with the flu and had to stay home.”

“Yeah, I remember that; he won first place. You guys had to take a bus, and Grams was worried you’d get lost.”

“Well, I was starving after that boring nerd-fest, and so we stopped to grab supper. I wanted a burger, but Delano pitched a fit and so I let him choose where we went. He chose some weird little Japanese place.”

Theodore frowned. “How was it?”

“It was fine,” Roosevelt replied, “He didn’t order anything too strange. I think I had some sort of soup and a tuna rice thing.”

“Huh,” Theodore commented.

As twins, they normally shared all experiences, and so Theodore felt a little left out. 

“I bet Delano yelled at the waiter,” he commented in amusement.

Roosevelt let out a snort. “Of course he did. He yelled at the waiter in Japanese for like ten minutes straight, and we ended up getting our meal for free. I still have no idea what he was so mad about, but I think he overheard the waiter talking about us.”

Theodore smiled sadly for a moment, and then glanced back towards the tv, falling silent. A few minutes later, Crackle came out of the bathroom, his hair wet and dressed for bed.

“Did you order supper?” he asked Dash, approaching to take a seat beside Neal.

Dash nodded and then turned his attention back to his sketchbook. Crackle reached for his tablet, and then powered it on, glancing up at the others as he did so.

“I’m going to log in to view the tracker, and hopefully we’ll now know where Team Red is located. We can plan our attack for tomorrow.”

Crackle now had Paper Star’s undivided attention. Crackle logged into the program and then waited as the information loaded. He then simply stared at the map with an incredulous look on his face.

“Did you find them?” Paper Star demanded, “Do you know where Carmen Sandiego is?”

“...yes,” Crackle replied hesitantly. 

“Well, don’t keep us in suspense, wombat,” Neal teased, “Where is she?”

“Kazakhstan.”

Everyone stared at him in confusion.

“Pardon?” Dash demanded, “Did you say Kazakhstan?!”

Crackle furrowed his brow and nodded. “It appears that Carmen Sandiego spent several hours walking around San Diego and then went to the airport and flew to Kazakhstan…”

Paper Star reached out and snatched the tablet out of his hands and stared at the information in silence. When she saw that he was right, he scowled angrily and tossed it back into Crackle’s lap.

“Then she’s on a mission and we have no idea where her base is,” she stated, glaring at Crackle like it was his fault.

“It appears so,” Crackle responded, “We’ll have to wait for her to return and hope that she doesn’t discover the tracker before then.”

Paper Star didn’t say another word, simply going back to her bed to take a seat. Although her expression was completely blank, her hands were folding star after star. Everyone eyed her warily for a moment, and then Crackle turned his attention to Dash.

“You seem to be a lot better today,” he observed, “How are your stitches?”

“Fine,” Dash answered distractedly.

“Come here for a second so I can check on them,”

“What? No. I’m not taking off my shirt in front of this many people. I checked them a while ago, they’re fine.”

“No one cares if you take off your shirt,” Roosevelt commented.

“Well, **I** care!” Dash snapped.

“Everyone already saw you naked anyway,” Paper Star pointed out.

Dash looked up from his sketchbook sharply. “**What**?!”

“When Vess brought you home, you were naked,” Roosevelt pointed out with a shrug.

Dash stared with wide eyes. “**What** ?!” he repeated. “ **Why**?!”

“He needed to remove your clothes during the surgery, and he had to escape with you immediately afterwards. He didn’t have anything sterile to cover you with at the time,” Crackle replied.

“...wait...didn’t you say all of Team Red were there during my surgery?”

Crackle nodded.

Dash looked completely horrified. “You mean, not only did all of **you** see me naked, but all of **Team Red** saw me naked as well?!”

“Yes, that is probably the case,” Crackle responded.

Dash’s face turned completely scarlet and he clapped his hands to his face in complete humiliation. “Oh my god,” he moaned.

Neal grinned widely at him, but Dash wasn’t looking at anyone in the room. He looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“Aw, Dashie, it’s not so bad!” Neal assured him, “At least you’re not some old, fat wrinkled guy.”

“Our sworn enemies saw me completely naked!” Dash snarled, “Just kill me. There’s no recovering from this. Kill me now **please**.”

“Don’t be so over-dramatic, you princess.”

“Shut up, Neal!”

“It's really okay, Fancy, Team Red all saw **me** naked too.”

“I DON'T CARE IF THEY SAW-wait...why did they see **you** naked?!”

Neal gave a shrug.

“You never did tell us what happened while you were Team Red’s prisoner,” Crackle pointed out, “Did they treat you well?”

Neal grimaced.

“What?” Crackle demanded, “What happened?”

“Well, Dash and I didn’t exactly have the best time while we were with Team Red…”

Neal now had everyone’s attention, and he began his story right from the beginning.

“Well, when Team Red captured Dash, I knew I had to go with him since he was in no condition to escape on his own-”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Carmen was sound asleep, too weak to stay awake despite the horror of everything going on. Shadowsan refused to move from her side, holding her hand as she slept, but he listened carefully to what the others were saying over his com.

Upon his insistence, Mime Bomb had been moved in with Chase, and now everyone was trying to come up with a plan to rescue Player. Mime Bomb was barely able to stay awake, and he struggled to pay attention to what everyone was saying.

“Do you know who those men were?” Tigress asked, glancing over at Mime Bomb with a frown.

Mime Bomb didn’t have Player to translate for him, and he knew from experience how frustrating it was trying to make Tigress understand pantomime. He furrowed his brow, glanced over at Zack and knew the other boy’s sign language wasn’t good enough to help. He had no choice but to resort to communicating in a different way.

Mime Bomb looked around the room, but didn’t see what he was looking for. Making a writing motion with his hand, Tigress nodded, and then turned to look for a pen.

“Anyone got any paper?” she demanded.

“I have a notepad in the pocket of my coat,” Chase replied.

A few seconds later a crumpled notepad and pen were shoved into Mime Bomb’s hands. He couldn’t sit up, and so he flipped to an empty page and then began awkwardly writing.

‘**The men are with the lab I escaped from**’

“One thing I’m not understanding is who exactly is responsible for this. The people who kidnapped you may not have necessarily been the ones who you escaped from,” Le Chèvre stated, “You told Zack that there was a violent attack at the lab, and then a complete staff change. Volkov may have dissolved into V.I.L.E, or perhaps the fight was an internal one? We have no way of knowing who we’re going after.”

“Volkov were still active when my wife and I were investigating them,” Chase stated, staring long and hard at Mime Bomb. “Your name is Volkov, and we can’t rule out the possibility your family is responsible for this.”

Mime Bomb blinked at him, and then flipped to a new page. ‘**I don’t know anything for sure**’ he acknowledged.

“Well, do you know where their base of operations is?” Chase demanded.

‘**...Russia**?’

“Helpful, Mime Bomb, real helpful,” Tigress grumbled.

“Well, how is **he** supposed to know?” Zack shot back, “He was only a kid when he escaped!”

“Okay, okay,” Chase announced, “Russia is at least a start. Perhaps we can investigate the old Volkov building?”

“It burnt down,” El Topo pointed out.

“Was a new building ever built on the site?” Julia asked, “Maybe Volkov is still in the exact same spot?”

“Player was the one who knew the location,” Ivy pointed out, “He had the information on everything involving our missions…”

“So...we know **nothing** without Player,” Le Chèvre commented, crossing his arms.

The team exchanged looks, just now realizing how much they depended on Player for everything.

“What can we do?” Ivy asked worriedly, “First Carmen and Chase got shot, then Michael Jr. and Dr. Vess got away, and now Player was kidnapped! What else could possibly go wrong?!”

Mime Bomb went deathly pale, and he slowly turned his head to stare at Ivy, his expression completely horrified.

“What?” she demanded, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Mime Bomb simply stared at her, his eyes wide, and she frowned at him.

“What?” she repeated.

Mime Bomb slowly flipped to a new page, and then began writing.

‘**Michael Finnegan Jr. is out of jail?**’

“Aw, shit!” Ivy gasped, “You didn’t know that! I am **so** sorry Mime Bomb! With everything that happened, I completely forgot you didn’t know!”

“We were going to tell you once he was back in police custody,” El Topo said kindly.

“We’ll get him!” Zack vowed, “I swear he’ll never step within a hundred yards of you!”

Mime Bomb’s gaze was absolutely terrified, and Zack reached out a hand and laid it on his shoulder.

“He won’t hurt you,” he promised, “No one will hurt you!”

‘**What if Michael Jr. has Player**?’

Mime Bomb’s hands shook as he held up the notepad and everyone’s eyes widened in horror, this never occurring to them.

“No, there’s no way!” Ivy said, shaking her head. “Player is going to be perfectly fine. That psycho has nothing to do with this!”

Ivy looked around at the others in the room, and now they were all looking decidedly worried, knowing the horrendous torture Mime Bomb had endured at the other man’s hands.

“I think the first thing we need to do is investigate Player’s hard drives,” Julia stated, “If he stored his research, we should be able to find the location of the Volkov lab. If the building still exists, that’s likely where Player is being held.”

“Player lives all the way in Niagara Falls, Canada,” Tigress pointed out, “It will take us a whole day to get there,”

“Julia and I can retrieve the hard drives, and the rest of you remain here with Mime Bomb and Carmen,” Chase stated, a determined look entering his eyes.

“Chase, you were just shot,” Julia pointed out, “You need to take it easy.”

“I’m fine,” Chase argued, sitting up to prove his point. “The doctor said I can walk in the morning. By the time we reach Canada, my leg will be perfectly fine.”

Julia frowned at him. “You were still shot, Chase. I don’t think you’re going to be ready for a mission this soon.”

Chase shook his head. “My leg doesn’t even hurt,” Chase lied, “You and I are the best ones to pose as Canadian law enforcement to gain entry to the crime scene. We have experience, and we also both speak fluent French.”

“I don’t think that’s an issue in Ontario,” El Topo pointed out, “I’m pretty sure that province is mostly English-speaking.”

Chase waved him off. “I’m going,” he said firmly.

“But Chase-” Julia began.

“Chase is correct,” Shadowsan suddenly spoke up through their coms, “The two of you are best suited for this. Neither of you are strong fighters, and Carmen and Mime Bomb need to be protected until they recover.”

Julia frowned again, and seemed like she was going to argue, but Chase spoke up before she could. 

“We will leave immediately,” he announced, swinging his legs out of bed.

Julia heaved a sigh. “Very well, but you are not walking on that leg until tomorrow!”

“Nonsense,” Chase said standing up.

He winced, but quickly masked the expression into a very fake-sounding cough. Julia narrowed her eyes, but knew that no one on Earth was more stubborn than Chase Devineaux. He’d clearly made up his mind and now all she could do was go with him to make sure he didn’t end up hurting himself.

“I’ll arrange the plane to take us as soon as possible,” she said, feeling rather resigned.

Chase’s brows rose in surprise, not expecting her to give in this easily. “Oh...er, yes, of course!”

Mime Bomb stared at Chase, and he knew all of this was his fault. The men were after him, and now Player was in danger and Chase and Julia could be putting themselves into danger as well. Player could be dead for all they knew, and he was to blame. He **knew** eventually people would come after him, but he still allowed himself to get close to Team Red, still allowed himself to find a family. Alys had been attacked, Zack had been attacked, and now Player had been taken. He was only one person, and his life wasn’t worth that of everyone he cared about.

‘**I want you to trade me for Player**’

Zack stared at the page of the notepad, and then with a scowl, he reached out and ripped the page out. He then crumpled it into a ball, and tossed it to the floor, his meaning clear. Mime Bomb’s reaction to that was to simply write the message a second time.

“No,” Zack said, his tone like steel, “We are not trading you to the bad guys.”

‘**They want me, and they will never leave us alone. All of you are in danger**’

“No,” Zack repeated, “We’re family and we’re not going to trade one family member for another.”

Ivy reached out and took Mime Bomb’s hand. “We will face this as a family, and we’ll get Player back.”

‘**This is all my fault. Player was taken because of me**.’

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Chase spoke up, surprising everyone. “You were a **child**. How were you to blame for anything? Volkov is to blame for our misfortune, not you.”

Mime Bomb frowned, but Chase held up a hand towards him to indicate he wasn’t done speaking yet.

“I’m sorry that I suspected you were involved at first, but I don’t blame you for any of it. A child can’t help who their father is.”

A small flash of pain crossed Chase’s face, but he quickly masked it with a reassuring smile. “You did nothing wrong, and it’s not your fault Player was taken. We will get him back, and we will make sure the men responsible pay. If Volkov still exists, I will do everything in my power to destroy them. They will never hurt another child **ever** again!”

Mime Bomb averted his gaze, and Ivy gave his hand another squeeze.

“We’re not letting you trade yourself,” she told him, “We love you just as much as we do Player. Don’t you think we’d miss you if you were gone?”

Mime Bomb hesitated a moment too long before he flipped to a fresh page.

‘**Player is only a child. I can’t let him go through what I did**.’

“We’ll get him back,” Tigress said, cracking her knuckles aggressively. “I’ll claw out every single person’s throat that dared lay a hand on our tech-nerd.”

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself, and instead focus on how you can help,” Le Chèvre snapped, crossing his arms. “You’re the only one of us who has had direct contact with them, and so you need to stop this idiocy, and tell us everything you know.”

“Jean Paul!” El Topo gasped.

“I just said what needs to be said,” he defended, “Arguing about this is just a waste of time. Now is the time for action, not for whining.”

“Hey man, tone it down!” Zack snapped, “Mime Bomb has been through enough! How about some understanding?”

“And what will that accomplish?” Le Chèvre retorted, “He’s bedridden, and so the only use to us he has right now is information.”

“That is enough,” Shadowsan scolded from over the coms, “No fighting. Mime Bomb, you are **not ** trading yourself to those men. This is **final**. You are going to rest, and then tomorrow, we are going to find out what Player had on his hard drives. Everyone is to leave Mime Bomb alone, and allow him to recover.”

Le Chèvre rolled his eyes, and clearly wanted to say something, but he remained silent. Zack and Ivy sat with Mime Bomb, and they each held one of his hands, not saying anything, simply offering their silent comfort. They watched as Chase very carefully took a step, struggling to keep his expression impassive, but it was clear his leg was in a lot of pain.

“Has anyone seen my pants?” he demanded.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

There was complete silence after Neal finished his story. Crackle’s expression was completely stony, and his fingers were clenching his blankets so tightly, his knuckles were white. Everyone glanced at him, clearly able to see the barely suppressed rage, but no one commented on it.

“Carmen Sandiego will pay,” he finally stated, his tone icy. “I **never** would have expected her to jeopardize the lives of my team. I’m sorry I left you with her for so long. I had no idea she was putting you through this.”

“It’s alright, wombat, everything turned out right as.”

“No, it’s **not** alright,” Crackle snarled, “No one, and I mean **no one** harms my team. If it wasn’t for you, Dash would be dead!”

Dash averted his eyes, this now the third time Neal had saved his life. He’d had no idea any of that stuff had happened, and now felt a bit guilty over breaking Neal’s ankle. He would never say so however, and he scowled down at his sketchbook, pretending to be annoyed over the story.

“No wonder I felt so gross when I woke up,” he commented, “You had your greasy mitts all over me!”

Neal tsked him with a shake of the head, but otherwise didn’t comment. A loud knock at the door made them all jump, and Crackle was to his feet in an instant.

“Who is it?” he demanded, reaching for his Crackle Rod.

“Uhm, Tokyo Tornado! Did you call for a delivery?” called a voice through the door.

“Oh, right, food,” Crackle responded, unlocking the door. 

A teenager stood holding several large bags of food, and he held a receipt out towards Crackle. “So, that’ll be $343.89.”

“What the hell did you order that costs $350?!” Neal demanded in awe.

Dash simply shrugged without looking up.

Crackle paid for the food, and then brought the bags in and set them on the desk. Ripping open the plastic, he picked up a styrofoam container and stared at the handwritten number on the top.

“Who had combo 11b?”

“That’s mine,” Paper Star responded, approaching to take it.

Crackle passed out everyone’s food, and Neal opened his immediately and then stared down inside the container. There was indeed a side salad, some sort of noodles, and then a blackish meat in a dark sauce. He could see Dash staring over at him out of the corner of his eye, and so he gave the food a sniff, but all he could smell was the sauce.

“Raw fish?” he guessed.

“No, it’s cooked,” Dash corrected, snapping apart his chopsticks.

“But it’s fish, and not something weird?”

Dash rolled his eyes. “Yes, Neal, it’s fish,”

Neal was fine with fish, but he was still suspicious. “And the sauce is teriyaki?”

“Yes,” Dash responded, and he opened his own container.

Neal squinted at Dash’s food, and saw a neat stack of white meat. “What did you get?”

“Snow Crab,” Dash replied.

Neal was still feeling suspicious, and he glanced over at Double Trouble who were trying to figure out how to use the chopsticks. He watched them fumble for a few minutes, and then to his amusement they finally stabbed the chopsticks into their sushi like a spear and then began eating it that way.

Neal snapped apart his own chopsticks, and then hesitantly picked up a small bit of the meat and gave it another sniff. It smelled perfectly fine and so he tasted it. The meat was soft, and a bit oily, but the flavour was fine, and so shrugged and began eating, trying his best to ignore the smirk Dash sent his way.

Crackle was eating his with an odd expression, and so finally it was Otterman who questioned him on it.

“You don’t like sashimi?”

“It’s...alright,” Crackle said hesitantly. “It would be better if it was grilled though.”

He didn’t notice the glare Paper Star sent his way.

Neal then noticed he was the only one who had this particular meat. “What did you say this fish was again?” he asked with a frown.

“Unagi,” Dash replied with another smirk.

“Right, unagi,” Neal repeated, still not sure what was wrong with his food. 

He finished the fish, and then hesitantly tried the noodle dish, the vinegary flavour going well with the teriyaki.

“So what kind of fish is unagi anyway?” he asked.

“Eel,” Paper Star responded without looking up at him.

Neal froze and then looked down at his food, aware of how Dash looked like he was trying to hold back laughter.

“Aw,” Neal said in disappointment, “Cannibalism.” 

“Just seemed fitting to me,” Dash commented, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Looks like you’re committing cannibalism too,” Neal observed, pointing towards Dash’s food.

“What?” Dash asked with a frown. 

“You’re a cannibal.”

“I’m eating crab, how is **that** canni…” Dash then cut off, and rolled his eyes. “oh haha, very funny, grease-stain.”

Neal glanced over at what everyone else was eating and his gaze settled on Moose Boy’s California Rolls.

“Hey, Henrik, can I try one of your sushi rolls?”

“Yeah, sure,” Moose Boy replied, holding out his tray towards him.

Neal reached out with his chopsticks and nabbed one off the tray, but as he was bringing it back, the sushi slipped out of his grasp, and fell to the floor.

“Five second rule!” Neal announced, quickly grabbing it again.

“THAT’S NOT A THING!” Dash cried out in absolute horror. “DON’T YOU **DARE** EAT THAT!”

Neal picked a bit of cat hair off the sushi, made a show of blowing imaginary dust off it, and then popped it into his mouth as Dash gagged.

“Neal, you are the most **disgusting** human being who ever oozed their way into existence!” Dash snarled, setting his food aside. “Now I’ve lost my appetite.”

Neal simply sent him a smirk.

“What’s this green stuff?” Moose Boy asked, poking at the paste beside his food.

“The best part of the sushi,” Neal replied, “You should try it.”

Moose Boy gave it another poke. “But what is it?”

“Wasabi,” Paper Star replied, turning to stare at him.

“Try it,” Neal insisted, grinning wide.

Otterman let out a deep sigh. “Neal stop trying to get Henrik to-”

“Okay, I’ll try it!” Moose Boy exclaimed, scooping the whole pile of wasabi into his mouth.

“_ NEJ _!” Otterman bellowed in alarm. “Henrik, no!”

Moose Boy sat there with wide eyes, and everyone stared at him in silence, simply waiting for his reaction. Moose Boy didn’t move a muscle, and simply sat there with an odd expression on his face. He swallowed heavily, smacked his lips with a grimace, but then gave a shrug.

“I like it,” he finally stated, “It’s spicy.”

No one knew what to say to that, and even Paper Star looked a bit taken aback. 

“Do...do you need a drink, Henrik?” Otterman asked.

“_ Nej _.”

“I...I think you should have some water or something,” Otterman said, sounding a bit uncertain.

“_ Nej _, I’m alright,” Moose Boy assured him.

“Better be careful kissing him, Sven, or you could end up with heartburn,” Neal teased with a giggle.

Otterman was immediately defensive. "We're not a couple!" he snapped.

Neal raised a brow in amusement. "Really, love? I worked with you two during the Berlin caper, and I shared a wall with you guys at our motel. By the sounds you were making all night long, I can confirm you either have the weirdest sleep apnea ever, or that Moose Boy is **very** good at what he does."

"I'm the best," Moose Boy confirmed with a proud nod.

Otterman flushed scarlet. "Shut up, Henrik!" he cried out in horror, “You moron!”

“What?” Moose Boy asked, expression growing confused. “What did I do?”

“I don’t care what either of you do in your leisure time as long as it doesn’t affect your job,” Crackle commented, frowning between the two Swedes.

Neal burst into laughter, and Otterman simply groaned, and clapped his hands to his face without another word. Crackle’s com then began to ring, and he reached for it, wondering who would be calling him this late. Turning the com over, he sat up straight when he saw it was Dr. Bellum. Hurriedly setting his food aside, he answered it, the doctor’s impatient face appearing on the screen.

“Evening, Crackle,” she greeted.

“Good evening, Dr. Bellum,” Crackle responded, his tone nothing but respectful. “How can I help you?”

“Do you know where Carmen Sandiego currently is?” she demanded.

Crackle gave her a slow nod. “Yes, ma’am, it was just brought to our attention that she’s in Kazakhstan.”

“So far your team has been very disappointing,” she stated, “You’ve been in San Diego for nearly a month but yet you’ve accomplished **nothing**.”

“My apologies, Dr. Bellum,” Crackle answered, feeling completely ashamed. “We haven’t been able to locate their base yet. I managed to place a tracker on Carmen Sandiego however, and I’m hopeful she’ll lead us straight to her base.”

“There is likely no need for that,” Dr. Belum responded, running a hand through her hair with a sigh.

Crackle gave her a questioning look and so she elaborated.

“It appears Dr. Vesalius has done what the six of you couldn’t,” she stated with a frown, “A few hours ago, he shot her, and the wound may have been fatal.”

The whole room went silent, Dr. Bellum now having their complete and undivided attention.

“We have no way to confirm her death as of right now, and so your team is going to remain in San Diego for another three weeks to see if she returns. If there’s no sign of her, your team will be dissolved.”

Crackle didn’t know what to say to this. “I...I understand.”

“How is Dash Haber recovering?” she asked.

“He’s been improving,” Crackle assured her, “Dr. Vess said he should be fully recovered in a couple weeks. The infection should be cleared by then.”

Dr. Bellum nodded. “Keep me informed on his recovery. Your team has been a great disappointment, and it’s clear you need a lot more training before you can be trusted as a leader again.”

Crackle kept his expression indifferent, but he clenched his hands into fists, her words obviously bothering him a lot.

“I will contact you soon with further instructions.”

Without another word, she disconnected the call. Crackle stared at the com for a long moment, and then slowly set it aside.

“Crackle, you okay, love?”

Crackle felt like he’d just been punched in the gut. They had failed, and he had disappointed Dr. Bellum. Another operative had shot Carmen Sandiego when they hadn’t even come close to harming her. Crackle’s eyes widened as he remembered the horrible punishments he’d endured in Dr. Bellum’s lab, and he didn’t want to return to that. He should have worked harder. He should have made his team work harder. 

“Crackle?” Theodore questioned.

Crackle dug his nails into his knees as he sat there, terrified but trying his hardest to hide it. His team gathered around him worriedly, and Neal took a seat beside him.

“Hey, wombat, everything will be alright,” he assured him, setting a hand on his shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault. There was nothing we could have done differently.”

“We had no way of knowing she was leaving the country,” Dash pointed out, “They **can’t** blame you for this.”

“Sure they can,” Paper Star commented with a shrug. “He had plenty of opportunities to kill her, but he squandered them to keep you guys alive. It’s weakness, and V.I.L.E will not tolerate it.”

Roosevelt clapped Crackle on the back. “That’s not a weakness,” he disagreed, “Caring for those weaker than you is a **strength.**”

Crackle squinted up at Roosevelt, this sounding nothing like the normally dim man.

“I doubt she’s dead anyway,” Dash commented, “Carmen Sandiego is like a cockroach that just keeps coming back again and again. I’m sure she’ll show up again sooner or later.”

Crackle’s whole mission was to find and kill Carmen Sandiego, but he too wished she would survive this. If Carmen survived, his team would remain together, and he’d get another chance to prove himself. Crackle took a deep breath. There was nothing they could do except wait.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Chase and Julia stepped off the plane and descended the stairs, seeing a car waiting for them nearby. Chase forced himself to walk normally, but Julia could tell his leg was still bothering him a lot. Knowing how stubborn he could be, Julia doubted he would accept her help or even a painkiller if she offered it. Chase clearly wanted to appear strong and ready for anything, and Julia couldn't help but worry about him.

Normally Player would have arranged to have their disguises ready for them, but now they were left to wing it wearing regular suits. Their plan was to pretend to be part of Interpol in order to gain access to the crime scene. From what they were able to research on the trip over, it appeared that Player had already been discovered missing, but his parents didn’t know where he had gone. They had come home from work and he was simply gone. When he hadn’t returned by morning, they had contacted the police, but there were no signs of Player anywhere. 

As they made their way towards their black rental car, they both clipped their Interpol IDs to their jackets, hoping no one would think to contact Interpol to verify their identity. Chase got into the driver’s seat and as he started the ignition, Julia shot him a worried glance. Chase had been oddly silent since the day before, and Julia had a feeling Player being kidnapped was hitting too close to home for him. His own daughter was taken by Volkov, and now another child they were close to was taken as well.

It was a forty minute drive from the Markham airport to Niagara Falls, and Chase seemed to grow more and more tense as they drove along. Every time Julia tried to start a conversation, his responses were short and close-ended. After a time, Julia gave up and the only sounds within the car was the voice from the GPS. 

Player’s house was just a couple streets away from the crowded Clifton Hill where most of the Niagara Falls attractions were located, and Chase had to drive slowly as tourists walked in the street. Chase slammed his hand on the horn incessantly and was getting angrier and angrier as people kept stepping out in front of his car.

“OUT OF THE WAY!” he bellowed out the window, “WALK ON THE SIDEWALKS! MOVE! GET OFF THE STREET!”

“Chase…” Julia said with a frown.

“Look at these people!” Chase cried out, waving a hand towards the crowds. “This is ridiculous! They should all be ticketed!”

“It’s a tourist area, and so this is to be expected,” Julia pointed out.

Chase banged a fist on the horn again, ignoring Julia as he once again yelled out the window. “I’M TRYING TO DRIVE HERE! GET OUT OF THE STREET!”

A lady stopped walking, turned a withering glare at him and then gave him the finger.

“ARG! PEOPLE ARE SO RUDE HERE!” Chase yelled, holding down the horn for so long that people turned to stare.

Julia reached over and laid a gentle hand on his arm. “Chase, it’s alright, we’re almost there. Please calm down.”

Chase made an aggravated noise in the back of his throat, and didn’t reply. Reaching over, Julia hit the button to slide Chase’s window up.

“Every second counts,” Chase said, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. “Every second we sit here, is another second Player is left in danger. We need to save him, and these idiot tourists are blocking us!”

Once again Julia rested a hand on his arm. He turned to look at her, and when he saw her expression of concern, he let out a deep sigh of resignation. He visibly sagged in defeat, and then sat in silence as he waited for the pedestrians to move out of his way. Julia kept a gentle hand on his arm, and Chase began slowly driving again, not saying a word when he had to stop several more times. Reaching the crest of the hill, they turned and luckily there weren’t many people on this street. 

‘You have reached your destination.’

They both jumped at the sudden loud exclamation from the GPS, and Chase scowled at it. Looking up, they knew which house was Player’s when they saw four police cars parked in front of the tiny house. Parking on the street, Chase exchanged a look with Julia and then they exited the car, hoping they could pull this off.

Chase ran a hand through his hair a couple times, and then they started up the walkway towards the front door. An officer was standing on the front porch smoking, and when he saw them, he held out a hand to stop them.

“I’m sorry, but no one is allowed inside at this time. We have an amber alert, and the home is being searched.”

“Yes, I am well aware!” Chase said, his tone dripping with condescension. “We were called in to do our own investigations.”

The officer raised a brow and then snuffed out his cigarette. “Are you RCMP?”

“_ Non _,” Chase replied with a snort, “We are with Interpol.”

The officer’s eyes widened. “Interpol?! Why is Interpol involved in the case of a runaway?”

“We have reason to believe this is not a runaway,” Julia stated, reaching up to adjust her glasses. “We are currently investigating a series of crimes, and we think this may be somehow involved.”

The officer was clearly skeptical. “Identification?”

Chase and Julia both handed over their Interpol I.Ds and the officer squinted at them with a frown. It was obvious he’d never seen an Interpol I.D before because he turned the cards one way and then another, a look of confusion on his face.

“You are impeding our investigation,” Chase said impatiently, “Do I need to speak with your police chief? I am going to hold you personally responsible for this!”

“Sir, that tone won’t work with me,” the officer replied, handing the cards back, “We’re all on the same side here, and I’d appreciate it if you could show me the same level of respect I’ve been showing you.”

“I apologize,” Julia spoke up before Chase could respond, “It’s been a long morning for us, and this case is anything but cheery.”

“What exactly are you investigating?” the officer asked, crossing his arms.

“That is confidential!” Chase snapped, crossing his arms as well.

“We are keeping any theories we have to ourselves until we gather more evidence,” Julia explained, “I’m sure you understand the sensitive nature of this case.”

“I suppose,” the officer responded, “Very well, go on in. My supervisor will likely ask for your I.D again once you’re inside. She’s a stickler for the rules, and so don’t be surprised if she calls Interpol to verify your credentials.”

Chase grimaced, but nodded all the same.

“Thank you,” Julia said, following Chase inside.

The inside of the home was cluttered with books, and everywhere they looked were stacks upon stacks of books. Stepping down the hallway, they passed a few officers who were chatting and they saw a woman sitting on the stairs head in hand sobbing.

“His mother,” Chase said confidently.

No one else was near her for the moment, and Chase cautiously approached, never one to be good with tears.

“Ma’am?” he said softly.

The woman looked up, and they could see Player’s round face in her features, and they knew for sure this was his mother.

“Yes?” she asked, “Have you found him yet?”

“We’re still doing our investigations,” Julia said, offering the woman a sympathetic look. 

“No one will listen to me,” the woman said, once again clutching her head. “Why won’t you listen?”

Chase knelt down in front of her, and gently took her hands in his own. “We’re listening,” he assured her, “If you know anything at all, we will listen to you.”

“I told them that Matteo wouldn’t have run away, that he’s not that kind of boy, but they wouldn’t listen to me. They told me that 13 year old boys run away all the time and that I have nothing to be worried about, but I know something is wrong! He’d never do this to us, he’d never leave without telling us where he’s going!”

Chase and Julia both nodded. 

“What do you believe happened?” Julia asked.

“Someone took him,” she replied, tears falling down her cheeks, “Someone took Matteo.”

“I believe you,” Chase said firmly.

The woman seemed surprised. “You do?”

Chase nodded. “We’re beginning a new line of investigations, and I believe you’re right.”

A brief flash of relief crossed her face. “Do you know who took him?”

Chase shook his head. “Not yet, but I promise we'll find him. We will do everything in our power to bring your son home safely.”

She wiped the tears from her cheeks. “How can I help?”

“I understand that your son was into computers?”

She nodded. “Oh yes, he’s always chatting with his online friends and playing games. He’s such a smart boy. Did you know he built all his computers himself?”

“No, I didn’t know that,” Chase admitted, knowing from experience how smart Player was. “Can you show us his computers?”

“His computers? Why?”

“We’re looking for any hint at all to who may have taken him,” Julia replied, “They may have sent him a message, or they may have been trying to chat with him.”

A look of horror crossed the woman’s face. “He knows better than to talk to strangers! He’d never do something like that!”

“Sometimes these people can be very persuasive,” Julia answered, “It’s better to be safe than sorry, and check his computer.”

“None of the other officers asked about his computer,” she pointed out.

“We’re investigating other possibilities,” Julia said, “It’s really crucial we take a look as soon as possible. Every second counts.”

Wiping her eyes again, the woman nodded and then motioned for them to follow her. She led them down to the basement where a massive computer setup was leaning against one of the walls. 

“Go ahead and take a look,” she invited, “I’m going to speak with my husband for a moment.”

They watched her leave, and the second she was gone Julia rushed for the computers and began removing the tower shells. She yanked out the harddrives, and then checked the surrounding drawers on the computer desk and seized all thumb drives and SD cards. Chase was glad to leave this stuff to her, because he had no idea what was important and what wasn’t.

“Where’s the V.I.L.E drive?” Julia asked out loud, frowning as she looked around. “Help me look.”

Although Chase only vaguely knew what the V.I.L.E drive looked like, he helped her move objects around the room, looking for where Player hid it. 

“It has to be here somewhere!” Julia said in confusion.

Chase lifted up the mattress on the nearby bed, and found a few comic books but no hard drive. They searched his dresser, and then his closet, but still no sign of the drive.

“What if we weren’t the first ones here?” Chase asked with a frown. “It took us a whole day to get here.”

Julia searched a few more places, and then had to admit that was a possibility. Reaching a hand up to her com, she activated it.

“We got Player’s computer harddrives, but the V.I.L.E drive is missing. Carmen, are you awake?”

“She is still asleep,” Shadowsan replied, “She overdid it yesterday, and she’s completely exhausted.”

“Do you know where Player kept the drive?”

“He kept it inside an encyclopedia,” Shadowsan replied.

Julia scanned the room and her eyes fell on a massive encyclopedia on the nearby bookshelf. “Okay, I see it!” she announced.

Taking it off the shelf, she opened the cover and saw the book had been hollowed out. Inside was the V.I.L.E drive. Chase and Julia both let out a breath of relief and then pocketed the drive, just as they heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Julia glanced around the room, but everything looked completely untouched. 

They were expecting Player’s mother, but instead they were met with the sight of a very familiar face. The woman was wearing a skirt and blazer, and her blond hair was pulled back into a tight bun. The woman froze with wide eyes at the sight of them, and for a long moment, no one spoke.

“Agent Zari,” Julia greeted with a grimace.

Zari narrowed her eyes to slits as she took in the sight of Chase and Julia, and then she drew her weapon.

“Freeze!” she ordered, brandishing the gas gun at them.

Without hesitation, Chase charged forward and held his breath as the trigger was pulled. Bursting through the green cloud of gas, Chase knocked the gun out of her hand. Zari winced in pain, but recovered quickly and lashed out with her fists to defend herself. Although Zari was thin, she was also a fighter, and she took Chase by surprise when her fist connected solidly with his face.

Chase had been hit in the face more times than he could count in his lifetime, and he recovered quickly, knowing they couldn’t allow her to call down reinforcements. Taking on a boxer’s stance, Chase readied himself and held up his fists as she lashed out at him. He sidestepped her swing and then retaliated with one of his own, striking her hard in the chin. Although she winced in pain for a brief second, she went right back for him, clearly not willing to let them go.

Chase then noticed she had heels on, and in a split-second decision, he kicked at her ankle as hard as he could. Sure enough, Zari’s ankle turned and she fell to the floor, Chase pinning her down in an instant. Zari stared up at him in absolute fury and struggled, but Chase didn’t let her go. Just as she kneed him in the groin, Chase grabbed her gas gun from the floor. Zari kneed him in the face as he fell to his knees, and just as she pulled her fist back to hit him, he shot her in the face with a blast of gas from the gun. 

A brief look of betrayal crossed her face, and then she slumped to the ground unconscious. Chase clutched at his groin with a pained groan, but forced himself back to his feet, knowing they had to get out of there. Julia had stood and watched the fight, never feeling more helpless in her life. Julia wasn’t a fighter, and had frozen when the confrontation started.

“Chase, I’m sorry-” she began.

She didn’t have a chance to say more because Chase seized her by the hand and then they were running up the stairs. 

“Argent Marco to your left,” Julia hissed.

Chase screeched to a halt at the sight of the dark haired man, and turned to head the other way. Cutting through the living room past several officers, they found the back door and headed for it.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

They paused at the sound of Player’s mother, and turned to face her.

“Yes, ma’am,” Chase replied, “We now have to investigate our findings.”

“We’ll keep in touch,” Julia assured her, as Chase opened the door.

“Why are you leaving through the back?” she asked them in confusion.

“Checking for clues as we head back to our vehicle,” Chase replied distractedly.

Without waiting for her response, they ran out the door and circled the house back to the front. They could see a very conspicuous black car parked out front and two more A.C.M.E agents were waiting next to it. Having no choice, they ran past them, and Chase shoved them hard to the ground as he passed, heading for the car as fast as they could. Chase unlocked the doors, and they jumped in just as the A.C.M.E agents charged towards them, weapons drawn. Sticking his key in the ignition, Chase floored the gas, and the A.C.M.E agents dove out of the way just in time.

As they sped down the street, they both let out a deep breath of relief. Julia then gave Chase a guilty look.

“I just stood there watching as you were in danger. Chase, I’m so sorry.”

Chase let out a dismissive snort. “Don’t be ridiculous, Julia, you don’t know how to fight. What good would you have done?”

Chase had obviously meant this in a reassuring way, but it hit Julia hard. It was true, what **could** she have done? Julia had never fought in her life, and what use was she to the team if she couldn’t step in if she needed to? How could she help protect her friends if she was always just a damsel in distress? Julia was an excellent shot with a gun, and she knew her way around computers, but she’d never been very physically adept.

This was twice now Chase had gotten hurt while she could do nothing to help. Julia clenched her fists, and for the first time in her life, she wanted to fight. Never again would she stand aside as someone else fought.

Julia was going to ask to be trained. She would be a part of Team Red in all ways.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Siren was feeling awful when he woke, and he let out a low groan of complaint, raising a hand to his face. There was a painful tug on his arm and when he opened his eyes, he saw there was an IV in his arm. He stared at the IV stand beside him, noting that there were a couple bags of saline set up. He was still feeling drowsy and squinted around the room in confusion. What happened? Was he sick? Glancing down at himself, he saw he was in his own bed and frowned. His head was pounding, and he closed his eyes again, just wanting to sleep. It was then that his alarm clock went off, sending stabs of agony through his skull.

Giving another groan, he glared at the alarm clock and reached out towards it. Picking it up, he then threw it against the wall as hard as he could. It made a very satisfying smashing noise, and Siren closed his eyes, having every intention of skipping work that day. He had no idea why his head was pounding like it was, but knew he had no desire to move.

He was just starting to drift back to sleep when he heard his bedroom door open. Knowing there was only one person who would ever enter his room without knocking, he kept his eyes closed, feigning sleep.

A few seconds later, he felt hands checking his IV, and he then heard Dr. Vess sigh in irritation. Assuming Vess had noticed the broken clock, Siren knew he’d be given a new one by the end of the day. He’d smashed dozens of them over the years, but for some reason they still insisted on making him get up early every single morning. Siren was definitely not a morning person, and he was positively foul when he was tired. Siren had always been a night-owl and so getting up at 7:30am was pure torture. 

Vess gently removed his IV, disinfected the area, and then pressed a bandage over the small wound.

“I’m starting you on a few medications,” Vess informed him, “Hopefully within a few days, we’ll begin to see some improvements.”

Siren had no desire to get up and ignored him, still pretending he was asleep.

“You have to be to work in thirty minutes, and so I suggest you get up.”

Siren stubbornly kept his eyes closed.

“I know you’re awake,” Vess said impatiently, “Sit up and take your medication, and then get yourself cleaned up for work.”

“Fuck off, Numa,” Siren muttered tiredly.

Siren didn’t move, and a second later he was pinched sharply on the arm. Letting out a yelp of surprise, Siren gave a jerk and reflexively opened his eyes. He then glared up at Vess who was holding a small plastic cup with pills in it.

“Get up,” Vess ordered impatiently, “You have a few stitches you need to be careful of, but you’re still able to walk and you’re still able to work.”

“I’m using a sick day,” Siren responded, rolling away from him. “Get out of my room.”

Vess gave him another hard pinch, and Siren kicked out at him, missing by several inches. Vess then forcibly turned him around, and Siren only now noticed how angry the other man looked. Vess’ expression was tired and fed-up, and it was clear he wasn’t in the mood to deal with this.

“No, you are getting up and you’re going to work,” Vess told him firmly. “Apparently I can’t even take my eyes off you for twenty fucking minutes without you causing mayhem in this building. I’m keeping you where I can see you for today.”

Siren had no idea what Vess was talking about, and struggled to remember what had happened. His memories were a bit fuzzy, but he remembered something about Terry, and something about the lower basement. Resting a hand on his side, he could feel tenderness there, and he felt like something important had happened. His head ached as he tried to remember, but everything was a blur, and it was frustrating.

“How did I get hurt?” Siren demanded.

Vess stared at him with narrowed eyes, as if debating whether or not to answer. “There was an incident,” he finally replied, “One that we don’t want repeated. Now take your medication and get up.”

Siren rubbed at his sore head, and wished he could remember what had happened. Everything within him was screaming that it was important, but his mind was filled with a thick fog.

Reaching out a hand, he took the cup of pills and stared down at them with a frown. He didn’t recognize any of them.

“What are these?” he demanded.

“Antidepressants, a mild sedative, and...a few other things.”

“What other things?” Siren asked, rattling the pills around in the bottom of the cup.

“Just take the damn pills,” Vess said impatiently, “I don’t have time for this. You know very well I wouldn’t give you anything dangerous.”

Siren accepted the bottle of water shoved into his hands and he picked up the first pill and then popped it into his mouth. He took the pills one by one and when he’d taken the last one, Vess gave him a nod of approval.

“I expect you in the lab in thirty minutes or I’m sending someone to look for you.”

Siren gave him a foul look. “Why can’t I take a sick day?” he demanded, “I’m tired, and my head hurts.”

“Hurts?” Vess questioned, pulling a penlight out of his pocket. He reached forward to check Siren’s eyes who winced when the light was shone into them. “Describe the pain to me.”

Siren shrugged, and Vess gave him an impatient look.

“Is the pain sharp or is it more like a dull throb?” he demanded.

Siren slapped Vess’ hands away from his face. “It feels like my skull is splitting open.”

Vess frowned thoughtfully. “It’s likely a reaction from the anesthesia,” he commented more to himself than to Siren. “I’ll give you a mild painkiller when you get to the lab.”

Siren heaved a sigh, knowing he was never going to be allowed to take a sick day. It was clear Vess was angry at him about something, and whenever Siren got on his bad side, that’s when his workload suddenly increased.

“What am I doing today?” he demanded.

“You’ve been slacking for the last two days and your work has been piling up. I expect 300 translations by the end of the day to make up for it.”

Siren stared at him with wide eyes. “300?! Are you **crazy**?!”

“Want it to be 400?”

Siren went silent, and then let out a sigh of resignation. “Fine.”

Vess eyed him a moment, but when it seemed clear Siren was going to do as he was told, he gathered up his medical supplies and left without another word. Siren watched him leave the room, and then slowly got to his feet, stretching as he did so. Wincing in pain, he glanced down at himself and saw he was wearing a clean hospital gown. Scowling at the fact Vess had at some point dressed him, he pulled it off and then looked down at the stitches on his stomach.

The stitches were red and sore, but they honestly didn’t look that bad. Realizing Vess hadn’t mentioned whether he could shower or not, Siren hesitated a moment before deciding not to chance it. 

Getting dressed, he rubbed at his eyes irritably and then headed for the door, knowing this was going to be a long and boring day of paperwork. Yawning tiredly, he made his way down the hall towards the lab, not really paying much attention to the people around him. He didn’t notice the way guards scattered at the sight of him, nor did he notice when someone began following after him.

Hearing footsteps running up behind him, Siren started to turn around but was suddenly shoved hard in the back sending him face-first into the wall. His nose smashed into the concrete, and Siren felt an explosion of pain as his nose began gushing blood. He fell to the floor, stunned and he heard a snort of laughter behind him.

Clutching at his bloody nose, he rolled over and looked up, having no idea what was going on. Michael Jr. stood over him, expression set into a cocky smirk, and Siren’s eyes widened.

“What the hell are **you** doing here?!” Siren yelped out, scrambling backwards away from him.

Michael seemed incredibly pleased with himself and took a step closer. “Hey, Eunuch,” he greeted, “Did you miss me?”

Siren got back to his feet, and wiped the blood from his face with the sleeve of his lab coat. “As much as I would miss a pimple on my ass,” he retorted, furious at himself when he felt tears well in his eyes from the pain. 

Siren hated how sensitive he was, and tried with every ounce of self-control he had to hold his tears back. He wouldn’t cry in front of Michael, he refused. That’s what the boy wanted, and he wasn’t going to do it.

Michael’s eyes widened momentarily, and then he let out a snort. “You’re awfully bold this morning,” he pointed out, “Maybe I should smash your face into the floor a few more times? Maybe that will change your attitude?”

“Stay away from me, Michael,” Siren warned, backing up a few steps, “Don’t make me tell, Vess!”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Oh, yes, you little snitch. Run off and tattle!”

Siren eyed him for a moment. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here now,” Michael responded with a shrug.

Siren felt like he’d just been punched in the gut. He had never gotten along with Michael for brief visits, let alone for any extended period. He shook his head in denial. No. Vess would never allow Michael to live there indefinitely. Michael was just messing with him.

“Oh, whatever,” Siren muttered, turning away. “I have to get to work.”

Michael gave him another shove and Siren almost lost his balance, but managed to catch himself against the wall.

“Don’t touch me!” Siren snarled, turning furious eyes to the boy.

Michael raised a brow. “Now **this** is interesting, you really **are** feeling brave today.”

“Are you bored or something?” Siren demanded with a scowl.

“Yeah, I am,” Michael admitted, “This lab is a boring shithole”

“Then piss off back to Ireland,” Siren muttered angrily.

“Can’t,” Michael responded, “Numa ordered me to stay here until people forget about the fact I’m a wanted man.”

“Well, at least **someone** wants you,” Siren responded, pushing past Michael to get by.

Michael grabbed him by the arm to stop him. “You never learn, Eunuch,” he commented, “You always have to run your mouth and disrespect me!”

Siren heaved a deep sigh. “Do you really need to go through this whole show of alpha dog aggression every single time we meet? **You** know you’re stronger than me, **I** know you’re stronger than me, every single fucking person in this **lab** knows you’re stronger than me. What do you hope to accomplish with this?”

Michael’s eyes became a bit uncertain for a moment, and then he quickly became angry. “I think you need a beating!” he snarled. “I’m sick of you backtalking me!”

Siren was suddenly jerked back by the arm, and he stumbled into Michael hard, losing his balance. Using his hands to attempt to push away from the other man, the only thing he accomplished was knocking Michael to the floor with him as he fell. 

Michael cursed as his elbow hit the floor as he fell, and he was instantly furious. “You did that on purpose!” he accused.

Siren struggled underneath him, but was pinned down and he couldn’t move. “Get off me!” he snapped.

Michael sat up, but didn’t get off him, instead grabbing Siren by the front of the lab coat and pulling him up as he raised his fist to hit him. Siren cringed back and raised his hands to cover his face, knowing from experience how hard Michael could hit.

“Is there a problem here?” came a voice from behind them.

They looked up and saw an enormous guard standing over them, baton drawn. Michael sneered at him, and didn’t release his hold on Siren.

“Mind your own business, fatty,” Michael ordered, “The little weasel and I are in the middle of something.”

“I am Siren’s new guard, and after the incident the other day, I have been instructed to protect him from any attacks.”

“New guard?!” Siren questioned, lowering his hands, “Where’s Kevin?”

The guard didn’t respond, never taking his eyes off Michael.

“Look rent-a-cop, I have special privileges here. I can pick on the dick-less wonder all I want. I’ve been doing it for years.”

“You will let him up,” the guard ordered, “**Now**.”

Michael narrowed his eyes and then looked the guard up and down. The man was easily six and a half feet tall, and was pure muscle and Michael knew he probably wouldn’t win a fight. Not wanting to look like he was backing down, Michael scowled down at Siren.

“You’re lucky I’m late for...something,” he commented, finally releasing him. “I would have beat the shit out of you otherwise.”

Siren said nothing. 

Once Michael was back to his feet, he scoffed at the guard and then turned and stormed away. Siren watched him leave and then wiped a bit more blood from his face. Getting back to his feet, he looked up at the enormous guard.

“Er...thanks,” he said awkwardly.

“You’re not where you’re supposed to be,” the guard replied, tone firm. “Head to the lab or I will be forced to drag you there.”

Siren simply stared at him in confusion. “What?”

“I was hired to keep you in line, and you will do as you’re told and go to work. Give me a hard time, and I will have no choice but to use force.”

“What?” Siren repeated, completely confused.

“A schedule has been drafted for you, and right now you are supposed to be in the lab working until 5pm. If you don’t willingly start walking, then I will use force to **make** you.”

Siren raised a brow. “I don’t know who you think you are, Gorilla-Kevin, but your job is to guard and that’s it.”

“Are you refusing to comply?” the guard demanded.

Siren crossed his arms, his curiosity piqued. “What if I am?”

Without any hesitation, the guard brought down his baton and struck Siren hard across the back. The force almost knocked him off his feet, and Siren staggered before catching himself against the wall. Fighting desperately to hold back his tears of pain, he let out a loud curse, and then turned furious eyes to the guard.

“Your ass is out of here!” he snarled, “How **dare** you lay a hand on me!”

The guard's response was to strike him a second time, and Siren let out a howl of pain, the blow taking him by surprise. Without another word, he fled from the guard at a run, who followed behind him, his every movement threatening. Siren made it to the lab, and Vess glanced up as he entered, taking in the sight of his distressed lab partner with a frown. Siren headed straight for him and then pointed an accusing finger at the new guard.

“He’s fired!” he snarled, wiping his tears aside in humiliation.

Vess glanced between Siren and the guard, and then raised an eyebrow. “It’s his first day, I’m **not** firing him. I had to hire all new staff because of you.”

“He hit me!” Siren cried out. “Twice!”

Vess turned his attention to the guard who nodded in agreement. 

“He was refusing to comply,” the guard stated, “I struck him until his attitude changed.”

“I see,” Vess replied without interest, “Get to work, Siren.”

Siren was instantly furious. “He **hit** me!” he repeated, “Do something!”

Vess steepled his fingers together and then gave Siren an impatient look. “Braxton has been hired for a very specific reason, Siren. He has been hired to make sure you don’t cause any more trouble. He has been authorized to use mild force to get you to comply. V.I.L.E is tired of the trouble you’ve been causing and so my hands are tied in regards to this. Do as you’re told, and you won’t have any problems.”

Siren was completely flabbergasted. “Are you serious?! V.I.L.E hired a gorilla to follow me around and hit me if I disagree with him?!”

“It appears so,” Vess replied, turning his attention back to the paperwork on his desk. “I have nothing to do with this, and so kindly let me get back to work.”

Siren swept the paperwork off Vess’ desk in a fit of anger. “Like hell I’m going to allow this!”

Vess let out a deep sigh. “Siren, just let it go. There’s nothing you can do about this. Prove to V.I.L.E you can be trusted and perhaps they’ll be a little more lenient.”

“You’re seriously going to do **nothing**?!” Siren cried out in fury.

Vess simply reached down to pick up his paperwork without a word.

Siren glared over at Braxton, realizing he would have to deal with this in a different way. He would get the man fired one way or another.

Letting out another curse, he crossed the room to his own desk, glaring at the guard the whole time he did so. Taking a seat, he glowered at the massive pile of paperwork, having a feeling this was another punishment. He couldn’t remember what he had done to earn this type of treatment, but he had a feeling something serious had happened.

There were two painkillers and a bottle of water sitting on top of the paperwork, and Siren snatched them, hoping they would help with his migraine. 

Wiping at his eyes irritably, he then grabbed one of the papers and began translating, humming angrily to himself in an attempt to calm down. Siren was actually quick when it came to paperwork, and so after an hour, he had completed a pretty good stack of translations.

“I’ll be back in fifteen minutes,” Vess informed him, getting up without another word.

Siren watched him approach the door and didn’t answer, still feeling furious with the other man. Vess claimed to be completely innocent when it came to Braxton, but Siren seriously doubted it. Vess hired all guards in the complex, and this one likely wasn’t any different.

“Braxton, would you come with me, please?” Vess demanded. “I want to speak with you for a few minutes alone.”

“What about **him**?” Braxton demanded, glaring at Siren.

Siren returned the glare, but said nothing.

“He’ll be fine for a few minutes,” Vess replied, shooting Siren a warning look.

Braxton narrowed his eyes at Siren but gave a nod and followed Vess out of the room. Once he was alone, Siren tossed his pen across the room as hard as he could. Whipping a few other office supplies in the general direction of Vess’ desk, he heaved a deep and angry sigh.

It was ridiculous that they expected him to put up with this. He had to figure out a way to get that guard fired. What could he do? Frame him for something? Reaching back to rub at his sore back, his whole body seemed to ache from the blows, and he scowled.

Reaching into his lab coat pocket, he pulled out all the items he’d pickpocketed from Michael during their scuffle. There was a large baggy of weed, a wallet, a pack of gum, some rolling papers, and a lighter. Knowing Michael was going to be furious when he noticed he’d been robbed, Siren smirked and opened the wallet. There were a few hundred Euros, but not too much else. He stared at Michael’s driver license who seemed about 16 in the photo, braces showing in his nervous smile. Siren was willing to bet Michael hated that picture. 

Digging through the wallet, he ignored the credit cards, and found something tucked away within a card slot. Pulling it out, he discovered a photograph, and stared at it with a frown. The photo was of a young blonde woman who, despite her smile, had a deep sadness in her eyes. She was standing in front of an apple tree, and she held a baby in her arms. She looked so much like Michael that Siren had no doubt this was his mother. Turning the photo over, he saw something was written on the back.

‘**Katherine and Michael ‘98**’

Michael didn’t seem the sentimental type, but it was clear this photo was being hidden out of sight. It was slightly crumpled around the edges like the photo had been pulled out hundreds of times. Siren stared at the photo for a moment and then carefully put it back where he’d found it. He wasn’t enough of a jerk to destroy the picture, and he had a feeling it was something Michael valued a lot. Setting the wallet aside, he turned his attention to the large bag of weed. He stared down at it for a long moment, and then cocked his head thoughtfully.

Siren doubted Michael would be able to easily replace his weed, considering they were so far away from civilization, and debated what to do with it. He was tempted to flush it down the toilet, but it seemed like a waste. Siren stared at the lighter and then at the rolling papers, debating. Giving a furtive glance towards the door, Siren opened the baggy, the overpowering stench of the weed making him gag. 

Siren poked at the bag for a moment, before pulling a small bit out. His back was in agony and maybe this would make the work day a little more tolerable? Keeping a wary eye on the door, Siren rolled as much weed as he could fit in a rolling paper, hoping he was doing it right. He’d never so much as smoked a cigarette before, and honestly wasn’t certain what to do.

He had a brief flash of memory where he was in a dark basement with a lit cigarette in his mouth, and he frowned, having no idea when that had happened. Shaking his head, he brought the joint up to his lips and lit it. 

Taking a huge puff, he immediately began coughing, the smoke absolutely foul. Grimacing at the taste, he frowned down the joint and then hesitantly brought it back to his lips. He took a second puff, and this time didn’t cough. Pocketing everything he’d stolen from Michael, he leaned back in his chair, focusing on smoking as fast as he could before Vess returned. He began feeling the effects after only half the joint, but he kept going, already feeling himself beginning to relax.

Siren then began feeling odd, his foggy mind reeling at the sensation the drugs were causing. Siren stared across the room as he smoked, his mind feeling like it was spinning out of control. Was the weed interacting with the meds Vess had given him? Everything was spinning, and he had a feeling this wasn’t right. Was this something he should be concerned about?

Siren rubbed at his head as the fog seemed to be fighting against him violently, and then suddenly the fog was simply gone. Siren’s eyes widened as suddenly a lifetime of memories slammed into him. He sat frozen in place as he remembered absolutely everything. He remembered his training days, he remembered his brothers, and he remembered the fire.

Thousands of memories burst into him mercilessly and Siren suddenly found himself vomiting on the floor as he clutched at his head. He remembered how V.I.L.E had kidnapped him after his accident, and he remembered being in agony as his body had slowly healed from the burns. It was then that Siren remembered Kevin. First Kevin.

Kevin had been his very first guard when he’d been brought to the lab. Because of how injured Siren was, he’d depended on Kevin for absolutely everything, barely able to move on his own. Kevin had been by his side 24/7, V.I.L.E knowing that he couldn’t be trusted. Siren was incredibly angry and bitter when he’d first arrived at the lab, and he’d never so much as thanked Kevin. He had treated Kevin horribly, but the other man had been patient, and never once losing his temper with him. He had taken all of Siren’s verbal abuse without a word, and after a few months, Siren mellowed out towards him. Siren had gotten quite attached to him, and it was with Kevin’s help that he learned to walk again.

Siren clenched his teeth tightly as he remembered how Kevin had died to protect him during the fire. All V.I.L.E employees were being executed, but Kevin had taken the bullets to allow him to escape. Siren thought of Terry and remembered everything that had happened in the lower basement. Terry had taken the bullets for him just as Kevin had. 

Siren remembered saving the little mute boy, and he remembered being the only V.I.L.E agent left alive at the lab. Volkov had left him behind as the building burned, and he had faced V.I.L.E’s full wrath, everyone assuming he was the one responsible. Siren sat up from where he was kneeling on the floor and clenched his fists. 

He **had** been responsible for the attack on V.I.L.E, but they could never prove it. He’d worked for months to take them down, and V.I.L.E had under-estimated him. Siren was a genius and he’d hid his true intentions from them without suspicion. They had no idea the web of death he’d begun constructing around the lab until it was too late.

Siren had tried to destroy all records of the experiments in the lab in an attempt to stop V.I.L.E from ever committing such atrocities ever again. He thought of the children in the lower basement; dozens and dozens of broken children. Volkov had been monsters, but V.I.L.E were no better. 

Siren took a deep and shaky breath as he remembered the day of the fire. Siren was the last person left alive who knew Volkov’s secrets, and he knew how dangerous that information was. He’d shattered his own mind using the very experiments V.I.L.E didn’t understand, and V.I.L.E were never able to get any useful information out of him. They had beaten him, they had tortured him, but the memories had remained locked away. V.I.L.E had spent the last ten years trying to replicate the experiments without success.

All the experiments had died except for little Yuri Volkov, and Siren had torched any relevant paperwork. Everything was gone and Siren was the only one who knew. V.I.L.E had made him translate useless paperwork for over ten years, not knowing he’d already destroyed everything. They would never get their hands on the research.

Wave after wave of memories kept slamming into his mind and Siren once again vomited as he was overwhelmed. It was too much, way too much. 

It was then that Vess and Braxton re-entered the lab. Vess’ gaze immediately fell on Siren, and he quickly approached him, kneeling down beside him.

Siren cringed as Vess laid a hand on his back, and he stared up at Vess, knowing the other man couldn’t be trusted. Vess was a danger to **everyone**. Vess was trying to create monsters for V.I.L.E, and he was getting closer and closer at succeeding.

“The medications have upset your stomach,” Vess commented thoughtfully. “Couldn’t you have aimed for the garbage can?”

“Go to hell,” Siren snapped, pushing Vess away from him.

Completely unbothered, Vess turned to Braxton. “Radio a custodian to come clean this up.”

Braxton nodded, and did as he was told.

“You’re looking a bit pale,” Vess observed, “Have you eaten today?”

Siren had no desire to look at Vess right now, and he got to his feet, his mind in complete chaos as memories crashed through his mind like a tornado.

“I’m using a sick day,” Siren informed him, turning away. “I’m **sick**, and I’m not working like this.”

Vess sniffed the air and then wrinkled his nose in disapproval at the smell of the weed. “Was Michael in here?” he asked.

Siren wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Briefly,” he lied, “He said something about being bored and then left again. I’m taking a sick day, and I want to go back to bed.”

Vess eyed him for a moment and then let out a deep sigh. “Fine, I’ll authorize a sick day, but you are expected to complete **all** your missed paperwork. Take it with you, and complete it when you’re feeling a bit better. Your stomach should settle down once you’ve had something to eat. I’ll send someone to bring you breakfast shortly.”

Siren just wanted to get away from Vess, and so he nodded and fled towards the door, taking the paperwork with him. The memories were overwhelming and he just wanted to take the time to go through them in peace. Having an eidetic memory was a curse in this instant, his mind spinning and spinning as thousands of memories kept coming. 

To his annoyance, Braxton followed after him, and Siren had a feeling he’d been assigned to follow him 24/7. Knowing this was going to make things extremely difficult for him, he’d have to find a way to get rid of this guard as soon as possible. Ignoring him for now, Siren made his way to his private quarters, and saw a chair was sitting outside his door. It was now confirmed that Braxton was not going to let him out of his sight. Siren said nothing, and simply entered his room and then closed the door in the other man’s face. 

He threw the paperwork as hard as he could across the room, watching as the papers fluttered all around him in a shower of white. Curling up on his bed, Siren knew that he was only certain of one thing right now. He couldn’t allow V.I.L.E to complete their experiments. V.I.L.E needed to be taken down. He’d done it once before, and he’d do it again. He’d burn all of V.I.L.E to the ground.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**The next several chapters are mostly going to focus on Team Crackle, so hopefully everyone is fine with that!**

**I'm going to do my best to get chapter 23 out in two weeks by the 15th at the absolute latest. I've been working on a lot of side-fics at the same time as this one, and so that's why updates are a little slower than normal. Please forgive the delay! **

**UPDATE!!!!!**

**Sorry everyone, but I've been in a serious funk and the chapter is going to be late. It will be delayed by one week and will be posted on April. 22nd. It will be posted on that day for sure! **

**A huge thank you to the super-talented artists who did artwork for this chapter!**

**Violetfic is responsible for the pics of MJ's mother and Player's mother!**

**Coulrosaurus is responsible for the pic of Crackle!**

**Credit for the names of Otterman and Moose Boy go to Animedemon01**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**

**Please don't forget to let me know what you think! **


	23. Patient D.D

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone!
> 
> Sorry for another long delay on this chapter, but I have had zero motivation to do anything lately. I think the whole world right now is in a funk, and no one seems to have much motivation. I will do my best to finish the next chapter faster, but I can't promise anything.
> 
> An enormous thank you to the very awesome Violetfic for being my beta! A huge thank to Coulrosaurus for the Discount-Dash joke!
> 
> Please note that Dr. Vess and Michael Jr. both use the F-word extremely frequently in their everyday speech. You have been warned.
> 
> If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 23**

**Patient DD**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Player once again had the stuffy sack pulled down over his head, but he didn’t complain, doing his best to concentrate on what was happening around him. He wished he understood Russian, because the men who kidnapped him seemed to talk a lot, and he probably could have gotten some useful information out of them. Viktor had a hand on his shoulder, and Player understood the silent threat. He’d made sure to be on his very best behaviour the entire flight, and true to their word, no one tried to hurt him.

Once the plane landed, Viktor scooped him into his arms, and Player felt himself carried through the plane and a moment later, he was met with the sounds of an airport. He strained his ears for any other voices, hoping to figure out which country he was in, but there was no one. It was incredibly dark, and no light made its way through the sack, and Player knew it must be nighttime wherever they were.

He was jostled a little bit and then he heard the sound of footsteps on concrete as they walked along. Player then heard someone shouting distantly, but he didn’t recognize the language. It wasn’t Russian, and from the few words said, it wasn’t enough for him to figure it out. From the warm air, and that distant voice, he felt pretty confident he wasn’t in Russia.

He heard a car door open, and he was jostled again as Viktor got into the car. Player was seated on Viktor’s lap, and so he assumed they were in a small car without any extra room for him. Everyone piled into the car and he heard the men muttering unhappily to themselves, and he assumed it was because of the cramped space.

The ignition was then turned on, and a few moments later the car was moving. 

“You are being a very good boy, Matteo!” Viktor praised, “Keep being a good boy, and things will be easy for you.”

Player grimaced, and wondered how old Viktor thought he was. “Um...Mr. Viktor?” Player asked in his sweetest voice.

“Yes, what is it?” Viktor asked, “Do you need to pee?”

“No, but I’m feeling very hot. Can I take off the hood yet?”

“Not yet, little hacker,” he replied, “It won’t be long.”

Player knew it had been a long shot, and decided to try a different strategy.

“I feel faint, can you please just roll the window down a little bit?”

“No one is around to hear you call for help,” Boris’ voice spoke up. “We’re on the highway, and are nowhere near a town,”

“I wasn’t going to yell,” Player replied, “I’m not dumb.”

Viktor let out a snort of amusement. “No, you are not dumb,” he acknowledged, “You are clever, and sometimes cleverness is far more dangerous.”

Player wasn’t sure what to make of that and so he said nothing at all. A second later he heard the sounds of the window being rolled down. Manual windows meant an older car. If this was a rental, then this likely meant they were in a country without a lot of access to newer car models. He inhaled the smells around him and detected a hint of tobacco smoke. A country which allowed smoking in car rentals. 

The open window actually felt really good as the breeze helped cool him down a bit. They drove along the highway for what felt like hours before suddenly the car turned onto a bumpy and uneven road. He could smell dust and knew they were now on a dirt road. Smelling the air as they drove along, he detected the hot smell of spices. Were they near a market or town? Sure enough, he soon heard voices and the car slowed down to barely a crawl. Where would there be a market in the middle of the night? This was incredibly unusual.

Player strained to hear the voices that seemed to surround them on all sides, but it was too much of a noisy jumble to properly hear. He felt the car make a few turns, and then it finally came to a stop.

“Okay, Matteo, just a few minutes longer,” Viktor promised.

Player was lifted out of the car, and then once again he was being carried. There was the sound of cicadas around them, but otherwise it was completely silent. He heard the men unlock a door and a few seconds later the feeling of AC hit him, and he let out a breath of relief. Viktor carried him through the building and only a few seconds later he was set down on a soft surface.

The bag was finally pulled off, and Player blinked against the sudden light. He immediately looked around and saw he was in a tiny room with no windows. There was a small bed, a toilet, a sink and a television. There was nothing else in the room at all. Viktor gently began peeling the tape from Player’s ankles, and he winced in pain as the blood-flow in his feet returned to normal.

“Ow…” Player said quietly.

Viktor looked at the swollen feet and then very gently rubbed the sore ankles to help the blood-flow. Player stared down at what he was doing, and he frowned, having a feeling Viktor wasn’t a bad person. How did someone like this get involved with V.I.L.E?

“There you go, Matteo, is that any better?” Viktor asked.

“Er...yes, thank you,” Player awkwardly replied.

“I will bring you something to eat in a bit,” Viktor informed him, “Behave yourself, and do as you are told, and I won’t have to use **those**.”

Player followed where Viktor was pointing and saw there were chains attached to the bedposts. His eyes widened. The chains were thick and looked incredibly heavy, and Player knew he’d never be able to break them.

“Don’t look so frightened,” Viktor quickly assured him, “As long as you behave, we will not use them.”

“Oh...okay,” Player said nervously.

Viktor ruffled his hair and then handed him a tv remote.

“I will be back soon, don’t try to leave this room.”

Player nodded, having absolutely no intention of obeying. He was definitely escaping the first chance he got. Viktor left the room and closed the door after him, and to Player’s dismay, he heard the distinctive sound of a lock. He remained where he was for a minute or so, and then quietly and cautiously approached the door. There was a tiny crack between the door and the woodwork, and Player could just make out the bolt that was locking him in. The bolt looked heavy, and it would be difficult to open. Laying on his belly on the floor, he peeked under the door and could see out into the hallway. It looked like they were in a house of some sort.

Heading back for the bed, he took a seat and looked around the room for any way to escape. There were no windows, and no vents, and nothing he could use to help him. Feeling like he might not get out of this situation alive, Player took a deep breath, and then picked up the tv remote. Turning on the tv, his eyes widened as he saw it was a news channel. He stared for a few seconds at the flag behind the reporter and now knew exactly where he was.

He was in India.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

“I’m not leaving him.”

“You’re leaving with us on patrol and that’s final,” Crackle replied, his tone firm.

Moose Boy shook his head. “He’s sick and he needs me.”

“Neal and Dash are perfectly capable of looking after him for the day,” Crackle replied, quickly losing his patience.

“_ Nej _,” Moose said, “I will stay here.”

Crackle removed his crackle rod from his belt and extended it, the tip sparking threateningly. “You will do as you’re told, or I will have no choice but to punish you.”

Moose Boy was unmoving, and he narrowed his eyes. “You can shock me all you want, but I’m **not** leaving Sven behind.”

Otterman who was standing beside him, rested a gentle hand on his arm. “Henrik, I’ll be fine,” he assured him.

Moose Boy looked him up and down, and then frowned skeptically. Otterman had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, was shaking uncontrollably, and he looked absolutely terrible. He was pale and sweating, and he’d been up all night vomiting from the pain. The withdrawal symptoms only seemed to be getting worse, and Henrik was worried about leaving him for so long.

“No, you’re too sick,” Henrik said with worry.

Otterman shook his head and then gave him a light push towards the door. “I’m feeling a bit better,” he lied, “I just want to sleep, and I’ll be fine here with Neal and Dash.”

[[Are you sure?]] Moose Boy demanded, switching over to Swedish.

[[Yes, Henrik, I’m sure. Go with the others patrolling, and I’ll take things easy for today.]]

“Well, okay, if you’re sure,” Moose Boy responded hesitantly, “I’ll bring you back some chocolate to cheer you up.”

Otterman had absolutely no desire to eat anything, but he nodded just to appease him. This seemed to satisfy Moose Boy, and he gave him a happy smile.

“Okay, I will go,” Moose Boy informed Crackle.

“This was never a choice to begin with,” Crackle responded, still debating on giving him a shock.

He glared at the larger man for a moment and then sighed, knowing it probably wasn’t worth it. Turning to the three men being left behind, he gave them a warning look.

“Do **not** leave the motel room for any reason,” he ordered, “All three of you are to rest, and stay here for the day. I’ll be keeping an eye on your trackers and so I wouldn’t recommend disobeying. I’ve left cash on the desk for you to order lunch. We’ll be back around suppertime.”

He received a bit of unenthusiastic acknowledgement, but no one tried to argue, and so Crackle nodded in satisfaction. Moose Boy gave a quick kiss to Otterman’s forehead, and then followed the others out of the room. Once they were alone, Otterman didn’t say a word and simply crawled onto the empty bed and curled up into a ball of misery.

“You okay, love?” Neal called over.

“Never been better,” Otterman snapped, burying himself in blankets.

“Henrik left you a puke bucket next to the bed if you need it.” 

Dash let out a noise of disgust. “I don’t see why you have to be here anyway,” he commented, “Do they really think you’re going to suddenly drop dead or something?”

“Have a heart, fancy, he’s really sick.”

“And why can’t he be sick in his own room instead of ours?”

“He shouldn’t be by himself until his withdrawal isn’t as bad,” Neal pointed out, “Don’t be mean, he needs company.”

Dash flashed Neal a glare. “Then why don’t **you** go over and stay with him? I’d be much happier here by myself.”

Neal raised a brow. “But then we’d miss out on your lovely company.”

Suddenly there was the sound of retching, and both Neal and Dash glanced over at Otterman as he threw up in the bucket. Dash’s expression was one of complete disgust and he sat up decidedly.

“I am **not** sitting here listening to that for the next several hours.”

“You’re not allowed to leave the motel, fancy,” Neal pointed out.

Dash crossed the room to where several bags were sitting next to his bed. He dug through the bags and Neal saw what looked like a few bottles of shampoo and a brush.

“Are you using store-bought shampoo?!” Neal asked in shock, “Has our little Dashie gone native?”

Dash shot him a withering look. “Of course not,” he snapped, “These are products for Steve. He has to endure store bought things for a while until I can find a better source.”

Neal glanced to Steve who was curled up next to Dash’s pillow.

“You’ve really gotten attached to that cat,” he observed.

“I hate that stupid cat,” Dash shot back, “Just because I’m taking care of him doesn’t mean I **like** him.”

“I dunno, fancy, you feed him and give him somewhere to sleep. I think he’s yours now.”

“We do the same for you, and no one even likes **you**!” Dash retorted.

Neal snickered. “You’re not as cold as you’d like everyone to believe. Maybe you’d be a little happier if you just admitted that you like us.”

Dash let out a snort as he picked up Steve. “I don’t care about any of you idiots,” he responded, “I’m only here because I was forced to be part of this team. I’d leave in a heartbeat if given the choice.”

“Whatever you say, Dashie.”

Dash stared at Neal with an odd look and seemed like he wanted to say something, but he hesitated, expression a bit uncertain. He then let out a sigh, and averted his gaze.

“Okay, look, about what you did the other-”

Otterman suddenly made a less than pleasant retch and Dash winced and then fell silent, shooting him a disgusted look. He then turned and carried Steve with him towards the bathroom without another word. Neal watched him go, and wondered what Dash had been about to say.

The bathroom door clicked shut, and to Neal’s amusement he could hear Dash speaking softly to Steve in a tone much friendlier than he used for people. Neal simply shook his head with a smile, and then reached for the remote.

“You mind if I watch rugby, Sven?”

Otterman let out a groan of misery.

“Ok, good,” Neal responded, turning the television on.

Neal’s com dinged and he picked it up and glanced at the screen. He then let out a laugh and glanced towards Otterman.

“It’s your guard moose checking in already!”

“Tell him I’m fine and watching tv,” Otterman responded, not even bothering to open his eyes.

“Will do.”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Moose Boy frowned worriedly at his com as he read Neal’s reply. Otterman was watching **rugby**?! Otterman had never willingly watched sports in the entire fourteen years they’d been together. Something had to be wrong, he had to have a fever or something. He never should have left him. 

Biting his lower lip, Moose Boy glanced over at Crackle who was explaining to Double Trouble what route they would take. Crackle had shown him where he was supposed to go, but Moose Boy was terrible at reading maps. He’d simply nodded along with everything Crackle said, not wanting to cause any trouble.

Moose Boy gave another nervous glance to his com, before reluctantly putting it back in his pocket. Neal assured him everything was fine, and he trusted Neal. Although Otterman and Neal rarely got along, he knew Neal would never put Otterman in any danger. Moose Boy had almost lost Otterman, and the fear of that weighed heavily in the pit of his stomach. Otterman was small, skinny, and practically blind. Moose Boy felt like he had to protect him at all times, and every time they were apart, he worried. If an enemy broke into the motel room, Otterman would never stand a chance. Neal and Dash were both injured, and he doubted they could defend themselves if there was a serious threat.

Moose Boy shifted nervously, and then pulled his com back out of his pocket. He texted for an update, and Neal’s reply was a bit sarcastic, but it eased his worry a bit. They were still watching tv; everything was fine.

“Moose Boy!” Crackle called over.

He looked up and saw Crackle glaring at him. 

“Did you hear a word I said?” Crackle demanded.

“Er…”

Crackle’s expression turned impatient. “I said we’re to meet back here at six. Send me hourly updates on where you are, and whether you’ve noticed anything out of the ordinary. We’re looking for signs of Team Red, A.C.M.E or increased law enforcement.”

Moose Boy nodded. “Okay.”

Moose Boy was looking completely confused, and Crackle frowned. “You remember the route you’re supposed to patrol?”

Moose Boy gave another nod.

Crackle felt a bit skeptical, and hoped trusting Moose Boy wouldn’t prove to be a mistake. “Keep a low profile and don’t commit any crimes.”

“Okay.”

Crackle stared at him long and hard, and then let out a sigh and turned away. “Okay everyone, spread out and begin patrolling.”

Moose Boy watched everyone walk off, and then chose a random direction and began walking. He wandered aimlessly for about fifteen minutes and then once again pulled out his com. Once Neal confirmed everything was still fine, Moose Boy took a seat on a nearby bench and stared at the crowds of people that walked past. He had no idea what he was supposed to do, and figured he’d just stay here for a while before moving to a new bench. He texted Neal every fifteen minutes, and after two hours, he was startled when someone stopped in front of him.

Glancing up from his com, he saw Double Trouble standing over him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on the East side?” Theodore asked.

“Uhhhh,” Moose Boy replied hesitantly, “I’m lost.”

The twins exchanged a long look between themselves, and Roosevelt rolled his eyes. Theodore mirrored him, and then turned back to Moose Boy.

“You can patrol with us if you like?”

Moose Boy felt relieved because he’d honestly been incredibly bored sitting there. Getting up, he pocketed his com, and then fell in step beside the twins.

“Thanks,” he said a bit sheepishly.

“We’re headed to the park right now,” Theodore informed him, “The park patrol takes a couple hours or so, and then from there, we’ll head down Juan Street.”

This meant nothing to Moose Boy, but he nodded all the same. As they walked along, the twins began a conversation with each other about weight training, and Moose Boy listened, not especially interested. As they approached the park, Theodore and Roosevelt began arguing about something Moose Boy didn’t care about, and he tuned them out as he pulled out his com again. After getting another update from Neal, he realized the arguing had become more heated.

Suddenly Roosevelt took a swing at Theodore, and within seconds both men were rolling on the ground in a violent fight. Fists, elbows and knees were lashing out in all directions, and Moose Boy took a step back out of danger.

Moose Boy watched with wide eyes, and wasn’t quite sure what to do. Should he intervene? It looked dangerous to intervene in this, and people were scattering at the sight of the fight. Grass was being torn up as the twins became more and more violent, and Moose Boy began worrying they were going to kill each other.

“Um…” he said as Double Trouble rolled on the grass in a flurry of fists. “Guys? I don’t think you should be doing that…”

The twins ignored him, and a few minutes later, Roosevelt had Theodore pinned with his arms behind his back. Roosevelt was breathing hard, but he grinned wide.

“See? TOLD you!” he crowed out.

He released his brother and Theodore rolled over with a scowl. “I almost had you,” he defended.

“In your dreams,” Roosevelt responded with a snort.

“I’m getting better!” Theodore shot back.

Roosevelt reached a hand down and helped his brother back to his feet. “You’ll never beat me.”

Theodore shot him a smirk. “We’ll see.”

Moose Boy scratched his head, completely confused. “Er...what?”

“I’m going to train harder than you, and I’ll beat you next time,” Theodore vowed.

Roosevelt clapped a hand on his back. “It’ll never happen, little brother!”

Theodore gave him another scowl.

“You...you weren’t really fighting?” Moose Boy asked in confusion.

The twins both seemed surprised.

“What? No. We do that all the time. We’re almost evenly matched and so it’s good training to fight each other,” Roosevelt explained.

Theodore dusted himself off and then looked Moose Boy up and down. “How much can you lift, Henrik?”

“How much what?” 

“How much weight can you lift?” 

Moose Boy gave a shrug. “Dunno, never tried.”

The twins seemed shocked at this. 

“Never?!” Roosevelt cried out in horror.

Moose Boy shook his head. “Sometimes I carry Sven, but I don’t lift weights or anything like that.”

The twins once again looked him up and down, noting his large muscles and couldn’t believe it.

“Fight me!” Roosevelt cried out excitedly. “I want to see how strong you are!”

Moose Boy blinked, and then frowned. “I don’t know…” he said hesitantly.

“Come on!” Theodore encouraged, “It’s good practice.”

“I’ve only ever had to fight on missions…”

“Your partner is weak, and so you should train extra hard to protect him,” Roosevelt pointed out, “I doubt Gwen can even lift just the barbell by itself.”

Moose Boy thought about Otterman attempting to weight-lift and honestly couldn’t picture it. That would be a disaster waiting to happen that would probably end with Moose Boy having to rescue him. Moose Boy was responsible for protecting him, and it was a job he took extremely seriously. Maybe he **should** start training with the twins?

Roosevelt gave a stretch and then held up his fists, falling into a boxer’s stance. “You in?” he asked. “After this we can show you the gym we’ve been going to!”

Moose boy nodded, and then raised his own fists. “Teach me.”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

“Hey, fancypants, I’m ordering food! What do you want?” Neal bellowed towards the bathroom.

Dash had been in there for over three hours, and if it wasn't for the fact he could hear him talking to Steve, Neal might have been concerned. Neal waited a few seconds, and when there wasn’t a reply, he bellowed even louder.

“OY! DASH! FOOD! YES OR NO?”

The bathroom door opened and Dash exited, carrying Steve with him. “I heard you the first time!” Dash snapped, setting the cat down on his bed.

Neal glanced at Steve and saw the cat looked like a completely different cat. Dash had clearly given it a bath, and then trimmed the mangled hair short. Steve was purring up a storm and was rubbing against Dash’s arm, clearly enjoying the attention.

“I don’t want anything,” Dash responded, taking a seat on the bed.

“Crackle’s going to be pissed at you,” Neal pointed out, “He wants you to put on weight.”

“I’ve put on six pounds since joining this damn team,” Dash snapped, “**SIX** pounds. I am **not** putting on any more weight than that. You guys eat nothing but garbage.”

Neal rolled his eyes. “I’ll order you a salad then. What kind of protein do you want in it?”

Dash sighed, and took a seat on his bed. “Chicken.”

Neal glanced over at Otterman who had fallen asleep about an hour before. He’d been absolutely miserable, and Neal was hesitant to disturb him. Deciding against waking him, he reached for his com.

“I’ll get Sven some soup or something. What do you want to drink?”

“Perrier.”

Neal rolled his eyes, but didn’t comment. Neal spent a few minutes putting in an order through an app, and then went back to watching sports. The door then opened and an absolutely filthy Moose Boy wandered in.

“What are **you** doing back so soon?” Dash demanded, “Did something happen?”

Moose Boy’s gaze immediately went to Otterman, and without a word, he headed over to him. He gently laid a dirty hand on his forehead, and then relaxed when there was no signs of fever. He pulled the blankets up over Otterman’s shoulders, and then removed his glasses, setting them on the nightstand.

“I told you he was fine,” Neal stated, “He fell asleep about an hour ago.”

“Good,” Moose Boy said quietly, “Sven didn’t sleep much last night.”

“So what are you doing here?” Dash demanded, “Does Crackle know you’re here?”

“I’m just checking in, and then finishing my patrol,” Moose Boy responded, “Has Sven eaten anything?”

“No, but I just ordered us lunch,” Neal replied, “I got Sven some sort of chicken noodle soup, and a bottle of water.”

Moose Boy nodded approvingly. “Good, he needs to eat. I have to go now, but keep me updated.”

Neal let out a resigned sigh. “Will do.”

Moose Boy ran a hand through Otterman’s hair affectionately, and then turned to leave. He waved goodbye to Neal and Dash, and then left without another word. Neal exchanged a look with Dash who simply rolled his eyes. 

“Why are these idiots part of our team again?”

Neal honestly wasn’t sure. Moose Boy and Otterman were the worst operatives V.I.L.E had ever seen and so it seemed like a **really** bad idea to make them part of this team. 

“Unlike them, at least **you’re** sometimes useful,” Dash commented.

“That almost sounded like a compliment.”

Dash scoffed, and took a seat on his bed. He reached for his sketchbook and ipod, clearly planning on ignoring him. Neal was bored and a bit lonely, and he wanted someone to talk to.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” he asked hopefully.

“No,” Dash replied, putting on his headphones.

Neal watched him for a few minutes, but Dash was pointedly not looking in his direction, and so he reluctantly went back to watching sports. After half an hour, he glanced back at Dash who was still sketching quietly.

“Hey, Dash?”

There was no answer.

“Dash?” Neal called a bit louder.

Dash had his eyes trained on his sketchpad, a thoughtful expression on his face. He was chewing on the end of his pencil, and seemed lost in thought. Neal frowned and then opened the bag of candy he’d been snacking on. He tossed a skittle at Dash and struck him in the shoulder, startling him. Dash looked around in confusion and then he glanced down at the skittle. He then narrowed his eyes and glared over at Neal. Without a word, he lobbed the skittle at Neal’s head.

“Ow, shit!” Neal protested, rubbing his forehead where the skittle struck.

Dash then went back sketching. Neal stared at him a moment and then threw another skittle at him. This time Dash only glared at him briefly before going back to ignoring him. Knowing a challenge when he saw one, Neal began tossing skittle after skittle at Dash as the other man struggled to ignore him. Soon, Dash’s entire bed was covered in a rainbow of candy, and his expression was getting angrier and angrier. Finally Dash slammed his sketchbook down, grabbed an entire handful of candy and whipped them as hard as he could at Neal. 

“WHAT?” Dash snarled, “What do you want?!”

“What are you drawing?”

Dash threw another handful of skittles at him. “You’ve been throwing candy at me for the last ten minutes just for THAT?!”

“Well, no, I just want someone to talk to.”

“No one wants to talk to you, Neal. You’re disgusting and weird, and people only interact with you because they have to.”

Neal let out a snort. “You’re always so charming, Princess.”

Dash narrowed his eyes, and yanked off his headphones. They stared at one another in silence for a few moments, and then Neal tossed another skittle at him. It bounced off the tip of Dash’s nose, and he turned red in fury.

“THROW ANYTHING AT ME AGAIN AND I’LL BREAK YOUR **OTHER** LEG!”

Otterman jerked awake, and stared over in Dash’s direction, clearly confused.

“Now look what you did, fancy,” Neal said, tsking teasingly. “You woke Dash 2.0.”

Dash’s eyes widened. “**Excuse** me?!”

Neal scratched at his chin as he glanced between the two men. “Well, Sven is grouchy like you are, but he’s not as fancy. I guess he could be Off-brand Dash.”

Both Otterman and Dash glared over at him angrily.

Neal then got a thoughtful look on his face. “Or maybe Dollarstore-Dash.”

“Why am I all of a sudden being shat on?” Otterman demanded, reaching for his glasses. “I haven’t even done anything! I’m **nothing** like Dash Haber!”

Dash turned fierce eyes on him. “What’s **that** supposed to mean?! Are you saying there’s something wrong with me?”

Otterman blinked. “Yeah, lots.”

“Hmm, maybe Budget-Dash,” Neal commented to himself.

Dash flushed angrily. “Oh, that’s rich coming from the operative who fails at everything he does. You couldn’t even take your medication correctly!”

It was now Otterman’s turn to flush. “Well, at least I have friends! No one even **likes** you! You could just disappear and no one would even care.”

Dash’s eyes widened and he looked genuinely stunned. Dash glanced over a Neal, and then back at Otterman, not saying a word. Otterman immediately felt bad over saying that and he tried to back-track.

“I’m sorry, that was really mean...”

Dash’s eyes narrowed to angry slits, and he whipped a handful of skittles at Otterman’s head. Otterman couldn’t see them coming, and they hit him directly in the face. Yelping in pain, he covered his face as a second handful was thrown his way.

“Like I’m going to allow someone like **you** to judge me!” Dash snarled.

“I got it!” Neal crowed out triumphantly.

Both men paused their fight to glance over at him.

“Discount-Dash!” Neal announced proudly with a laugh.

Dash and Otterman both responded by pelting him with the candies as hard as they could.

“Ow, ow, shit! Okay, sorry!” Neal cried out, unable to stop laughing. “I surrender!”

Dash let out a snort, and just for a brief moment, Neal saw a look of amusement cross his face. Neal grinned at him, and Dash tossed another skittle at him.

“I’m not cleaning these up,” Dash informed him.

“Neither am I,” Otterman said, still looking rather grouchy. “Have fun with that, Neal.”

Neal glanced around and saw there were skittles scattered throughout the entire room. It was going to be a pain to find them all.

There was a sudden knock at the door, and everyone looked up in surprise.

“Oh, it’s probably our food,” Neal commented, sitting up.

Neal got to his feet and then hobbled his way across the room to answer the door. There was a delivery girl standing there holding a bag of food and a large case of beer.

“Order for Mr. Eel?”

“That would be me, love,” Neal responded with a grin.

“$47.89 please!”

Neal handed her two fifties and her eyes widened. 

“Thanks, love!” he said, taking the beer and food, and then closing the door.

“Thank you!” the girl shouted through the door.

Dash’s eyes fell on the beer and he gave him a disgusted look. “You ordered beer over a food app?”

“America’s great, eh?” Neal responded, ripping into the box.

He cracked open a beer, took a swig, and then reached into the bag of food. “Here’s your rabbit food, Dash,” he stated, holding out the salad.

Dash snatched it from him, wrinkling his nose at the smell of the beer. “You do know Crackle forbade us to drink except for pre-approved days off, right?”

“Yep.”

Neal then pulled a styrofoam bowl out of the bag and he limped his way across the room and held it out to Otterman.

“We ordered you some soup,” he said, “It should be easy on your stomach.”

Otterman was still mad at him over the Discount-Dash comment and he glared up at him, expression thunderous. “I don’t want it,” he snapped, “Why don’t you go drown yourself in it?”

Neal snickered. “You must be feeling a bit better, because now you’re sounding like your old self again,” he commented.

Otterman wasn’t feeling as nauseous as before, but he was still in a lot of pain, and was still freezing cold. He scowled irritably, and then rolled away from Neal so he was facing the wall.

“Just let me sleep.”

“Your wish is my command,” Neal responded, rolling his eyes.

He set the soup aside and then limped his way back to his bed. Taking a seat, he let out a breath of relief to get off his leg, and then reached into the bag for his own lunch. Pulling out a container of nachos slathered in cheese sauce and sour cream, Dash shot him a look of disgust. He didn’t comment however, instead poking at his salad half-heartedly.

Neal cracked open a second beer and then started on his nachos, the smell of cheese and grease filling the room.

“Whatever you’re eating smells fucking disgusting, Neal.” Otterman grumbled.

“Nachos and beer,” Neal answered, “It’s a Mr. Eel favourite.”

“I can’t believe you gave your name as Eel to the restaurant,” Dash commented.

Neal simply flashed him a grin, and downed his second beer.

“Crackle is going to be mad at you,” Dash pointed out.

Neal simply shrugged and reached for a third can.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Crackle glanced down at his watch and frowned when he saw his entire team was late. Furrowing his brow, he leaned against a nearby phone booth, hoping nothing was amiss. None of his teammates had reported anything unusual when they checked in, so there should have been no excuse to be late. After a few minutes, Paper Star appeared at his elbow, and he glanced at her but didn’t comment. Ten minutes later Double Trouble and Moose Boy could be seen lumbering down the sidewalk towards them. The three men were all smiles and joking as they walked along, and Crackle narrowed his eyes.

“You’re late,” Crackle snapped the second they neared.

Theodore glanced at his watch. “Oh, only by a little bit,” he commented, “We just stopped at the corner store on the way back.”

“When I say six o’clock, I mean six and not six-ten or whenever the bloody hell you feel like it!”

“Sorry, Graham,” Theodore apologized, holding a bag of doritos towards him. “Chip?”

Crackle lips thinned in disapproval and he was about to respond when suddenly there was a voice right behind him.

“Graham?”

Crackle turned around and saw a civilian standing just behind him. She was middle-aged, portly, and she had her brown hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. He frowned at the woman, having no idea what she wanted.

“I don’t have any change,” he said dismissively, turning back around to his crew.

“GRAHAM!”

Crackle turned back around, only to be pulled into a bone crushing hug. He wheezed in surprise, and then immediately struggled to get away from her. She held on, tightening her grip.

“Graham!” she cried out desperately. “It’s really you!”

“What…?” Crackle sputtered in confusion.

“Where have you been?! That phone call the other day terrified us! We’ve been looking for you since yesterday!” She had a thick Australian accent, and her voice was eerily familiar to him.

Crackle finally broke away from the woman and he backed up several steps, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. 

“What are you talking about?” he demanded, “Get away from me!”

He turned to walk away but the woman caught him by the elbow.

“Graham!” the woman said in a loud scolding tone that made Crackle stop dead in his tracks.

He slowly turned back around to stare at her, a strange feeling of familiarity at her voice. The woman reached up and placed a gentle hand on Crackle’s cheek, staring into his eyes searchingly. Brown met brown, and Crackle felt the same frequent pain begin within his mind. Everything about her seemed glaringly familiar, but he couldn’t remember no matter how hard he tried.

“Graham, where have you been?” she asked, her tone softening. “Whatever you’ve done, we can deal with it, but you need to talk to me. What have you been taking? Heroin? Meth?”

Crackle stared at her, feeling confused and suspicious. “Look lady, I don’t know who you are but whatever this scam is, it isn’t going to work!”

She didn’t allow him to pull away, and there was shock in her eyes as she stared at him. “You don’t recognize me?” she asked.

“I have no idea who you are, now get away from me!”

“Erm, Graham?” Theodore said hesitantly. 

Anyone looking could see the resemblance between Crackle and the woman, but Theodore was hesitant to say anything.

The woman’s eyes fell on the four people Crackle was with, and her expression became alarmed. 

“What are you doing with Graham?!” she demanded, attempting to step between Crackle and the others. “Are you his dealers?!”

Crackle shoved the woman aside and she stumbled, but managed to catch herself. She turned back towards him and once again yanked him into a tight hug.

“Sweetheart, stop this!” she begged, “Come home, please just come home! I don’t care what you’ve done. We’ll deal with it as a family. Please Graham, please just come home.”

Family… The pain was getting worse and Crackle felt frustrated and confused.

“I don’t know who you are!” he yelled, “Get your fucking hands off of me!”

The woman audibly gasped, and then she narrowed her eyes.

“Graham Elliot Benjamin Dawson! How **dare** you use that language in front of your mother!”

Once again the tone shut him right up, and he stared at her with wide eyes. 

“Mother?!” he repeated, “You’re my mother?”

The anger disappeared from the woman’s face, and her expression became pained. “Oh, sweetheart…”

Tears welled in her eyes, and this made him extremely uncomfortable. He struggled to get away from her, but this time her grip was like iron.

“We need to get you to a hospital,” she said gently, “Come on, we’re going home where we can get you some help.”

“Let go of me **now** !” Crackle ordered, “I’m not going **anywhere** with you! Get away from me and leave us alone!”

“Just listen to me for a few minutes!” she begged, “Let’s sit down and have a coffee at one of these shops, and we can talk. Please just give me a few minutes!”

Crackle could feel the fog in his mind becoming agitated, and he was worried he was going to take another seizure. He had to get away.

“Let me go, or you’ll be forced to leave by my teammates,” Crackle ordered, “We don’t want to hurt you, but we will if you leave us with no choice.”

“Oh, Graham, you don’t know what you’re saying!” she insisted, “You’re a sweet and kind person, and you’d never hurt anyone!”

“Last warning,” Crackle said firmly, “Step back or you will be removed.”

“Graham…” there was such anguish in her voice that Crackle grit his teeth against the pain in his mind.

The fog was clawing at the inside of his mind, and he could feel memories trying to fight their way through. He shook his head and then turned his head to look at Roosevelt.

“Yank her off,” he ordered.

Roosevelt hesitated. “But...Crackle, that’s your mom…”

“Don’t make me repeat myself, Roose,” Crackle snapped.

Roosevelt bit his lower lip, and then hesitantly shuffled over to them. 

“Don’t you dare touch me, you big brute!” she snarled, “You stay away from my boy!”

Roosevelt grimaced. “Sorry, ma’am,” he said, reaching down and gently pulling her away from Crackle by the back of her shirt.

She turned and smacked Roosevelt’s hand away from her, and then went to take a step towards her son.

“Stop,” Crackle ordered harshly, “I don’t know you, and even if I** did** I wouldn’t go with you. I have a new life now, and I don’t need you. Stay away from me, and don’t ever talk to me again.”

She stared at him, and now the tears broke free and ran down her cheeks as she stared at Crackle with a heartbroken expression. Crackle quickly turned away, not wanting to look at her face any more.

“Your son is dead,” Crackle called back to her, “Go home and don’t return here again.”

He began walking away, and he heard quick footsteps behind him. 

“Graham!”

Suddenly he saw Paper Star pull her arm back and take aim.

It was like the world was suddenly in slow motion and in that moment, Crackle remembered his mother. He remembered her gentle smile, her warm hugs, and the sweet understanding she had always shown him. He also remembered his family, and the terrible way he had left them all behind.

Without even having to think about it, Crackle spun around and stepped in the star’s path. He let out a sharp cry as the blades cut deeply into his arm, and then he spun to face Paper Star in fury.

“What in bloody hell do you think you’re doing?!” he snarled, taking a step towards her.

“She was attacking you from behind,” Paper Star responded, cocking her head in mild confusion. “I was defending you…”

“SHE’S MY MOTHER!” Crackle roared in outrage, “SHE WASN’T GOING TO HURT ME!”

Paper Star frowned at him skeptically. “How do you know? She could’ve stabbed you in the back.”

Crackle ripped the star out of his arm, and then clapped a hand over the wound, gritting his teeth against the pain.

“Why would you think my own mother would try to kill me?” he demanded a little more calmly than before.

Paper Star still seemed a bit confused and she shrugged. “No one can’t be trusted, especially parents.”

Crackle furrowed his brow, having a feeling there was a very traumatizing story attached to that statement, but he brushed it aside, too angry to think about it right now.

“Oh, Graham!”

Crackle’s mother reached for his injured arm, but he pulled away. He stared at her, and it **hurt** to look at her. Heavy guilt weighed on him for everything he’d put his family through, but this was the way it had to be. Closing his eyes as he struggled to get his emotions under control, he clenched his hands into fists.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, “I’m really sorry, mum,”

“Don’t do this, Graham,” she begged, “Don’t do this to us again. Don’t cut us out!”

Crackle shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry,” he said again, “I have a new life here, and I won’t be returning to Australia. Forget you ever had a son, because after today you won’t be hearing from me again.”

“Why?” she demanded, “Why are you doing this?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me!” she shot back, “Just **talk** to me, Graham! Make me understand! Who are these people? Why did that girl try to kill me? What have you gotten yourself involved in?”

Graham stared down at the ground for a few moments and then stepped towards her. To everyone’s surprise, he threw his arms around her in a tight hug. He planted a kiss on her cheek, and then pulled away.

“Goodbye, mum,” he said gently, turning to walk away.

“Graham!”

Crackle kept walking. “Come on,” he ordered his team.

“Graham!”

Crackle squared his shoulders and kept walking.

“Please, Graham!” 

Crackle felt like his heart was ripping in two, but he forced himself to keep walking. The whole team walked in complete silence the entire way back to the motel. Crackle felt absolutely awful, and he completely forgot about his bleeding arm. His chest was aching, and his head was in agony, but he ignored it, trying not to think about the heartbroken look on his mother’s face. His stomach was twisting painfully, and he wished he could just forget this whole day.

When he unlocked the motel room door, he was met with the sight of Dash watching tv, and both Neal and Otterman sleeping.

Moose Boy pushed past him to check on his partner, and Crackle stared at Neal, finding it unusual for him to be napping this late in the day.

“Neal sneakily ordered a 24-pack with lunch and then drank until he passed out,” Dash immediately tattled.

“Neal ordered beer?!” Crackle asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Huh, I didn’t know they did that,” Roosevelt commented.

“Beer delivery whenever we want…” Theodore said, his gaze going thoughtful.

“Where’s the beer?” Crackle demanded glancing around the room with a frown.

He saw a lot of empty cans, but no sign of any left.

Dash looked completely smug as he pointed towards the mini-fridge. “He took out all the water to fit it in.”

Crackle crossed the room and opened the fridge. Sure enough there were over a dozen beers left.

“I told him it was against the rules you gave us, but he was an idiot and ignored me,” Dash stated.

Crackle reached out and picked up one of the beers. Without a word he cracked it open and downed it in one shot. Dash abruptly stopped talking and simply stared at him in disbelief as he cracked a second can. He downed it just as fast as the first one. Not saying a word to anyone, he grabbed as many beers as he could hold and then carried them over to his bed. 

“Erm…” Dash said a bit hesitantly, “Graham? Everything okay?”

Crackle flinched at his name and then cracked a third beer. Taking a seat beside Neal, he simply sat there drinking in complete silence. The twins stared for a long moment and then reached into the fridge and pulled out a few cans for themselves.

“Am I missing something?” Dash demanded.

The twins glanced over at Crackle, and then hesitated uncertainly.

“Crackle needs those beers,” Roosevelt replied, “Just let him be.”

Dash could see a somewhat haunted look in Crackle’s eyes, and was smart enough to leave it alone. He had no doubt he’d find out what was wrong later, but right now it was clear, Crackle needed to calm his nerves.

“Sven, I brought you back a chocolate bar!” Moose Boy said, gently shaking Otterman’s shoulder.

“Hrnnn,” Otterman complained, “Leave me alone.”

“Come on, you’ve napped long enough,” Moose Boy told him, “Time to get up.”

Otterman swatted at him irritably, but Moose Boy wasn’t bothered. “Crackle, is it alright if we go back to our own room now?”

Crackle nodded mutely, taking another sip of beer.

Moose Boy scooped Otterman into his arms, who immediately began shivering the second the blankets were removed.

“Come on, Sven,” Moose Boy said as he headed towards the door. “Maybe a bath will make you feel better?”

Otterman muttered something in Swedish that sounded suspiciously like a curse word, and Moose Boy just rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be so grumpy,” he scolded as he left the room, “I want to tell you about how I’m going to start training!”

Once they were gone, the twins reclaimed their bed and cracked open their own beers. Dash looked around at his teammates, and began absentmindedly petting Steve as he thought. Something was seriously wrong, and he hoped it wasn’t anything to do with Team Red.

Crackle sat stiffly facing the door, simply drinking beer after beer. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast and it didn’t take long for the alcohol to start taking effect. He kept drinking robotically and he didn’t stop until he finally passed out. 

Once they were sure he was unconscious, the twins approached him and then gently stripped Crackle out of his stealth suit so they could inspect his wound. They washed and disinfected the wound and then carefully stitched it up. Crackle didn’t so much as stir, and once they were done, they wrapped his arm in bandages, and then tucked both Crackle and Neal in bed.

Paper Star watched everything carefully, not really certain what to think of this. Crackle’s reaction to seeing his mother was unusual, and she didn’t really understand. He’d made it clear he wanted nothing to do with his past life, but he also didn’t hesitate to throw himself in harm’s way for his mother. Paper Star would have never done that for her father, and even the thought of such a thing was bizarre to her.

Brushing her hair out of her eyes, she continued staring at Crackle, trying to figure this out. The raw pain she’d seen in his eyes was unexpected, and Paper Star felt a bit odd about it. She couldn’t quite place her finger on what she was feeling, but she didn’t like it.

Letting out a soft sigh, she got up from her bed and then headed to the bathroom to take a shower. Perhaps it was best she just put all of this out of her mind.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Julia stared at the computer screen with a frown.

“Aren’t you done yet?” Chase demanded impatiently.

Julia glanced up at him disapprovingly, and then turned her attention back to what she was doing. She stared at the wall of encrypted text, and studied it thoughtfully. She typed for a few moments, but nothing happened. She frowned, adjusted her glasses and then tried again. Chase hovered over her shoulder, and she did her best to ignore him as she concentrated. She failed time and time again, and Chase was getting agitated as he watched.

“I thought you understood this stuff!” Chase accused.

Julia let out a sigh. “I took a basic information technology course in university, but I’m not a programmer! This is far beyond my scope, but I’m doing the best I can.”

Chase made a disapproving sound in the back of his throat, but didn’t comment. As Julia continued working, he began pacing inside the plane, feeling like he should be doing something. Chase knew absolutely nothing about computers, and so he was forced to stand by while Julia took care of it.

After hooking up the hard drives to her laptop, Julia discovered that Player had encrypted everything. The more Julia poked at the defenses, the more layers of encryption she discovered. Player was truly a genius when it came to computers, and it was hard to believe he was only thirteen.

They had let Team Red know they had the hard drives on the way back to the airport, and Julia promised to do her best to unlock the drives by the time they made it back to Kazakhstan. She hadn’t counted on the fact Player had multiple encryptions and she was struggling to even break through one.

Julia had always been good at figuring out mysteries, and she was honestly enjoying the challenge. Chase however, was not. He was angry and impatient and kept distracting her every few minutes with his complaints and suggestions. She’d snapped at him a couple times, but he was on edge, and she knew he couldn’t help it.

Julia had been taught to work hard and try her best right from the time she was a young child. She was born in rural France to Chinese immigrant parents, and had lived on a farm until the day she left for university. For most of her life she had to work long hours on the farm, all while trying to maintain her ‘A’ average in school. Her parents couldn’t afford to pay for her education, and so she worked incredibly hard to get as many scholarships as she could.

The day she was accepted into the top university in France, her parents had never been so proud. They wanted her to be a doctor, and she never told them that she instead focused on law enforcement. She had a deep sense of justice, and working for Interpol had always been her dream. When her parents found out she never enrolled into medical school, they had been furious, and insisted she had thrown away her life. They had cut off contact with her for three months, before finally her father called her to apologize. 

Julia had always been pretty close with her parents, and so the apology came with relief. After having a very long conversation about Interpol and her education, they accepted her decision, only wanting her to be happy.

Julia graduated top of her class, and then became an intern at Interpol After working there for two years, she was finally promoted to be a field agent. This was when she was assigned to be Chase’s new partner.

Julia frowned sadly at that memory, and let out a sigh. The internship was supposed to be four years, and she had assumed her hard work had gotten her promoted sooner, but the truth was actually horrifying.

She knew Chase’s wife had been killed while on a case, but she didn’t know any details about this. All she knew was that Chase Devineaux was one of Interpol’s top field agents and she was lucky to be his partner. She’d been very happy and optimistic about their partnership, but that was quickly shattered when she was introduced to him. Chase was unusually cold, and downright rude to her, and she was miserable for the first month of their partnership. It was like he did everything in his power to demean her and make her miserable, and she began to wonder if she was cut out for Interpol. She began to hate him, and resent having to go to work with him every day.

Everything changed the moment she saw a photo of Yu Yan. Chase left the photo on the dashboard of his car, and when she picked it up, she felt her breath catch in her throat. Chase’s wife looked so similar to her, they could have passed for sisters. A cold sense of dread then made its way up her spine, and Julia instantly understood. She had been the only French Chinese intern in Poitiers...

Their superiors were always booking a single room for them to share, they made little comments about how they looked good together, and they even went so far as to book meal reservations for them. Julia had dismissed all of this at the time, not putting too much thought into it, but now that she saw the photo, it couldn’t be denied. Interpol was trying to set her up with her partner. They were trying to replace Chase’s dead wife.

Interpol wanted their top agent back, and they didn’t care if they hurt him to do it. Julia felt awful for Chase, and completely understood why he’d treated her so poorly. None of this was his fault, and it wasn’t fair.

When Julia gave Chase his photo back, he’d blown up at her angrily, but she simply listened calmly, knowing the pain this caused for him. The way he looked at her showed how raw his grief was, and Julia wanted to help. She told him she figured out what Interpol was doing and assured him she had nothing to do with it.

He had been angry and defensive, but she persisted, and eventually they just got to talking. He told her about Yu Yan, about his daughter, and about the pressure Interpol had been putting on him to return to full work duties. They told him to just put his heart into his work, and when he responded that his heart died with his wife and daughter, they hadn’t been too happy with him. He acknowledged that he’d been treating her terribly, but he’d been so angry at everybody, that he hadn’t cared.

Julia told him she would resign from Interpol first thing in the morning, but to her surprise, Chase told her to stay. He promised he would be better towards her, and now that he knew she wasn’t involved in the ploy, he didn’t hate her. Julia remained his partner, and over the last two years of working together, they became good friends.

The sound of shattering glass made Julia look up, and she sighed when she saw Chase had dropped a wine glass on the floor. They were friends, but she still found him exasperating at times.

“Chase, it’s three in the afternoon,” she pointed out.

“I’m just calming my nerves,” Chase assured her, as he knelt down to pick up the glass.

Julia looked at the half-empty wine bottle and raised a brow.

“Right,” she replied skeptically.

Julia continued working on the encryption and when she finally got through it, she let out a quiet ‘aha!’ of accomplishment. Chase was by her side in an instant, his breath stinking of the cheap wine.

“Did you do it?” he demanded.

Julia nodded proudly. Her smile quickly disappeared however, when a pop-up appeared on her screen demanding a password. She frowned for a moment and then investigated it. It looked like there was no way to get past it. Player must have set this up as one final protection for the drives.

“A password?” Chase guessed, “Do you know what it is?”

Julia mutely shook her head. 

“Can you get past?”

“No, and from what I can tell, the password is 8 characters long, and we only get one try. If we’re wrong, the drives will delete themselves. The protection surrounding this password is stronger than everything I’ve ever seen before. Breaking through this is way beyond my capabilities.”

Chase stared at the screen thoughtfully. “Player is just a child. His password is probably just the word ‘password’.”

“I doubt that very much,” Julia responded.

“Do you have any better ideas?”

Julia thought for a moment. “It could be ‘sandiego’, or perhaps ‘Poitiers’ or maybe ‘killvile’. It could be anything.”

Chase sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “Then we can do nothing?”

“If we could get a machine to codebreak the hard drives, we’d be able to gain access that way.”

Chase nodded. “Then we’ll get one.”

“The only problem with **that** idea, is that this type of technology is military grade. Without Player to guide us, we could never break into any sort of military compound to steal it.”

“Why does a machine have to do it?” Chase demanded, “Could we not just find a tech nerd to code break?”

Julia shook her head. “A normal human would take years to decipher all of this. The code changes every thirty minutes, and someone would need to be able to solve equations as fast as they can read them. This would require a mathematical genius to force their way through, and I don’t know about you, but I can’t think of any off the top of my head.”

“Then all of this was for nothing,” Chase said with a deep sigh.

“Perhaps not,” Julia said reassuringly, “We’ll bring the drives to Carmen. She’s been friends with Player for years, she might know him well enough to guess the password.”

“But if she’s wrong…”

Julia grimaced. “Let’s hope she’s not.”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Siren remained curled into the fetal position for over two hours. Someone had brought him a tray of breakfast which he’d ignored, and when his mind finally stopped spinning, he sat up and felt disgusted with himself. How could he have allowed this to happen? When he’d erased his memories, he’d done so with the assumption V.I.L.E would kill him, but instead they’d kept him prisoner in the lab like some sort of pet. He’d lost ten years of his life, and he didn’t even know what to think about this. Any mental growth and development he would have had during those years had been stagnated, and he felt robbed. They’d stolen a decade from him.

His mind turned to his brothers, and he realized he didn’t even know if they were still alive. Ten years was a long time, and he had no idea where they were or what they were doing. He thought of his enormous and dim older brothers, knowing they would have been lost without him. They’d never made a decision for themselves in their entire life, and Siren worried for them. Theodore and Roosevelt would be 32 by now, and there was no saying what V.I.L.E did to them.

Siren clenched his hands into fists, a gut-wrenching sense of loss hitting him like a slap in the face. V.I.L.E had ruined his life, had ruined his brothers lives, and they had made a murderer of him. Taking a deep breath, he knew he had to begin his plans. It would take time, and he would have to be extremely careful. Vess wasn’t an idiot like the original scientists, and he was perceptive enough to notice if he suddenly started acting differently. 

Siren considered how he’d acted around Vess and knew he’d been moody enough to get away with a lot of questionable behaviour. As long as he made sure to act exactly like he had been for the last decade, Vess shouldn’t pick up on it.

Siren stared at the scattered paperwork and then kicked at it irritably. He had no desire to do any of it, and glanced towards the door. Was the gorilla still out there? He hadn’t heard a single sound come from the hallway, and so he slowly got up and approached the door. Opening it a crack, he was immediately met with the scowling face of Braxton sitting directly in front of the door.

“This isn’t at all creepy,” Siren commented dryly.

“You were permitted a sick day and so you have to remain in your room and rest.” Braxton stated.

“I just want to grab a Pepsi from the cafeteria,” Siren lied.

“Are you going to make me repeat myself?” Braxton demanded, his hand hovering over his baton like he was itching to use it.

Siren heaved a sigh. “Well can **you** go get me a Pepsi then?”

Braxton narrowed his eyes. “No, I cannot,” he replied, his tone sharp. “I will not leave my post for **any** reason.”

“Where’s Kevin?”

“I don’t know who that is,” Braxton replied with a frown.

“The Kevin who has been my guard for the past six months,” Sire replied.

“I’m your guard now,” Braxton said firmly.

“Yes, but where’s Kevin?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” Braxton snapped.

Siren rolled his eyes, realizing he wasn’t going to be getting any information out of him. “Look, gorilla, I’m thirsty and I'm going to the cafeteria. I’m **not** a prisoner here, and I’m **not** going to be treated like one. Let me by.”

Siren went to step around Braxton and before he’d so much as taken a step into the hallway, Braxton seized him by the front of the shirt and lifted the baton over his head. Siren immediately covered his head with his arms and let out a strangled cry of fear.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he cried out, all signs of bravado long gone. “I’ll stay in my room!”

Braxton stared down at him through narrowed eyes for an uncomfortably long time, and then reluctantly lowered the baton.

“This is the only warning you get,” he stated, releasing Siren’s shirt. “Try that again and I won’t hesitate to beat you.”

Siren still had his arms over his head, and he nodded silently.

“Back in your room where you’re supposed to be.”

Without a single word, Siren took a step back into the safety of his room and closed the door. Siren then released a breath of relief. Okay, that confirmed his theory about Braxton. He would not be able to escape the guard any time soon. This would make things extremely difficult if he was being watched 24/7. He would need to find a way to lose the guard and then hopefully get him fired somehow. 

Siren crossed the room to his desk and opened the drawer to assess what he had. Setting his ipod on the desk, he began searching his room for any and all electronics. When he was finished, all he had to show for his efforts were a digital watch, his ipod, a few charge cords, a broken alarm clock, and a 90’s Tamagotchi. He could dismantle the ipod, but the rest wasn’t of much use to him. He needed to focus on finding a way to communicate with the outside world and to do that he needed the parts to build with. Scratching at his chin as he thought about it, he knew he had to find electronics that wouldn’t be missed. 

Siren took a seat on his desk and his eyes fell on a little red toy car. Cocking his head curiously, he reached for it, remembering the car from several days ago. He grimaced as he realized V.I.L.E had a child held captive somewhere in the compound. He thought of the dozens of children from the original experiments, and knew horrible things were probably being done in an attempt to replicate what was going on.

Siren honestly had no idea how close Vess was to figuring out the experiments and knew by looking at the child, he’d be able to figure it out. He spun the wheel of the car in his hand, and for just a moment he felt a moment of confused fog cloud his mind before it cleared again. Shaking his head, he had a feeling his mind had been damaged from Vess’ constant experimenting on him, and he was horrified to think about what that would mean for his future.

He stared at the little car, and then closed his hand over it. He needed to get out of this room so he could start planning. Remembering his time with Terry in the lower basement, Siren’s gaze went to the small air vent in his room. Approaching, he peered inside it, and saw it was almost identical to the vents in the basement. Using his fingernails to pry it, he popped the vent cover off and then shot a hesitant look towards the door. If Braxton discovered he left the room, he’d likely be struck again, but Siren didn’t see what choice he had. 

Still spinning the wheel of the car as he thought, Siren could feel the fog beginning to press in on his mind. He shook his head, but the fog just kept creeping, making him feel confused as it filled his mind.

Siren closed his eyes for a moment, and the fog suddenly hit him like a freight train. He blinked and was quite startled when he saw he was no longer in his room. He glanced around and saw he was laying in a bed that was not his own, in an unfamiliar room. 

“What the hell?!” he exclaimed, sitting up fast.

A little girl glanced up from where she was playing on the floor, and she cocked her head at him thoughtfully. Siren stared at the girl, and she stared back, clearly unconcerned with a strange man being in her room.

Siren glanced around the room, and saw it was a tiny room which only had a bed and toilet in it. The walls were soundproofed, and everything was white. He was in one of the patient’s rooms.

“Are you done your nap now?” the girl asked him in a soft whisper, her dark eyes piercing into him.

“How...how did I get here?” Siren asked in confusion.

The girl swept her long dark hair out of her face and gave him a shrug. “You returned my car,” she replied, holding it up for him to see.

Siren stared at the little red car, and then raised a hand to rub at his head. He had no memory of any of this and had no idea how long he’d been there. The fog seemed to have receded for now, and Siren grimaced as he realized the fog must have made him temporarily confused. Was it brain damage from Vess’ experiments on him, or was it a reaction to the medication? If he kept losing control of himself like this, this would be incredibly dangerous for his plans.

“What’s your name?” the girl asked him, her voice barely louder than a breath.

Siren pushed aside the blankets and got to his feet, wondering if anyone noticed he was gone yet. He glanced up at the security camera and saw it had been rewired. Standing below it, he stared at the wires and realized this would cause a video-loop so no one could see what they were saying or doing in the room.

“Did I do this?” he asked in surprise.

The girl nodded silently.

“Did I say anything?”

She shook her head, her sharp eyes feeling like they were staring into his very soul. Her eyes did not suit such a small child, and Siren averted his gaze away from her, suddenly uncomfortable. What had happened to this girl to make her turn out like this?

“What’s your name?” she repeated, setting her car aside.

“I’m Siren,” he replied, still staring at the camera.

“My name is Patient DD,” she informed him, offering a shy smile.

“Don’t care,” Siren replied, glancing around the tiny room.

“You’re not like the other doctors,” she observed, “You’re different.”

“I’m not a doctor,” Siren answered, turning to glance at the door.

How did he even get in here? Was he authorized to open these doors? Weren’t the doors set to some sort of alarm?

“Creepy little girl?” Siren called over to her, “How did I get in here?”

If she was bothered by being called creepy, she didn’t show it, and she simply pointed to the air vent in the corner of the room. Siren stared in disbelief, realizing he must have crawled through the entire compound to make it there.

“A stranger crawled out of your air vent and you didn’t scream?” Siren asked in surprise.

The girl gave him a shrug. “You’re not scary,” she whispered, “You’re tiny, like me.”

Siren scowled at that. Sometimes he really hated being only 5’2. “Yeah, well at least I’m still taller than you.” he defended.

“For now,” she acknowledged.

“Damn brat,” Siren muttered, debating on what he should do. “How long have I been here?”

The girl stared at him for a long moment and then gave a shrug. “You came before lunch, and you woke up just after they took my tray away.”

Siren frowned, realizing he had slept for about an hour. Someone was bound to notice he was gone soon if he didn’t get back to his room. Suddenly his sleeve was grabbed and Siren nearly jumped a mile, not hearing the girl approach.

“Play cars with me?” she asked, holding out a small truck towards him.

Without even thinking about it, Siren slapped her hand away from his coat, the girl letting out a surprised gasp of pain. Realizing what he’d just done, Siren frowned.

“Sorry,” he apologized, “I’m not used to being touched.”

The girl rubbed at her hand, but to his surprise, she didn’t cry. Instead she gave him a slow nod. “Do the doctors hurt you too?” she asked him. “Is that why you don’t like being touched?”

Siren stared at her with wide eyes, and then scowled. “Mind your own business, brat.” he snapped, turning towards the air vent.

He opened the vent and as he began to crawl inside, the girl called after him desperately. “Will you come back, Siren? Will you come talk to me again?”

“No.” Siren snapped, crawling into the vent without another word.

“Bye, Siren,” she said, her voice sounding rather sad and disappointed.

Siren ignored her, having a feeling he was going to be in **very** big trouble when he got back to his room. He crawled as fast and as silently as he could through the vents, unable to believe he did this the first time without getting caught. His mind obviously hadn’t been thinking rationally, because returning a toy car was hardly at the top of his list of priorities right now. Hoping he hadn’t messed everything up for himself, he headed for his bedroom.

When he finally made it there, he peered into the room, and when the coast was clear, he slipped out of the vent, landing awkwardly on the floor as he fell. He noticed his breakfast tray was gone and knew he was discovered missing. Letting out a curse, he approached the door and opened it a crack. Sure enough, Braxton was gone, obviously searching for him.

Siren closed the door again, and knew he had to come up with a plan, otherwise he was likely to get bashed over the head with a baton. Kneeling down, he gathered up all the paperwork into a messy pile, and wondered if he could pretend he was just working this whole time. Doubting Braxton was quite that stupid, he decided to flee for the lab in the hopes Vess wouldn’t allow him to be beaten in there.

Opening the door, he once again peered out, and when the coast was clear, he slipped out of his room and then hurried in the direction of the lab. He saw no signs of Braxton, and when he burst into the lab, Vess and Michael glanced up at him in surprise. Michael immediately narrowed his eyes at him, but Vess simply seemed perplexed.

“I thought you were taking a sick day?” he questioned.

Siren slapped the pile of paperwork down on his desk and then took a seat. “I feel better now,” he replied, searching for a pen. “Thought I would get a bit of work done.”

“Where’s your guard?”

Siren gave a shrug. “No idea. He said something about grabbing a quick beer with friends an hour ago and never returned.”

Michael looked up sharply. “There’s a bar here?!”

“No, Michael, there’s not,” Vess replied. “The nearest bar is in the village 10 Kilometers away.”

Michael slumped in disappointment. “Take me after work?”

“No, I’m too busy right now. I’m going to be working late tonight.” Vess replied distractedly, as he typed on his laptop. “Why don’t you go find something to do and stop distracting me?”

Michael’s expression turned foul. “There’s nothing to do in this shithole.”

“Not my problem, Michael. Perhaps if you hadn’t been such a dumbass, you’d still be in Kazakhstan right now.”

Michael flushed and went quiet. Siren frowned when he couldn’t find anything to write with and suddenly remembered he’d thrown his pen across the room.

“Numa, toss me a pen?” he asked, glancing up.

Without looking up from what he was doing, Vess reached over, removed a pen from his desk and then threw it in the general direction of Siren. Siren picked it up off the floor where it landed by his feet, and then turned his attention to his paperwork.

Siren began the paperwork, using this time to think about possible things he could do to take down V.I.L.E. The translations were easy and he went through page after page without really reading what he was translating. He knew none of it was of any importance, and so he instead concentrated on devising a plan of action. The first thing he needed to do was map out the compound but this would be difficult to do if he was constantly being followed by the gorilla.

Siren had never really explored the entire compound and so right now his mental map was incomplete. All he needed to do was walk through the building once and he’d be able to remember everything later.

His first order of business had to be getting rid of the gorilla. Obviously Vess didn’t care the man was abusive, and so Siren knew he had to make the guard look bad. If he could in some way make it clear the gorilla was not suited to the job, Vess would get rid of him immediately. Vess did not put up with incompetence, and so Siren would need to focus on that. Perhaps he could make him seem like a drunk? Siren had already sewn the seeds for that, and it would probably be easy enough to fake. Would that be enough to get rid of him though?

Vess was tuning out Michael’s complaining as he focused on his work, but he couldn’t help but feel like something was wrong. He couldn’t quite place his finger on what it was, but something was definitely not right. He ignored it for an hour or so, but he couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling, and so he finally looked up.

“And then I hit her right in the face!” Michael exclaimed, finishing whatever story he’d just been telling. “Bitch was knocked out cold!”

“Fascinating,” Vess deadpanned, glancing around the room, trying to figure out what was wrong.

“Nuuuuma!” Michael complained, “It’s **so** boring here! Do you have a PS4?”

Vess hated that whiny tone of voice and shot the boy a glare. Michael was leaning against his desk, and he simply smiled when he saw Vess’ attention was finally on him. Vess sighed, and then rolled his eyes.

“No, I don’t have a PS4,” he replied, “It’s a waste of time.”

“No, it’s not!” Michael defended, “It’s fun, and you should yank the stick out of your ass and try it sometime!”

Vess frowned with another sigh. “If you want one so badly, order one for yourself online. We get daily deliveries from Moscow, and so just use our Moscow address and it will be forwarded to you.”

Michael immediately perked up. “Really?!”

“I’ll give you the address later, if you go away and let me get back to work.”

Michael nodded in agreement. “Deal!”

Instead of leaving, Michael just went quiet instead, and it was this silence that made Vess realize what was wrong. There shouldn’t have been silence. It was eerily quiet, and he glanced over at Siren who was working quietly. Siren was **never** quiet, and Vess simply stared at him in disbelief. There was no humming, no singing, and no whistling. The lab was dead silent, and now that Vess noticed it, it was unnerving.

“Are you feeling alright, Siren?” he called over.

“I’m fine,” Siren replied without looking up from his paperwork.

Vess frowned. Something was definitely not right here.

“Are you done work now?” Michael demanded, trying to bring Vess’ attention back to him.

“No, I told you I’m going to be working late.”

“Well, you could take an afternoon off…” Michael suggested.

Vess didn’t even bother answering, his attention going back to Siren. He stared long and hard at the other man, who stayed completely silent. Something was wrong with Siren, and he began to worry it was a reaction to one of the new medications. Standing up from his desk, he approached Siren who didn’t even glance up at him. Siren didn’t even seem to notice him, clearly too focused on his work. Vess stood over him for five minutes or so, simply waiting to be noticed, but Siren never once glanced up. Finally Vess reached out and placed a hand against Siren’s forehead, checking for signs of fever.

Siren jerked back in surprise and looked up at him with wide eyes, and Vess immediately noticed the dilated pupils.

“You’re high,” he stated, narrowing his eyes angrily.

He grabbed Siren’s chin and leaned in to take a closer look, and Siren grimaced at the way he was being manhandled. Vess was getting angrier by the second, and he gave a sniff to Siren, immediately recognizing the smell of marijuana.

“You smoked **weed**, you moron?” he snarled, unable to believe it.

“Michael gave it to me!” Siren responded, pointing at Michael who gaped at him like a fish.

Vess spun on his heel to glare fiercely at Michael, who shook his head.

“He’s lying!” he protested. “I never shared shit with that little asshole!”

“Michael, do you really think Siren needs drugs fucking up his brain any more than it already is?” Vess snarled.

“I didn’t do it!” Michael roared out angrily. “Look, I still have my weed!”

He reached his hand into his pocket and then a look of confusion crossed his face. He checked his other pocket and then checked the first pocket again just in case.

“WHERE’S MY WEED?!” he bellowed out. 

Michael then turned to stare at Siren with a look of realization on his face. “YOU STOLE MY WEED!”

“I don’t have your weed,” Siren replied.

Michae surged across the lab, and he grabbed a hold of Siren and yanked him out of his seat before anyone could react.

“Give it back!” he snarled.

Siren kicked and struggled against him. “I don’t have it!” he yelled back.

“You’re a liar!” Michael accused, his hands reaching for Siren’s throat.

Vess looked like he was done dealing with either of them, and without a single word, he slapped Michael hard across the face who dropped Siren in surprise. Vess then turned and gave Siren an equally hard slap.

“Enough.” he stated, his tone sounding dangerous.

“But Numa-”

Michael was silenced when Vess turned a withering glare on him.

“Give me the baggy of weed, Siren,” Vess ordered, holding out his hand. “We have no idea what reactions that could have on you, and it’s too dangerous to take.”

“I don’t have it,” Siren replied, still clutching at his face in pain.

Vess narrowed his eyes, and Siren immediately took a step back not wanting to get slapped again.

“Do I need to search you?” Vess demanded.

“I don’t have it!” Siren insisted, taking another step back.

“Liar!” Michael accused, “You better give me my weed before I throat-punch you!”

Siren crossed his arms and scowled. “What is this, the Spanish Inquisition? I said I don’t have it!”

“This has nothing to do with Spanish cushions!” Michael snarled back, “Stop trying to confuse me!”

Siren stared for a moment, and then he sent a smirk towards Vess who looked suitably embarrassed. Vess heaved a sigh, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and then turned a glare towards his boyfriend.

“Michael, leave this to me,” Vess ordered, “Go stand over there before you embarrass yourself further.”

Siren let out a snort of amusement, and Vess turned the glare on him. Just then the lab doors opened and Braxton entered, looking furious.

“Dr. Vess, Siren is mis-” he cut off at the sight of Siren, and then scowled angrily.

“Good afternoon, Gorilla,” Siren greeted, “All done drinking now?”

Braxton didn’t say a word, but it was clear he was debating on what to do. His hand hovered over the baton attached to his belt, and Siren had a feeling he was going to be getting a smack the second the other man got his hands on him.

“You’re supposed to keep Siren in your sights at all times,” Vess scolded, “This isn't a very good start to your career with V.I.L.E.” 

Braxton straightened his spine, and gave Vess a stiff nod. “My apologies, Dr. Vess, I’ll do better.”

Vess simply rolled his eyes, and then turned his attention back to Siren.

“If you won’t willingly turn over the drugs, I’ll have no choice but to have you searched,” he warned.

“I never took **anything**,” Siren insisted.

Vess sighed angrily. “Fine, have it your way. Braxton, search Siren for a bag of marijuana.”

“Wait, what?” Siren demanded as Braxton crossed the room towards them. “I don’t want that Gorilla touching me!”

Siren didn’t have time to further protest before Braxton grabbed a hold of him and began patting Siren down and searching pockets. Siren kicked and squirmed, but Braxton simply shoved him against the desk to hold him down as he continued his search. Siren swore, and yelled to no avail, and to his surprise, Braxton came up empty handed. He distinctly remembered placing the weed into his lab coat pocket, but he must have moved it during his confused state earlier.

“Nothing,” Braxton announced.

Vess frowned at Siren, knowing he couldn’t allow him to keep anything that could potentially harm him.

“Where did you put it?”

“I don’t have it,” Siren insisted for the fifth time, “I flushed it down the toilet.”

Michael let out a strangled gasp. “You did **what**?!”

Siren gave a shrug. “I didn’t like it so I flushed it.”

Michael began turning red with fury, but Vess held out a hand to stop him from approaching Siren.

“Braxton, search Siren’s room to see if he’s lying.”

Siren took a deep and angry breath, not liking the idea of anyone digging through his personal belongings. Knowing there was nothing he could do about it, he simply shot Vess a look of death.

“Report back to me with your findings.”

Braxton gave a nod, and without a word, he seized Siren by the back of the shirt and then forced him to walk ahead of him.

“Let go of me!” Siren ordered, struggling against him uselessly. “Get your gorilla mitts off!”

To everyone’s surprise, Braxton said nothing, and simply pushed Siren along like he wasn’t bothered by the tantrum. To Siren’s annoyance, Michael quickly followed after them.

“I’m getting my weed back, you little thief!” he announced.

Siren was dragged the whole way back to his quarters where Braxton finally released him. Braxton then tore his room apart, upending every drawer onto the floor, flipping his mattress, and even dumping the entire contents of his closet onto the floor of his room. Once again Braxton came up empty-handed, and Siren was actually a bit surprised over this. What did he do with everything? Did he leave it in the room with the little girl?

Michael was absolutely furious when Braxton found nothing, and he began searching himself, tossing things carelessly as he did so.

“Michael, get the **hell** out of my room!” Siren ordered, fed up with the loss of privacy. “Everyone get out for that matter! There’s nothing here!”

Michael threw a book to the floor hard and then turned around fast, lashing out with a fist as he did so. Siren was caught by surprise and the hit landed solidly in his stomach, and there was an explosion of pain as his stitches ripped. Letting out a howl of pain as he doubled over, Michael had him pinned to the floor in an instant and began hitting him over and over in absolute fury. 

Suddenly Michael let out a strangled cry of pain, and Siren looked up to see Braxton standing over them brandishing the baton. He brought it down over and over again on Michael, who quickly released Siren in an attempt to escape. Braxton struck Michael repeatedly as the boy scrambled out the door, only stopping once Michael fled down the hall.

“You fucking psycho!” Michael screamed from where he was safely out of reach. “I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill you!”

Siren let out a breath of relief as the assault came to an end, but his relief was short-lived when Braxton slowly turned a stony glare at him. Without a single word, Braxton lifted the baton over his head. Before the baton could make contact, Siren scrambled underneath his bed, huddling as small as he could get away from the other man.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he cried out, hoping to appease him.

Braxton slammed the baton on the floor and Siren shrank further under the bed. 

“Leave this room again and I will beat you until you finally begin to learn!” he threatened. “You will **not** make me look bad!”

“I won’t leave, I promise!” Siren insisted.

“Last chance, and then you’re getting a few new bruises!”

“I’ll stay here!” Siren swore, hoping this would be enough to satisfy the other man.

Braxton said a few not so polite things under his breath and then left the room, slamming the door closed after him. Siren remained where he was for several minutes and then cautiously crawled out. That was a close one. He **definitely** had to get rid of Braxton.

Siren glanced at his destroyed room and had no desire whatsoever of cleaning it up. Deciding to just leave it for the maid to take care of, he turned his attention to the vent. He had no memory of stashing Michael’s weed and was a bit worried he’d left it with the little girl. What if she tried to eat it or something? Was that something small children did? They were like puppies weren’t they? Siren had never interacted with small children in his life, and he honestly wasn’t sure.

Grimacing in worry, he glanced towards the door and then back at the vent. Could someone die from a weed overdose? He racked his mind for everything he knew about it, but his knowledge on the subject was sorely lacking. Would the little girl die if he just left it there? Biting his lower lip indecisively, he let out a curse, and crossed the room for the vent.

Hoping he could make it back before Braxton returned, Siren crawled into the vent and then began hurriedly crawling through the compound in the direction of the girl’s room. When he made it to her room, she was exactly in the same spot, playing with her cars. She glanced up when he pushed open the vent, and she then offered him a hesitant smile.

“Hi, Siren!” she whispered.

“Did I leave anything here?” he demanded, looking around the almost bare room.

The girl cocked her head, her eyes calculating before she responded. “You don’t remember?”

Siren scowled. “If I remembered, I wouldn’t have asked!” he snapped.

She raised a brow at him. “You’re being sassy.” she commented. “I get in trouble if I’m sassy.”

“Just answer the damn question!” Siren ordered impatiently, pulling himself out of the vent.

“Apologize for being rude first,” she ordered.

“What?” Siren asked in surprise.

“Friends aren’t mean to each other,” she explained. “Apologize.”

“I’m not friends with you!” Siren responded in outrage. “Why would I want to be friends with a baby?!”

“I’m not a baby, I’m four,” she replied haughtily. “I’m going to give you the silent treatment until you apologize.”

“What?” Siren repeated, completely confused.

She stared at him long and hard, and then went back to playing without a single word.

Siren gaped at her for a few seconds and then he approached her. “Just answer the question!” he ordered, “That...medicine I had is dangerous, and you can’t touch it. Did I leave anything here?” 

The girl shrugged and didn’t look up from what she was doing. Siren knelt down beside her, but she still continued to ignore him.

“Little girl?”

No response.

“Deedee?”

She didn’t so much as spare him a glance.

“Answer me or I’ll break one of your toys!” he threatened.

She finally looked up at him, but it was with a scolding look. She still said nothing, and Siren felt himself quickly losing his temper. Reaching out, he snatched one of the cars out of her hand, and before really thinking about it, he whipped it at the wall as hard as he could. 

The girl let out a cry of despair and she scrambled for the car, tears already welling in her eyes. Siren’s anger was gone in an instant, and he realized what he’d just done. Suddenly he felt like a complete monster, and as the girl clutched the broken car to her chest, he shifted uncomfortably. When she turned tear-filled eyes towards him, Siren averted his gaze away from her.

“You broke it!” she accused.

“I’m...I didn’t mean to...I’m sorry,” Siren said awkwardly, “I lost my temper.”

The girl frowned at him severely and then held out the broken toy towards him. “Fix it!” she ordered.

Siren took the car from her and looked at the damage, quickly seeing the plastic had been shattered. There was no way to fix it.

“...I can’t,” he admitted.

The girl looked crushed for a moment and then a righteous anger entered her eyes. “You owe me a toy!”

“...okay.”

She narrowed her dark eyes at him, clearly not believing him. “I’m not telling you where you hid your things until you bring me a new toy.”

Siren narrowed his eyes. “I’m not being blackmailed by a four year old.”

The girl crossed her arms, clearly having no intention of telling him anything. Siren rolled his eyes.

“I’ll find it myself,” he responded in annoyance. “It’s not like there are very many places to hide something in this room.”

The girl calmly watched him as he searched the room, and to Siren’s immense fury, he found nothing.

“Where is it?” he demanded.

“Where’s my new toy?” the girl shot back.

Siren scowled at her. “This is why I hate people.” he stated. “Everybody is horrible.”

“I’m not the one who broke a toy,” the girl pointed out.

Siren let out an aggravated groan. “Fine. I’ll bring you a fucking toy.”

Siren muttered angrily to himself and then headed back for the vent. “I might be a while,” he snapped. “Don’t touch any of the stuff I left here.”

“I won’t,” the girl promised. 

“Little brat,” he snapped, crawling into the vent.

“Bigger brat,” she responded.

Siren didn’t dignify that with a response and simply crawled away, having no idea where he was going to find a new toy car. She was the only child that he knew of at the compound, and it wasn’t like there was a nearby toy store he could go to. Sighing in frustration, he was tempted just to let her keep the marijuana. 

When Siren got back to his room, he pulled himself out of the vent, only to realize too late someone was waiting for him. Braxton stood up from where he was seated on the bed and before Siren even had time to say a word, he was seized by the front of the shirt and thrown hard towards the bed. Siren hit the mattress awkwardly, and as he tried to scramble away, Braxton grabbed a hold of him and pinned him down, removing the baton from his belt. Braxton began bringing the baton down hard on Siren’s back, who immediately started screaming and begging for him to stop. Braxton was clearly furious with him and he kept bringing the baton down over and over hard.

By the time he had calmed down enough to stop, Siren was a sobbing mess, his entire back a mass of bruises. Siren didn’t move even when Braxton released him, and simply laid there in agony.

“That vent is being bolted shut,” Braxton promised him. “Leave your room again and I’ll double the amount of hits. You **will** learn to obey whether I have beat you every single day until you do.”

Braxton then left the room without waiting for any form of acknowledgement. Siren laid there for a long time, and when he finally sat up, his fists were clenched in absolute fury. He was going to destroy that guard if it was the last thing he did. Braxton was going down.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**The next several chapters are mostly going to focus on Team Crackle, so hopefully everyone is fine with that!**

**I'm going to do my best to get out in two weeks by the May 6th at the absolute latest. I've been working on a lot of side-fics at the same time as this one, and so that's why updates are a little slower than normal. Please forgive the delay! **

**A huge thank you to the super-talented artists who did artwork for this chapter!**

**MelodyMeddly is responsible for the pic of Paper Star throwing the star!**

**Violetfic is responsible for the pics of Patient DD, the pic of Siren and and the pic of Paper Star with drunk Crackle!**

**Coulrosaurus is responsible for the pic of Dash and the pic os Steve!**

**Credit for the names of Otterman and Moose Boy go to Animedemon01**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**

**Please don't forget to let me know what you think! **


	24. Goodbye Team Crackle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone!
> 
> The fic is finally over 300k words long!! Woot! Woot! To celebrate, here is a crazy long 25k word chapter! The next 3 chapters are going to be pretty dark, and so just be prepared for that! ^_^
> 
> An enormous thank you to the very awesome Violetfic and Coulrosaurus for offering plenty of good suggestions, and for being my betas! 
> 
> Please note that Dr. Vess and Michael Jr. both use the F-word extremely frequently in their everyday speech. You have been warned.
> 
> If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 24**

**Goodbye Team Crackle**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**August 1st**

Player was becoming more and more on edge as the days slowly dragged by. He missed his friends and family, and he was feeling lonely and angry. He knew his captors could have been worse, since the men always made sure he had enough food and water, but he still hated them. Viktor sometimes sat with him to talk a while, but for the most part he was left alone. Now Player knew how horrible it had been for Neal, and Player had a new level of respect for the villain. Neal had no television and zero human interaction, and the thought of that was horrifying to him.

Player wasn’t quite sure how long he had been in that room, but figured it had been a few weeks. Every day Player tried to plan an escape, but he was closely watched and there was no opportunity to get out of the room. Player spent most of his time spying underneath the door and so far he had heard the name Volkov used hundreds of times, and he had a feeling these men were incredibly desperate to find Mime Bomb. Player overheard a phone conversation between Boris and Team Red, and when they told the Russian that Mime Bomb was too injured to be moved, it had **not** been pretty. Boris had smashed the phone to the floor and screamed in Russian until the others managed to calm him down. Viktor then called Team Red back on a different phone and told them they would wait thirty days, and then contact them again.

When Player realized he was going to be there at least thirty days, he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. His parents would probably think he was dead by then. He knew Carmen would never trade one team member for another, and so he put his trust in the fact that Carmen must have a plan. He just had to be patient, and wait for his chance to escape. He may not have gone through crime school, but he was still a part of the team, and he refused to be a damsel in distress.

Player fiddled with the piece of metal in his hand, trying to bend it into the shape he wanted. He had no idea how to pick a lock, but he knew it was probably his best bet for escaping. He had pulled a bit of metal from the back of the old box television in the room, and now the screen flickered a bit, but it still worked. He’d been working on the piece of metal for two days now, and he almost had it bent small enough to fit inside the keyhole.

He suddenly heard the door opening and he hurriedly shoved the piece of metal inside his sock out of sight. Facing the tv to pretend he was engrossed in the cartoons, he looked up as Viktor entered the room. Viktor offered him a smile which Player did not return.

“Cheer up, Matteo,” Viktor said, trying unsuccessfully to soften his gruff voice, “Only a few more days and you’ll be going home.”

Player gave him a long and calculating look. “Why do you want Yuri Volkov?” he asked.

This had been the first time Player asked about this and Viktor hesitated. “It is very complicated…”

“I’m smart, try me,” Player challenged.

Viktor approached and took a seat on the bed beside him. “Little Yuri has been missing for a very long time,” he explained, “We’ve been tasked with bringing him home.”

“Home? Where is home?” Player asked suspiciously.

“Sorry, that is something I can’t say,” Viktor replied.

Player knew Viktor was the nicest out of his kidnappers and hoped he might be able to appeal to his sense of compassion.

“Mime Bomb-er I mean Yuri has been through a lot. He was put through unbelievable torture and psychological pain as a child, and even now he still hasn’t recovered. He’s been getting better with therapy and support, but he’s still a long way from being perfect. Why do you have to do this to him? He’s a really sweet person, and he doesn’t deserve this! Why can’t you people just leave him alone? He was finally happy, but then you ruined it!”

A strange and fierce emotion crossed Viktor’s face and he clenched his hands into fists before he replied. “You do not understand, Matteo. We are doing what is best for Yuri. He must be brought home.”

“Of course I don’t understand!” Player snapped, “You haven’t explained anything!”

Viktor shook his head with a sigh. “I will explain to Yuri, but to no one else,” he said firmly, “This is private business that is between us and no one else.”

“You’re going to put him back in that horrid place aren’t you?” Player said, looking away.

Viktor reached out and gently took Player’s chin in his hand and turned his face so they were making eye contact.

“Never,” he vowed, “Yuri is **never** being returned to that lab. I give you my word that I will not harm him.”

Player frowned. “None of this is making any sense. You shot at him, tried to run him off the road, kidnapped me, and you expect me to believe that?”

“I am many things, little Matteo, but a liar is not one.”

“Why don’t you just speak with Yuri over the phone?” Player demanded, “Explain to him what you need to so he can make his own decision. Stop hurting him like this!”

Viktor looked even more regretful, and he shook his head. “I have to speak with him face to face after a DNA test confirms his identity. My employer is taking **no** chances.”

“Is...is Volkov still operational?” Player asked hesitantly.

Viktor stood up abruptly. “If I were you, Matteo, I would stop asking such questions in case you find out something you shouldn’t.”

“I’m just trying to understand!” Player cried out in frustration.

Viktor shook his head and then turned towards the door. “I’m sorry, but please don’t ask about this again.”

Without another word, Viktor left the room and closed the door after him. Player was about to let out an angry yell, but then his eyes widened. Viktor hadn’t locked the door…

Player scrambled up off the bed and threw himself down onto the floor and peeked under the door. There was no one in sight. Cautiously he reached out a hand and slowly and quietly turned the knob. The door opened and Player held his breath, worried he’d make some noise to give himself away. Peering out into the hallway, he saw it was empty, but he could hear distant voices in the other end of the house. Player glanced around and his eyes fell on the window at the end of the hall. 

Tiptoeing out of the room, he headed for the window, knowing he’d likely never get a chance like this again. Unlocking the window, he peeked over his shoulder, saw the coast was still clear and slid the window open. There was a screen over the window and it wouldn’t budge even when he pushed on it. Giving another glance over his shoulder, he slipped the piece of metal out of his sock and then sliced a large hole through the screen. 

Slipping the piece of metal back into his sock for future use, he crawled out the window onto the slanted roof. The heat of the sun hit him full force the second he was outside and the roof was hot under his sneakers. Balancing as carefully as he could, he made his way down the slant of the roof, hoping no one would see him. Making sure the yard below was empty, he hung down by his fingertips and then let go, falling the remaining five feet and landing awkwardly on the grass below. The hot roof had burned his fingers and he winced and blew on them as he got back to his feet.

Player stared at the ten foot wall that surrounded the property, and realized these guys really didn’t want any surprise visitors. Looking all around for a way to get over the wall, he eyed the nearby gate, but knew that was too risky. Spotting a dip in the grass near the wall, he headed for it and saw a small storm drain. Biting his lip at the thought of getting stuck, he removed his hoodie and then stared into the narrow hole, trying to figure out if he would fit.

“Okay, time to channel my inner Neal,” he whispered quietly to himself.

Carefully sticking his legs through the narrow gap, he very slowly began lowering himself into the hole. The metal scraped painfully against his hips, but he managed to get halfway down. For once in his life, glad he was so small and scrawny, he released all the air in his lungs and then began twisting and bending his way into the drain. When he finally made it, his belly and hips were all scraped up, but he had made it. Glancing down the concrete storm drain, he began crawling as fast as he could away from the house. 

He had escaped.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

It had been three weeks and there was still no sign of Team Red. Crackle checked the tracker several times a day, but it always showed the exact same spot in Kazakhstan. It never moved, and so he had a feeling the tracker had either been dropped, or it had been buried with Carmen Sandiego. As the days turned into weeks, Crackle was starting to come to the conclusion that Carmen probably **was** dead. There had been no interference in missions, and it was like her entire team just just dropped off the face of the Earth. They patrolled San Diego twice a day, and none of them had seen any sign of Team Red.

Crackle honestly wasn’t sure how he felt about Carmen’s death. On one hand he was glad their enemy had been eliminated, but on the other hand a small part of him was saddened. Fuzzy memories of a short-haired Carmen kept coming to his mind, and in these memories he’d been happy and content. It felt like his mind was being torn in two, and Crackle’s migraines seemed to only get worse as the days went on.

Everyone on the team was getting bored and irritable, and Crackle was beginning to have a few problems with them. Neal and Dash were constantly bickering, Double Trouble and Moose Boy were always taking off and disappearing for hours at a time, Paper Star sometimes disappeared for a day or two with no explanation, and that left Crackle constantly in the company of Otterman. 

Otterman had almost all but recovered from his addiction, and he’d started joining him on the patrols, wanting to be useful. Otterman tried his best to help Crackle, but his eyesight was too bad for him to be of much use. The one time Crackle sent him to patrol on his own, he got lost and ended up in a really sketchy neighbourhood. Crackle and Moose Boy had to go rescue him.

Crackle knew he should have been cracking down on all of the disrespect and bad behaviour, but he was honestly feeling like there wasn’t much point. They had nothing to do without Team Red, and he couldn’t really blame them for going stir-crazy. The fighting got on his nerves more than anything and he'd finally lost his temper with Neal and Dash, and threatened to use the crackle rod if they didn’t knock it off.

He ordered them to talk out their differences while the rest of the team were gone on patrol, and if they weren’t getting along better by the time he got back, he informed them they would be severely punished. When he came back later that day, he returned to a completely destroyed motel room. He had **not** been impressed.

Crackle’s expression was thunderous as he glared over at Neal and Dash. He stood, arms crossed, as he watched them clean the motel room, and was severely tempted to give them a few more shocks from the Crackle Rod. Dash was scowling as he picked up the slivers of glass out of the carpet, and was clearly not very happy with this situation. Neal didn’t seem overly bothered and was repairing the holes in the walls without complaint.

“This is ridiculous!” Dash whined, “Why do I have to do this when the motel has cleaning staff?”

“Don’t start,” Crackle warned, his tone bordering on dangerous.

Dash slammed a handful of glass into the nearby garbage bag, and flashed him a dirty look. “Why do you even care?” he demanded, “This is just a stupid motel room. We could just move to a new motel, and the problem would be solved.”

Crackle narrowed his eyes. “You two destroyed our room and nearly burned down the motel!” he snapped, “The fighting has gotten out of hand!”

“It wasn’t **that** bad,” Dash grumbled.

“You smashed nearly everything in the room, burned the carpet, got blood on absolutely every surface, you put holes in the wall, and the telly is in hundreds of pieces. Don’t even **try** defending your behaviour.”

“Neal started it,” Dash muttered, tossing a bit more glass into the bag.

“I don’t want to hear it!” Crackle snapped angrily.

“You threw the first punch, fancy,” Neal commented from the other side of the room.

“Only because you threw a can of beer at me!” Dash snarled viciously.

“That was an accident, and I apologized for that,” Neal pointed out, “It slipped out of my hand.”

Dash glared at him and tossed a piece of the broken television into the garbage bag. “This whole team is a ridiculous mess! How did I even get stuck with you guys?”

Crackle removed the Crackle Rod from his belt, and Dash quickly crossed the room and busied himself with stripping the beds of the ripped and bloody sheets.

“I don’t even know how you two managed to make this much of a mess!” Crackle commented, “You’d better get everything spotless before the others return!”

“Where’d everyone go?” Neal asked, putting the finishing touches on the wall. 

Neal had done a good job repairing the wall, and it looked as good as new.

“I gave them permission for free time until nine,” Crackle replied, “They’ll be back in an hour, and you’d better have everything spotless by the time they get back!”

Neal limped his way across the room and began helping Dash pick up the glass and debris from the floor. Crackle didn’t lift a finger to help them in any way, simply watching their progress furiously. The only positive thing that came out of this, was that Neal and Dash **finally** seemed to be getting along a little better. They hadn’t said one snarky thing to each other the whole time they’d been cleaning, and Dash seemed to be going out of his way to avoid Neal. If they ignored each other, Crackle could live with that.

“Hey, fancy, I think we’re going to need a vacuum. Can you go see if the front office will lend us one?”

Without a single word, Dash turned and left the room, presumably to locate a vacuum cleaner. Crackle watched him go, and then crossed his arms, glowering at Neal silently. Neal simply pretended not to notice, and hefted up the bag of debris, and crossed the room to continue cleaning over there.

When Dash returned, he plugged in the vacuum and began sucking up the tiny shards of glass out of the carpet without complaint. Neal was finished with the large debris, and he tied up the bag and then headed for the door to toss it in the dumpster. Crackle watched Dash work, still feeling annoyed, but he was at least starting to calm down a little. The room was starting to return to its former shape, but they still needed a television and sheets.

“I’ll be back in two minutes,” Crackle yelled over the vacuum, “Don’t go anywhere.”

Dash gave him a dirty look but didn’t answer. Crackle left the motel, glanced over to where Neal was tossing the garbage bag into the dumpster, and then he waved for him to follow. Walking two doors down, Crackle picked the lock on the door, and entered the unoccupied room. Neal approached and then stood in the doorway, watching as Crackle yanked the sheets off the bed.

“Grab the tv,” he ordered.

Neal nodded, and unplugged the television. Just as he was lifting it up, Crackle grabbed the two lamps, and then carried everything back to their room. Neal followed after him and then they went about making the room look completely untouched. There was nothing they could do about the burn-spot on the carpet, but overall, the room now looked intact. 

Finally finished cleaning, Neal collapsed backwards onto his bed with a groan. “Well, that was fun,” he commented, “Let’s not do it again.”

“Agreed,” Dash said, his tone a little bit bitter.

“Are you two finally going to stop fighting?” Crackle demanded, narrowing his eyes.

Neal and Dash exchanged a silent look between them, and Dash averted his eyes to the floor.

“Yeah, I think we’re good now, love, we just needed to get that out of our system. I promise I won’t hit Dashie unless he hits me first.”

Crackle then turned his attention to Dash. “Dash?” he questioned.

“I’ll learn to ignore his idiocy,” he promised, “This is a mistake that **won’t** be repeated.”

Crackle felt relieved, and he clapped Dash on the shoulder. “Good, we all need to start acting like a team. It’s one for all, and all for one when it comes to teams, and I want to know we can all depend on each other if we need it.”

“Sure, wombat, I wouldn’t leave any of you behind,” Neal assured him, “You guys are my pals!”

Dash rolled his eyes, and didn’t answer. He simply crossed the room and opened the bathroom door to let Steve out. Steve sped by him, still puffed and upset from earlier, and hopped up on Dash’s bed looking ready to fight.

“Aw, Steve,” Dash said softly, sitting down next to him, “Neal, look how much you scared him! He’s still all stressed out!”

Neal rolled his eyes and simply watched Dash fuss over the cat. He honestly found it hilarious that out of all people to get attached to the mangy street-cat, it was Dash Haber. The cat’s fur had been rapidly growing back, and the new fur was soft and clean since Dash almost obsessively brushed it. Steve still hated everyone except for Dash, and no one else could even go near the cat without getting hissed at. Theodore was determined to win the cat over and kept trying again and again to make friends, and he got scratched every single time. Dash was unsympathetic to his plight and simply said to leave Steve alone.

“Anybody care if I watch rugby?” Neal asked, turning the tv on.

“My show is on in ten minutes,” Dash informed him, narrowing his eyes at the other man. “Channel 102.”

To Crackle’s surprise, Neal simply switched the channel to the fashion network without a word and then leaned back to watch whatever boring fashion show Dash was interested in. Dash seemed a bit surprised as well, but he didn’t say anything.

Crackle got undressed for the night, and he took a seat beside Neal just as the door opened. Double Trouble entered the room laughing, and they grinned widely in greeting at the others. Paper Star slipped in after them silently and Crackle waited, but there was no sign of Moose Boy or Otterman. 

“Where are Sven and Henrik?” he demanded.

“They both had a bit too much to drink and so they went back to their own room,” Theodore explained.

Crackle nodded, and glanced to Paper Star who was staring at the burnt spot on the carpet and then around the room with an odd expression on her face. Crackle cocked his head as he observed her, wondering if she could actually tell things were different. Her gaze settled on one of the lamps and she frowned, but she didn’t ask about it. Instead, she grabbed a change of clothes and headed for the bathroom.

The twins began telling Neal about their fun night at a nearby club, and Crackle listened, feeling like perhaps his team could finally move past all of their issues. They’d had a rough couple months, but he was honestly getting attached to each and every member of his team, and he wished they just had the chance to prove themselves to V.I.L.E. Dash joined in with the twins discussion, and they told him all about the music, and the drinks they’d tried.

Dash told them about how he’d been forced to mix drinks for Cleo when he’d worked as her assistant, and he’d had no idea what he was doing. He had to watch YouTube videos on how to mix drinks, but she’d never been satisfied with them.

“What did you do, fancy?” Neal asked in interest.

Dash smirked. “I began adding sugar to every drink I made. She didn’t even like the taste of alcohol, and the sugar made it more palatable to her.”

Neal’s eyes widened. “And she didn’t notice?”

Dash snorted. “I just told her I was taking an online bartending course and that’s why there was an improvement.”

Crackle frowned. “And she believed that?”

“She asked me if the drinks were sugar-free, I told her yes, and she didn’t question it further.”

Neal grinned widely and let out a laugh. “Who knew you had the balls, Dashie? That’s hilarious!”

“I like the taste of alcohol just fine,” Roosevelt stated, “I don’t like mine sweet.”

“Sometimes sweet is good,” Theodore disagreed, “I like that lemonade stuff they sell.”

Roosevelt pulled a face. “Ugh, no.”

“I like it all…” Crackle stated thoughtfully.

“Yeah, but you’re Australian, wombat,” Neal replied, waving a hand at him dismissively. “Australians would drink hand sanitizer out of an old boot.”

Crackle felt offended, despite not actually having that many memories of Australia. He felt like he should defend his home country, but had no idea what to say. He gave Neal a mild glare and then responded.

“Yeah, well even completely pissed, Australians can still wipe the floor with New Zealand in every sport!”

Neal blinked, and then sat straight up. “Oh, now **those** are fighting words, you Aussie bastard! You're a few roos short in the head if you think Australia even stands a **chance** against New Zealand!”

Neal’s tone was joking, and Crackle shot him a smirk. “Kiwis are better suited to sticking to their skills,” Crackle retorted, “Like basket weaving and sheep herding.”

“You just **had** to bring the sheep into this!” Neal mock yelled, “Well, this is war, wombat. You and I are now in a feud.”

Crackle laughed, and then noticed everyone else was just staring at them in disbelief.

“What?” he demanded.

“Er… nothing,” Theodore responded, “You two aren’t really mad ar-”

He cut off when there was a sudden loud knock at the door. Crackle tensed up, knowing they were not expecting anyone and immediately reached for the crackle rod.

“Maybe it’s Sven and Henrik?” Neal suggested.

Crackle frowned, and slowly approached the door. “Who’s there?” he called through the door.

“The Cleaners,” came the simple response.

The whole room took a collective deep breath of alarm. Crackle’s eyes widened, and he clenched the crackle rod tightly having no idea what to expect. Opening the door a crack, he peered out and sure enough the two V.I.L.E Cleaners, Boris and Vlad were standing there, expressions completely indifferent.

“What do you want?” Crackle demanded.

“We are here for Dash Haber,” Vlad stated, pushing the door open.

Crackle took a step back and then glanced to Dash who was staring at the Cleaners with wide eyes. The Cleaners had a reputation of being the execution squad and so the whole room was tense and silent as they stepped into the room.

“What do you want with Dash?” Crackle demanded, finger slowly moving towards his weapon’s switch.

“He is to return to New V.I.L.E Island immediately,” Vlad explained, “The Countess Cleo has requested his return to her services. He is no longer a field operative, and he is once again a courier.”

Everyone turned to stare at Dash who looked completely stunned. He seemed speechless for once, and the Cleaners began approaching him.

“Where are your bags?” Boris demanded.

Dash mutely pointed to his dufflebag and Boris immediately hefted it up.

“Come along now, Haber,” Vlad ordered, “A helicopter is waiting for us.”

Dash slowly stood up, glanced around at his former teammates and didn’t seem like he knew what to do. He glanced down at Steve in his arms, and he frowned. Cleo would never permit him to have a pet, and she’d likely have Steve killed if he brought him along. She hated animals and believed them to be dirty, and classless. Gently setting the cat down on the bed, Dash turned to Crackle.

“You’ll take care of Steve, right?” he asked.

Crackle gave him a nod. “We won’t let anything happen to him,” he promised.

Dash was being pulled by an elbow towards the door and his expression was still completely bewildered. He knew he had no choice in the matter, and there was no arguing with the Cleaners. He could keep his dignity and go with them willingly, or be dragged back to V.I.L.E like some kind of degenerate. 

Straightening his back, and masking his uncertainty, he glanced back at his former teammates.

“Well, um, goodbye I guess,” he said.

“Bye, Dash,” Neal said, frowning.

There were a few other murmured farewells, and then Dash was gone, the Cleaners pulling him into the waiting car outside. Everyone stood in the doorway watching the car drive away, and there was a sudden heavy mood in the room. 

“He...he’s gone…” Theodore said hesitantly.

Crackle said nothing, furious over the fact the faculty had done this without warning him first. Without a single word, he slammed the door closed, and then reached for his com to make a phone call.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Siren sang quietly to himself as he worked, trying his best to ignore Braxton who was standing just behind him. He never would have thought he’d miss Terry, but after being beaten every day for three weeks, he just wanted things to return to normalcy. V.I.L.E had reassigned Terry to a different compound after the incident in the lower basement, and Siren was trapped with the gorilla, Braxton.

True to his word, Braxton welded the vent in his bedroom closed, and now Siren had no chance to escape. His every step was shadowed, and if he so much as took a step out of line, he was struck. Siren hadn’t been able to do anything to stop it, and his complaints to Vess fell on deaf ears.

The only positive thing that Siren could see about this situation was that Braxton also didn’t hesitate to strike Michael. If the boy attempted to hit him, push him or even get too close, Michael ended up getting beaten with Braxton's baton. Michael was incapable of learning and so now the boy was covered in tiny bruises from continuously trying to get at him. Siren suspected Michael was more bored than malicious, but he still found it irritating to be constantly ambushed.

Vess glanced up from his research with a disapproving glare, but Siren wasn’t paying him any attention. Siren had added lyrics to classical music, and it was beginning to bother him on a very deep level. He didn’t comment however, since Siren was actually working hard for a change and had translated a massive amount of paperwork.

Siren was trying to come up with a plan to get rid of Braxton, but everything he had tried so far failed, and only ended with him getting another beating. He needed something to happen that was so bad that they couldn’t ignore it. If he could somehow sabotage something and blame Braxton, it might be enough to get him fired.

“Lunchtime, Siren,” Vess called over to him.

Siren didn’t look up from what he was doing.

“Go eat something,” Vess ordered impatiently.

“Not hungry,” Siren responded distractedly.

“Tough. It’s lunchtime, and you’re taking a break,” Vess said, “Go eat a sandwich or something.”

Siren silently shook his head and reached for another translation. Vess narrowed his eyes, knowing he couldn’t allow Siren to make himself sick from malnutrition. They’d been fighting about this for two weeks now and he was quickly getting fed up.

“You have three choices,” Vess informed him, “Eating actual food, drinking a meal replacement shake, or me putting a feeding tube in your stomach.”

This caused Siren to look up in horror. “You wouldn’t!”

“I definitely would,” Vess replied, narrowing his eyes. “The choice is yours. You skip this meal and I’m putting a tube in. I’m sick of fighting about this.”

Siren stared at him in disbelief, but Vess’ expression was anything but joking. Siren heaved an irritated sigh, and then reached into his desk for one of the shakes. Vess had been nagging him for 2 weeks straight to drink them, and Siren hated the taste of them, but they were fast and easy. Twisting the cap off the shake, he downed it, made a face at the bad taste and then tossed it in the garbage can. 

Vess went back to ignoring him, and so Siren reached for another piece of paperwork. Singing a 90’s pop song just loud enough to annoy everyone in the vicinity, he once again began plotting as he translated. 

Siren’s schedule was all decided beforehand, and it was impossible to get Braxton to deviate from it in the least. If he wanted any hope of coming up with a plan, he needed to find a way to escape the gorilla for at least a while.

The door suddenly banged open, and Siren jumped in surprise but then quickly scowled when he saw it was Michael. He went back to his paperwork, but paused when a piece of paper was shoved right under his nose. He pulled back and stared at the folded piece of paper Michael had placed on his desk. Michael wasn’t even looking at him, instead heading over to see Vess.

Siren narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the piece of paper. He poked it with his pen, and when he was sure there wasn’t anything hidden inside it, he reached over and unfolded it. Inside was an incredibly detailed sketch of Siren having his limbs torn off and fed to a shark. ‘**Your a pussy, and I’m going to kill you**’ was written below it, and Siren glanced over at Michael who wasn’t even looking at him.

“Did you draw this?” he asked in surprise.

Michael turned to look at him. “Yeah? So what?” he snapped, tone defensive.

“Huh,” Siren stated, staring at the morbid picture with a frown.

Michael narrowed his eyes. “You have something to say?” he demanded, clenching his fists.

“No, nothing like that, it’s actually quite good,” Siren commented with a shrug. 

Michael blinked like he wasn’t quite sure how to take this, and he gave him a suspicious look.

When Siren said nothing more, Michael turned to Vess. “Are you almost done work?” he asked hopefully.

Vess sighed and didn’t look up. “It’s only lunchtime, Michael, my day has only just started,” he replied.

Michael groaned. “All you **do** is work!” he complained, “I’ve been here almost a month and you haven’t taken a single day off!”

“I’m the lead doctor for V.I.L.E, Michael, I’m **incredibly** busy with the new vaccine research.”

“Can’t you make the eunuch do it?”

“Siren’s not a doctor, he’s a scientist. He’ll be able to help with the vaccine after I’ve made the basic formula, but he’s not qualified to do everything by himself. He’d probably end up poisoning half of V.I.L.E.”

“I resent that!” Siren called over.

“Shut up, wuss!” Michael shot back. “No one’s talking to you!”

“Yeah, but you’re talking **about** me, and so I have a right to defend myself.”

“Mind your own business!” Michael snapped, “Or I’m going to come over there and drown you in your own blood!”

Siren rolled his eyes, but he did go quiet, and so Michael turned back to Vess. “One little day off isn’t going to make that much of a difference.” he argued, “I’m lonely and bored! Come spend some time with me!”

“I told you I’m too busy,” Vess stated, still not looking up from what he was doing.

“But I’m **bored**!” Michael protested, “This place is shit!”

“Why don’t you go play your Nintendo X-Station or whatever it is?” Vess suggested.

Michael pursed his lips, knowing very well Vess knew what the PS4 was. Taking a seat on the edge of Vess’ desk, he leaned over and peered down at what Vess was reading. Seeing a lot of complicated-looking math, he grimaced, and instead glanced around the room. 

His gaze settled on Siren who was ignoring him, and then he shot an uncertain glance to Braxton who was watching him like a hawk. The guard had hit him dozens of times over the last few weeks for bullying Siren, and he was sick of it. Michael glowered at the guard, and then looked back at Vess.

“You should take a short break,” he suggested, “I want to spend some time with you, and we can get lunch together.”

“Some other time, Michael,” Vess said impatiently, “I really need to concentrate on this right now. Please stop distracting me.”

“Come onnnnn!” Michael whined, reaching out for Vess’ hand. “Take a little, tiny break!”

Vess slapped his hand aside, and then flipped to a new page of paperwork. Michael rubbed at his hand with a frown, and then let out a long and over-dramatic groan. Vess continued ignoring him, and so he groaned even louder, hoping for some sort of reaction. Vess said nothing, and so Michael flopped down on the desk his head resting directly on top of Vess’ paperwork. He then stared up at Vess who let out a deep sigh.

“Take a break?” Michael asked, offering him his most charming smile.

“You have five seconds to get your gel-covered hair off my paperwork before I lose my temper,” Vess warned him, eyes narrowing.

Michael’s eyes widened in alarm and he abruptly sat up.

“Off my desk and leave, Michael.”

Michael hopped down from the desk, but didn’t seem overly bothered by this. Walking around to the other side of the desk, he leaned over Vess’ shoulder, trying to get in his field of vision. 

“Lunchbreak,” Michael whispered in his ear cheekily.

Vess let out another exasperated sigh, and turned a glare towards him.

“I said no, and I **mean** it. I’m busy, Michael, **busy**. Do you understand what that means?”

“Well, I-” Michael started, but he was quickly interrupted by Vess.

“No, of **course** you don’t since you’ve never worked a day in your life! Leave me alone while I work, Michael, and go do whatever it is you do all day. I will see you **later** after I finish my research.”

Michael took a step back, and a momentary flash of hurt crossed his face, before he quickly masked it.

“But, Numa, all I **wanted** was to spend a little-”

“Michael, I am about five seconds away from banning you from entering this lab,” Vess warned, “Go do something, **now**!”

Michael flushed, and then clenched his fists. He stood in silence for several long seconds, and then his expression became determined. To Vess’ complete surprise, Michael reached down, snatched the papers out of Vess’ hand, and then slammed them down onto the desk. He then forcibly spun Vess’ chair around. Vess looked up at Michael, his shock evident, but before he could utter a single word, Michael sat down in his lap facing him, placing his hands on the taller man’s shoulders. Vess’ eyes widened, and for once he seemed completely speechless. Michael met his gaze directly, his eyes defiant and clearly saying ‘ignore **this**!’.

Neither said a word for a long moment, and then Michael’s eyes flitted towards the door. Vess swallowed heavily, and then glanced over to Siren, and then back to Michael. Finally Vess allowed a small smile to cross his face, and then he shook his head in amusement.

“Honestly, Michael, you’re going to be the death of me,” he said with a sigh, “I don’t know how I manage to get anything done with you around.”

Michael simply beamed at him, knowing he’d won.

He gave a slow nod, and Michael slid off his lap, looking triumphant. Michael took him by the hand then began tugging him towards the door, and Vess once again glanced back to Siren.

“I’m taking a lunch break,” he called over.

Siren let out a snort. “Yeah, I bet,” he responded, not looking up.

“I’ll be back in an hour.”

Siren finally looked up. “May I use your laptop while you’re gone?”

Vess paused. “What for?” he demanded suspiciously.

Siren gave him a flat look. “Porn. Lots and lots of porn.”

Vess let out a sigh. “Don’t you dare break it.”

“All the mountains of porn might crash it though,” Siren responded earnestly, resting his chin on the palm of his hand.

Vess simply shook his head and continued out the door. Michael glanced back at him and stuck out his tongue, and Siren rolled his eyes.

Siren didn’t bother answering, not especially caring. Once they were gone, Siren glanced over towards Braxton who had his eyes glued to him, expression as stern as always.

“Why don’t you go for a lunch break as well?” Siren suggested, shooting him a dirty look.

“You know I’m not going to let you out of my sight,” Braxton replied, “You might as well give **that** idea up right now.”

Siren rolled his eyes a second time, and then set his paperwork aside. He’d finished everything he was supposed to for the day, and could play on the laptop for a bit until Vess demanded it back. Siren used to have his own laptop, but every time he lost his temper he would chuck it across the room, and after he went through a dozen or so laptops, V.I.L.E banned him from owning one. Vess would sometimes allow him to use his as long as he was careful with it.

Siren got up from his desk and crossed the room, trying to ignore the eyes he could feel following him. Unplugging Vess’ laptop, he carried it back to his desk and then took a seat. Opening the lid, he typed in Vess’ password and then stared at the research currently on the screen. He clicked through a bit of it, but it didn’t interest him, and so he minimized everything.

“Turn the screen so I can monitor what you’re doing,” Braxton ordered.

“Whatever, gorilla,” Siren responded, not moving the laptop in the least.

Opening a new browser window, Siren went to ebay to look for a replacement toy for patient D.D. He hadn’t had the chance to look for anything until now since Vess had been too angry at him to allow him use of the laptop. Three weeks was a long time, but he'd had no other way to order items. 

Siren considered what he should search for and frowned. What sort of things did little girls like? Would she want another car? A doll? A stuffed animal? Typing in the phrase 'female toys' in the search bar, he immediately regretted this decision and quickly hit the back button. Okay, apparently he needed to be a LOT more specific in what he wanted. 

He typed in children's toys, and this time the proper results came up. Scrolling down through the results, he clicked on a rainbow pony toy and thought this might be something a kid would like. He didn’t exactly have a lot of experience in this department however, and so he wasn’t sure.

Suddenly the laptop was grabbed and spun around and Braxton stared at the screen suspiciously. When he saw what Siren was looking at, he gave him a look of complete disbelief. 

“Are you buying a My Little Pony doll?!” he asked.

Siren glanced to the screen, and then gave a shrug. “So what if I am?” he challenged, “I earn my money, and I can spend it on anything I want.”

Braxton gave him a look of disgust, and then turned and walked away without further comment. Siren pulled the laptop back around, and then continued looking down through the list of toys. What was something he’d enjoyed playing with as a kid? Siren thought long and hard, and then searched for Lego. Staring at the hundreds of different box sets, he spotted a pirate ship set and immediately added it to the cart, thinking it looked neat. Using Vess’ paypal account, he paid for it, and then felt like he’d actually accomplished something.

Now he just had to figure out how to get it to her. He glanced at Braxton out of the corner of his eye, and saw he was still watching everything he did. If Siren could even just lose him for an hour, he’d be able to come up with a plan to hopefully get rid of the gorilla permanently. The problem with this plan was the fact Braxton never left him alone for even a moment when Vess wasn’t in the room. Vess was too smart to let Siren sneak off when the guard was out of the room, and so Siren hadn’t managed to slip away. 

Thinking of the vent in his room, he doubted he’d be able to unweld it without anyone noticing. How else could he lose Braxton? Tapping his fingers on his desk as he thought, his eyes suddenly widened. Braxton was only human and so he still needed to eat and drink. The man kept a bottle of gatorade on hand at all times, and Siren began getting an idea. If he could put something in Braxton’s drink…

Siren glanced at Braxton out of the corner of his eye. There was no way he could get his hands on poison or anything even remotely similar, since Vess checked every package that entered the lab. He’d have to order something that wouldn’t be subject to suspicion. 

Siren thought for a moment and then brought up Amazon. After a quick search, he added a powerful liquid laxative to his cart. He shot Braxton another quick glance, but the guard wasn’t looking. Knowing Vess would be suspicious if that was the only thing he bought, he began adding dozens of random things to his cart. When he had over a hundred items, he checked out and used Vess’ credit card number that he had memorized. 

Siren didn’t own a credit card or have any way to pay for online purchases himself, and so he hoped Vess wouldn’t bitch about this. Once he had completed the purchase, he logged into his V.I.L.E bank account and sent a transfer to Vess for the money he had spent. At least this way Vess couldn’t accuse him of stealing from him. Hopefully this purchase would be able to slip by unquestioned. The packages would arrive at the V.I.L.E warehouse in Moscow and then be forwarded to him with the regular mail.

Feeling rather pleased with himself, Siren began to hum to himself, and logged onto his facebook so he could check his farm. For some reason he had put his name as Ted Roo, and shook his head knowing his mind was still pretty messed up. Although he had his memories, the moments of confusion seemed to be getting more frequent, and Siren was beginning to suspect he had some sort of brain damage from Vess’ experiments. He’d have no way of knowing the extent of any damage until he finally managed to escape.

About twenty minutes later, Vess and Michael returned, and Siren didn’t bother looking up.

Michael had his arm wrapped tightly around Vess’ waist as they walked, and he was all smiles. He seemed in a much better mood than before, his entire posture relaxed. Vess glanced down at him affectionately, his own arm wrapped loosely around Michael’s shoulders. Vess then turned his gaze to Siren who seemed to be concentrating very hard on the computer screen.

“What are you looking at now?” Vess asked him as he passed by his desk.

“Porn,” Siren replied, watering his strawberries in farmville.

Vess rolled his eyes, but Michael approached to peek over Siren’s shoulder.

“Are you playing Farmville?!” he demanded.

“Nope,” Siren answered as he began harvesting corn.

Michael was immediately indignant, and he looked over to Vess. “How come **he** can have Facebook but **I** can’t?” he demanded in outrage.

“Siren has no friends on his account, he isn’t an idiot, and he's not a threat to our security,” Vess replied, taking a seat at his desk.

Michael seemed annoyed, and leaned over Siren’s shoulder again to watch him play. Siren flashed him an annoyed look, and then closed the laptop, causing Michael to scowl at him.

“You can go take lunch, Braxton,” Vess instructed, “I’ll watch Siren while you’re gone.”

Braxton gave a nod and then left the room, clearly glad for a break. Siren watched him leave, and then turned his attention to Vess who was already going back to his research. Michael stared at Braxton as the guard left the lab, and once he was gone he immediately turned back to Siren, a large grin in place.

“You’re such a loser,” he commented.

“Uh huh,” Siren answered without interest.

Michael reached out and grabbed a handful of Siren’s hair and jerked his head back hard. “Your fucking guard is a menace,” he hissed into Siren’s ear, “Because of **you**, that bastard has been beating the shit out of me for weeks!”

Siren grit his teeth at the pain, and looked up at Michael. “It’s not my fault you’re too stupid to stay away from me,” Siren replied.

Michael’s eyes widened and then with a scowl, he yanked Siren’s hair hard enough to make his eyes water. “Don’t call me stupid!” Michael snapped angrily, “I’m not stupid!”

“Whatever you say,” Siren said, yelping as Michael yanked his hair so hard he was almost pulled out of his seat.

Vess looked up at the yelp, and then sighed. “Michael, leave Siren alone,” he ordered.

“But, Numa!” Michael whined, “He called me stupid!”

“I don’t care what he said,” Vess snapped, “Now let him go!”

Michael let go of Siren’s hair and he gave Siren a look of complete loathing. “You’re such a pathetic crybaby,” he commented, “Why don’t you try sticking up for yourself, instead being a fucking coward and depending on everyone **else** to save your ass?”

Siren rubbed at his sore head, and then replied, “_ Is fearr rith maith ná drochsheasamh _.”

Michael blinked. “What the hell does **that** mean?! Are you making fun of me? What did you say?”

Siren gave him a confused look. “...aren’t you Irish?”

“Yeah, so?”

“You’re Irish, and don’t speak Irish?!” Siren asked in surprise.

Michael’s face flushed. “Shut up! Irish is fucking hard! Just speak in English!”

Siren stared at him a moment and then looked over to Vess. [[Numa, I sent you an e-transfer of money,]] he said in Arabic.

Vess glanced up, answering in Arabic by reflex. [[What? Why?]]

[[I didn’t have a credit card and wanted to buy a few things online.]]

Vess narrowed his eyes. [[You used my credit card without permission?!]]

“What are you saying?” Michael demanded angrily, “Speak in English!”

[[Yeah, your Paypal account too.]]

Vess looked mildly annoyed. [[It’s incredibly rude and unprofessional to use someone’s credit card without their permission!]] he scolded, [[You better not have entered my details on any suspicious websites!]]

[[You mean I shouldn’t have given all your info to this nice Nigerian Prince I was chatting with? He insisted he would send me a fortune if I just gave him access to your credit card!]]

Vess sighed heavily, realizing he had better things he could be doing. [[Just ask permission next time.]]

Vess went back to working, and Michael was glancing back and forth between them, looking confused and angry.

“You were both talking about me, weren’t you!” he accused, “What were you saying?!”

Siren shrugged and Michael grabbed a hold of him and yanked him out of his chair, causing the chair to crash to the floor. Vess looked up again and his brows knitted in pure frustration.

“I said leave him alone, Michael!” he snapped, “Don’t make me tell you again!”

Michael glared at Siren, but he did reluctantly release him.

“Go do something else, and leave this lab right now,” Vess ordered, “I need to concentrate and I can’t do that with you constantly distracting me!”

“Just take the rest of the day off!” Michael suggested, shooting him a charming smile.

Vess didn’t even bother answering.

Michael gave Siren a light shove, and then made his way across the room. “Can I help, Numa?”

“You can help by leaving the lab.”

Siren righted his chair, and then picked up the laptop to return it to Vess. Michael glared at him as he approached, but neither said anything. Siren set the laptop down, and then turned to head back to his own desk.

“Numa, play PS4 with me?”

“No.”

“Just for a little while?”

“No, Michael, I already took a break, and now I’m behind on my work.”

Michael did his best to look sad and pathetic, but Vess wasn’t swayed. He just ignored him, and Michael let out a groan.

“I want to play PS4,” he complained.

“Then go do that,” Vess replied, giving him a not so subtle shove towards the door.

“It’s boring by myself! Come play Call of Duty with me!”

“I’m busy, Michael. **No**.”

“But I want someone to play with!” Michael whined, “I’m boooooored!”

Siren suddenly had an idea. It was a dangerous and possibly stupid idea, but he didn’t see a whole lot of other options.

“Michael, leave this lab now,” Vess ordered, “Go play your games by yourself!”

“I’ll play with you,” Siren found himself saying.

Vess’ head snapped up and he stared at Siren in disbelief. His eyes then narrowed suspiciously, certain Siren was up to something. Michael gaped at him, genuinely taken by surprise, and then he scowled.

“Who says I’d want to play with **you**!?” he sneered, crossing his arms.

Siren gave him a shrug. “Fine, then play by yourself.”

Siren then took a seat at his desk and pulled a pile of paperwork in front of him. He could see how Michael was fidgeting out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t look up.

“Okay, **fine**,” Michael snarled, “I’ll let you play, but you better not be a weirdo!”

Vess was still staring directly at Siren, trying to figure out what Siren was up to. He knew very well how much he hated Michael, and so this was **extremely** odd. Siren would never dare try to hurt Michael, knowing the rage he’d be faced with when Vess got his hands on him. No, whatever Siren was planning had nothing to do with Michael. This was something else entirely...

Siren gave Vess a quick glance and knew he would have to tread extremely carefully.

“Come on then, crybaby,” Michael said, turning towards the door.

“Wait a second,” Vess ordered, never taking his eyes off Siren.

Michael paused. “What?” he demanded.

Vess gave Siren a long and searching look, trying to figure out what he was planning. “Siren, look at me for a second.”

Siren hesitantly turned his gaze to Vess, and he shifted uncomfortably at the direct eye contact. Vess didn’t trust Siren for an instant, but he couldn’t think of a single thing Siren could be up to. He didn’t really like the idea of giving him the opportunity to do something he wasn’t allowed to, but the thought of having the lab completely to himself was tempting.

“You will never once leave Michael’s side,” Vess said firmly, “I will be asking him about everything later.”

Siren wasn’t actually expecting Vess to give in this easily. He was now going to be out of Vess’ sight with no guard. Siren gave him a nod, and then got up from his seat. He made sure to avoid looking at Vess as he followed Michael out of the lab, his mind already planning how he would ditch Michael. The second they were in alone in the hall, Michael rounded on him and grabbed him by the front of the shirt.

“No one to protect you this time!” he said with a smirk, raising his fist.

“Wait!” Siren cried out, reaching out to grab Michael by the arm. “Just a second!”

To his surprise, Michael actually hesitated. “What?” he demanded.

“We need to talk.”

Michael gave him a wary look. “About what?”

“Well,” Siren said, trying to think of how to phrase it, “You and I have a common problem…”

Michael’s expression turned angry. “I don’t have **anything** in common with **you**!”

“We both hate Braxton,” Siren stated bluntly.

Michael couldn’t deny that, and he frowned. “Yeah, so?”

“You interested in getting rid of him?”

Michael seemed surprised for a moment, but then his fist came down and hit Siren hard in the kidneys. Siren let out a startled cry and doubled over, wheezing from the unexpected hit.

“Fine, forget it!” Siren said, clutching at his side in agony. “Forget I said anything!”

“No, I’m listening,” Michael responded, “Get rid of him how?”

Siren looked up at him in disbelief. “Why did you hit me?!”

Michael gave him a shrug.

Siren scowled and rubbed at his sore side before straightening back up. “Let’s discuss this somewhere a little more private, and I’ll tell you.”

Michael glanced around at the empty hallway, and then rolled his eyes. “Fine, come on then, nerd.”

Michael walked away, and Siren followed along behind him, keeping a wary eye on the other man. Michael led him to Vess’ private quarters, and when the door was opened, Siren saw it was about 5 times the size of his own living space. 

“What the hell,” he complained seeing Vess had a full living room and his own kitchen. “How is this fucking fair? I live in a closet.”

Michael wasn’t listening however, and hopped over the back of a nearby couch, where he grabbed the remote and turned on the tv. Siren glanced all around Vess’ apartment and his gaze immediately fell on the electronics. He stared at them for a long moment, and knew a few would have parts he could use. Vess would definitely notice if he started stealing parts, and that was attention he definitely didn’t need right now.

He took a seat at the other end of the couch, and Michael tossed a PS4 controller at him.

“So what about your guard?” he demanded.

“Braxton has to go,” Siren informed him, knowing he couldn’t trust Michael with very much information.

“Yeah, and?”

“I need your help.”

Michael powered on his PS4, and then shot him a frown. “And what would I have to do?”

“Not much, just help me distract Braxton when the time comes, and I’ll figure it out from there.”

Michael narrowed his eyes. “Why should I help you? What’s in it for me?”

“You’d never have to see Braxton again?”

Michael snorted. “I could just avoid him,” he pointed out, starting the game.

Siren raised a brow. “Then why **don’t** you?”

Michael glared at him and then slumped down in his seat as he turned his attention to the screen. “I could if I wanted to,” he muttered, “I just keep forgetting.”

“Distract him and I’ll make sure Braxton disappears,” Siren promised.

“You gonna kill him?”

Siren gave a shrug, and Michael stared at him a moment and then mirrored the shrug, deciding he didn’t really care.

Michael still looked somewhat skeptical however, and he glanced towards the door. “That’s it? That’s all I have to do? Distract him?”

Siren nodded. “It will take me a few days to get everything ready.”

Michael shook his head. “No, if I agree to help you, I want something in return.”

Siren let out a deep sigh. “What do you want?”

“I want my weed back.”

“I told you that I flushed it,” Sire replied, “I don’t have it.”

“Then no deal,” Michael replied, “I won’t help, and I’m going to tell Numa about this conversation.”

Siren let out a frustrated curse, and glowered at Michael angrily. “God, I hate you,” he commented, “Fine, I’ll return your damn bag of weed. It will take me a couple days to get my hands on it.”

Michael seemed pleased with this and he gave him an infuriating smirk. “Get me the weed, and then we’ll talk. Until then, I’ll keep my mouth shut. Now play Call of Duty with me.”

“Fine,” Siren agreed, grabbing the controller.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

When Chase and Julia returned from Ontario, Canada, they explained everything that had happened, and it was obvious A.C.M.E was once again starting to take action. Team Crackle had decimated A.C.M.E during the fight in the parking garage, but it looked like they were still going to be a threat. Carmen was incredibly tired and weak, but she made it clear they had to lay low until they could make it back to San Diego. She had no idea what Player’s password was, and knew it was much too risky to just make a guess. 

Knowing they had to buy a little time to figure out how to break through Player’s encryption, Shadowsan told the Russians that Mime Bomb was too weak to be moved out of the hospital right now. The man he spoke with had been furious and he vowed to kill Player before disconnecting the call. 

There were a few minutes of utter terror before a different man called them back and assured them Player would **not** be harmed. He seemed incredibly concerned about why Mime Bomb was in the hospital, and Shadowsan explained that Mime Bomb was recovering from a serious surgery, but he didn’t give any further details. The man stated they would give them a month, and then call back to arrange the trade. 

Team Red all began researching how to get their hands on a military grade code breaking device, but after two weeks of planning, they were no further ahead. Carmen couldn’t so much as sit up in bed, and she was angry and frustrated she couldn’t help more. Mime Bomb was faring better and by the second week, he was almost feeling as good as new. He still wasn’t allowed to walk, but he was awake and alert and eager to help in any way he could. 

Shadowsan wanted him to concentrate on recovering instead, and so the decision was made for the rest of the team to handle the mission to break into a military base. Mime Bomb had been furious, but Shadowsan could not be swayed, and so Mime Bomb was forced to sit by the sidelines, and simply watch. Zack stayed by Mime Bomb’s side at all times, and having nothing better to do, they started spending hours every day practicing sign language.

The team struggled without a tech guy, and every plan they came up with was flimsy at best. Tensions began to develop between team members as no one could agree on anything, and finally after a particularly nasty argument, Le Chèvre stormed from the hospital in a fit of temper. El Topo followed after him, worried about the stress getting to them all.

“Jean Paul!” he called out, catching him by the elbow, “Wait!”

Le Chèvre paused, and then glanced back at his partner. He could see the worry in El Topo’s eyes, and he let out an exasperated sigh.

“I don’t think I can keep doing this, Antonio.”

“What do you mean?” El Topo asked, gently pulling Le Chèvre around to face him.

Le Chèvre gestured angrily towards the hospital. “This team is complete chaos, and no one is ever going to agree on **anything** ! Player was the only thing keeping this team together and it’s pathetic. How these idiots were ever a threat to V.I.L.E I’ll never know. They depended on a small child to do **everything** for them!”

_ “Mi amor… _”

Le Chèvre shook his head. “_ Non _, I am right and you know it. Carmen is too injured to be of any help, and everyone else is just spiraling. We are going to get ourselves killed if we go ahead with this foolish plan!”

“We have to save Player, Jean Paul,” El Topo said firmly, “He’s just a kid.”

“Exactly!” Jean Paul exclaimed, once again gesturing towards the hospital. “They put the life of a thirteen year old boy in danger, and they don’t even see what they did was wrong! I had no idea Player was that young, and it’s pathetic and disgusting!”

El Topo shifted a bit uncomfortably. “...I did not even think of that,” he admitted sheepishly.

Le Chèvre’s expression softened, and he placed a reassuring hand on El Topo’s shoulder. “We are new to this team, and neither of us realized this. Player **sounded** young, but he was so reliable and smart, that I never even questioned it.”

“What are you saying, Jean Paul?” El Topo asked worriedly, “Are you thinking of quitting Team Red?”

Le Chèvre let out a deep breath. “I just need some time to think,” he stated, turning away, “I’m going for a walk and I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“I’ll go with you!”

Le Chèvre shook his head. “_ Non _ , I wish to be alone,” he said, averting his gaze, “It has nothing to do with you, _ mon amour _, I just need some time alone with my thoughts.”

El Topo gave him a somewhat lost expression, but nodded all the same. “I understand,” he told him, “Do you have your inhaler, just in case?”

Le Chèvre held the inhaler up to put El Topo’s worries to rest, and then said, “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

El Topo watched Le Chèvre walk off down the sidewalk, and he hoped by the time he returned he would be cooled off enough to have a rational discussion about all of this.

Le Chèvre walked fast and hard, not really having a destination in mind. He wanted to go for a run, but he knew that would be a mistake considering his breathing problems. He was furious at how Team Red was handling the current situation, but he knew he wasn’t much better. What use was he to anyone like this? He didn’t know computers, he wasn’t overly smart, and now he couldn’t even offer his athleticism to the team. He felt like he’d done nothing, and it was seriously eating away at him.

His breathing was starting to become strained, and so he stopped walking and took a seat on a nearby bench to catch his breath. Taking a puff from his inhaler, he stared across the paved walkways, feeling his frustration only grow. It was pathetic how much he whined about his breathing, but Le Chèvre couldn’t accept it no matter how much time passed. He thought about it constantly, and longed to once again run and leap like he used to.

His phone dinged, and he pulled it out of his pocket, expecting to see a text from El Topo. Instead he saw a text message from an unknown number.

‘**Are you alone?**’

Le Chèvre scoffed at the message and dismissed it. What kind of stupid scam was this?

He sat for ten minutes or so until his chest loosened a bit, and then he got to his feet, to head back towards the hospital. He had no idea what to say to El Topo when he returned, but he knew they needed to have a long conversation. Things couldn’t continue to go the way they were. His phone dinged again and he pulled it out, seeing a message from the same number.

‘**We need to talk, Le Chèvre.**’

He stared at his phone and furrowed his brow. This wasn’t a scam, someone knew who he was. Glancing all around, he didn’t see anyone around, and so he took a seat on another bench.

‘**Who is this?**’ he typed back.

The reply came immediately. ‘**I can help you. Are you currently alone? I don’t want us being overheard.**’

Le Chèvre was unbelievably suspicious, and he knew he should immediately report this to the others, but his curiosity was piqued. Who was this, and how did they find out his phone number? He stared at his screen in silence as he debated, and finally his curiosity won out and he once again replied. 

‘**Yes, I’m alone right now.**’

His phone immediately began to vibrate as the strange number began calling him. He stared for a long moment and then swiped his finger to accept the call. Dr. Vess’ face appeared on his screen.

“Good afternoon, Le Chèvre,” he greeted, expression giving nothing away.

Le Chèvre gave him a look of complete disgust, and reached out a finger to hang up the call. “I think not,” he stated.

“I know how to fix the scarring on your lungs.”

Le Chèvre’s finger froze just above the end-call button. Slowly he withdrew his hand, and then stared at Vess with narrowed eyes.

“I studied your medical records, and this is something I can correct,” Vess informed him, “You know I’m one of the world’s best surgeons.”

Le Chèvre narrowed his eyes even further. “Why are you telling me this?” he demanded, “Trying to rub it in?”

Vess rolled his eyes. “Of course not,” he replied, “I’m proposing we make a deal.”

Le Chèvre snorted. “I will pass.”

Vess raised a brow and then leaned towards the screen. “Give me Mime Bomb and I will remove the scarring from your lungs.”

Le Chèvre wasn’t impressed. “Oh yes, I will definitely give myself right over to V.I.L.E to be killed. I’ll get right on that.”

“This has nothing to do with V.I.L.E,” Vess replied, “They have no idea I’m making this call. This is a deal just between you and I.”

“Not interested,” Le Chèvre said, once again reaching to hang up the call.

“You’re not tired of being a shell of who you were previously?” Vess demanded, “You’re not tired of the pain, of the fear, and of feeling useless?”

Again Le Chèvre paused.

“Do you really care that much about the little tattletale mime? He’s **nothing** to you, but your ability to climb is what you live for. Give me the mime, and you have my word that I will repair your lungs, and you’ll be better than ever.”

“Do you honestly think I would betray my own team?”

Vess met his gaze directly. “Yes,” he answered with absolute certainty, “Don’t delude yourself into thinking you care about them. You already know what's important to you, and the mime means nothing.”

“And you think I would trust you why?” he demanded.

“What other choice do you have?” Vess challenged.

Le Chèvre fell silent, and simply stared at the other man. The thought of getting his life back was tempting, but he would be giving up a teammate to achieve it. He’d never liked Mime Bomb and found him to be useless and weak, but that didn’t mean he wanted him to get hurt. Could he really hand Mime Bomb over like that? What would Vess do to him?

“Keep this conversation between us, or else this offer will be revoked,” Vess warned him, “I will contact you in 7 days, and will expect your response.”

Vess disconnected the call and Le Chèvre continued staring at his phone, feeling angry and conflicted. He knew Vess had the knowledge and experience to complete the surgery, but Vess had proven that he couldn’t be trusted. Le Chèvre shoved his phone into his pocket, and glared at the ground as he thought. Did he want to spend the rest of his life barely able to breathe, barely able to function at life? 

His thought turned to Mime Bomb and everything the other man had been through. What meant more to him, his lungs or Mime Bomb’s freedom?

Cursing under his breath, Le Chèvre turned and headed back to the hospital, knowing he had a lot of thinking to do.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Player ran as long as he could before he finally had to stop to catch his breath. The town seemed to be quite poor, with old stone houses and dirt roads, and Player had no idea where in India he was. Everyone stared at him as he passed, and he knew it was probably uncommon to see a foreigner in such a remote area. He tried asking for help, but no one seemed to speak English and simply stared at him as if he were some kind of curiosity. The town was so remote that he saw no signs of electricity, and so his search for a payphone proved to be fruitless.

The blazing hot sun beat down on him mercilessly, and Player’s tan skin was burning as he walked along, but he didn’t stop. Finally coming across a well, he stopped and peeked down inside it, unable to see the bottom. Terribly thirsty, he eyed the bucket and rope and unlatched it from where it was hung. There were several women gathered around the well chatting, and when they saw him, they began watching him, and clearly talking about him to each other.

Tossing the bucket down into the well, he heard a distant splash and then began pulling it back up. This seemed to amuse the women and they laughed, but made no move to help him. The bucket was far heavier than he expected, and by the time he got it up, he was breathing hard.

Looking into the bucket, he was relieved at the sight of the fresh and clear water. Raising the bucket to his lips, he was suddenly given a hard smack across the back of the head. Startled, he almost dropped the bucket and turned around to see an old woman scowling at him.

She pointed to a metal cup hanging nearby, and then motioned taking a drink. He unhooked the cup, dipped it into the bucket and then held it out to her, thinking she was thirsty. The old woman sighed, rolled her eyes and then gently pushed the cup towards him. Player now understood and drank desperately from the cup. He refilled it several times, finally feeling a little bit better.

“Do you speak English?” Player asked the old woman hopefully.

She simply stared at him.

“_ Parlez-vous Français _?” he tried.

Again the woman simply stared at him. Letting out a disappointed sigh, Player emptied the rest of the bucket over his head to cool down, and hung everything back up. Knowing he couldn’t stay still for long, Player waved goodbye to the women, and then continued on his way through the narrow streets. He walked and walked and then walked some more, and by the time the sun began setting, he was absolutely exhausted. 

He’d assumed this was a town, but now he realized it must have actually been the outskirts of a larger city. If he kept walking long enough, he’d have to eventually reach an area that was more developed. Taking a seat on a set of stone stairs, Player leaned against the side of a house and yawned. His stomach was growling, but he was much too tired to do anything about it. Just wanting to rest his eyes for an hour or so, he relaxed and curled up, trying to be as unnoticeable as possible. When Player awoke hours later, it was to someone poking him painfully.

Opening his eyes, he saw it was now sunrise, and there was a small boy staring at him.

“Hello,” Player greeted, sleepily.

The boy gave him another poke, and Player winced in pain. Pain? Why was he in pain? Sitting up, agony coursed through him when he realized his entire body was badly sunburnt.

“Oh, ow!” Player complained, looking down at his arm.

His arm was bright red and blistered, and he realized wearing shorts and t-shirt when you’re not used to the sun probably wasn’t the best idea. The boy gave him another curious poke, and Player yelped in pain.

“Stop that!” he ordered, getting to his feet.

Stretching as carefully as he could, Player stepped out of the alley, and saw vendors were just starting to set up for the day. His stomach gave a loud growl, but he didn’t have any money to buy anything. Once he got to a police station, or an embassy he knew they’d feed him there. He just had to keep moving and eventually he’d find someone to help him. Glancing back at the small boy, he saw there were now two other children staring at him, and so he simply smiled, waved and then continued on his way.

Player tried to stay to the shade as much as possible as he walked, but every part of him was in agony and his hunger was getting worse and worse. Player had never missed a meal before, and with all the exercise he’d been doing, he felt like he was starving to death. The street food smelled amazing and once or twice Player found himself standing next to the stalls, simply looking at the food. He was hoping someone would offer him some food, but the vendors were poor and they had nothing to spare. He found himself chased away again and again.

Player was resting after a few hours of walking when he saw a man watching him from one of the nearby alleys. Player waved to him, and then the man waved back, his gaze making Player a bit uncomfortable. 

“Hello!” Player greeted, “Do you speak English!”

“Yes,” the man replied, taking a step forward, “I know a bit,”

Relief flooded Player and he got up to head for him. “Can you please help me?” he asked.

The man scratched his bearded face for a moment, his eyes still a bit too intense for Player’s liking. “What is the problem?” the man asked, his accent thick.

“Some bad men kidnapped me, and I need to get to the police or an embassy! Can you help me?”

The man gave a slow nod. “Yes, yes, I will help you. Safiq will take good care of you. Come, come!”

Player let out a deep breath and followed after the man, glad to have **finally** found someone able to help him. Safiq was incredibly thin and he walked with a slow limp, and Player saw that one of his feet was twisted. 

“Is it far?” Player asked, concerned for the man’s leg.

“No, it’s just up ahead!” Safiq assured him.

As they walked through the allies, it became less and less crowded, and the houses became shabbier and shabbier. Starting to get a bad feeling about this, Player glanced around, not liking how isolated they now were.

“Um, I think I’ll just wait on the main street…” Player told him.

Safiq glanced back at him, his intense eyes making Player suddenly afraid. “Nonsense, I am going to call for help,” he told him, “The phone is just up ahead.”

Player stopped walking, and then slowly shook his head. “No...sorry, I have to go…”

Safiq suddenly grabbed a hold of him, and began dragging him further down the alley, all hints of a limp gone. Although thin, the man was strong, and Player yelled and struggled but couldn’t break his hold. He screamed as loud as he could, but there was no one to hear him, and he spotted a building that Safiq was dragging him towards.

Everything in Player was screaming that if he entered that building, he would never make it out again. Sheer panic coursed through him, and he fought with everything he had, and Safiq struggled to keep a hold of him. Player kicked out with both of his feet and aimed at Safiq’s kneecap, and the man went down hard, landing on top of Player. Player struggled underneath him, and Safiq drew a knife, expression furious. Player kicked and thrashed underneath him, and then he remembered the piece of metal in his sock. Reaching down, he pulled it out, and without even thinking about it, he stabbed Safiq hard in the eye.

Safiq howled in agony and he reared back, clapping his hands to his bleeding eye. Player scrambled away, and without looking back, he ran for it as fast as he could. He ran and ran through the streets, terrified, and just wanting to find someone to help him. He ran until he collapsed, and then he curled into a tight ball in the shade of a tree, hoping no one would notice him.

He felt really stupid, and he knew he never should have trusted Safiq. He’d been told hundreds of times to never go with a stranger, and he’d done just that and almost paid for it with his life. Player pulled at his hair in distress, and wheezed as he fought to catch his breath. He had zero street sense, and he knew he’d made a terrible mistake. How could he be so stupid?

As soon as he caught his breath, he got up and forced himself to keep running, just trying to put as much distance as he could between him and that alley of death. 

Player drank every time he came to a well, but water only took away the hunger for a short time, and then it was back worse than ever.

Player then realized he’d somehow been going in circles when he passed by the same fruit vendor for the third time. Unbelievably stressed and frustrated, Player felt like he was in a maze. By the time it was once again sunset, he was even more sunburnt, and felt absolutely awful.

Rubbing his growling belly, he stared at the piles of fresh fruit on the stand, and wondered if he could get away with stealing a piece of fruit. He needed to keep his energy up, and he was feeling weak with hunger and exhaustion. Player had worked with thieves daily for the last two years, and so he was confident that he’d probably picked up a few things from watching Carmen over the last couple years. 

The vendor was a large and slightly overweight middle-aged man, and Player was willing to bet he could outrun him. Stepping off to one side, he subtly eyed the fruit, trying to decide what to go for. The mangos were probably the easiest thing to go for, and also the most filling. He slowly began edging his way closer to the stall, and once he saw the vendor turn his back, he reached out for a mango.

The vendor spun around faster than he could blink and he had Player by the wrist before he could so much as take a step. Dropping the mango, Player yanked on his wrist, but the vendor’s grip was strong and he began yelling at Player in a language he didn’t understand.

He suddenly slapped Player hard across the ears, and Player felt tears come to his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Player protested, pulling desperately at his arm. “I was just hungry!”

He received another swat across the ears, and this time Player did begin to cry. All of the pain, hunger and stress of the last several weeks finally spilled over, he began to sob, just wanting to go home. The vendor’s expression changed when he saw the tears, and he really looked at Player for the first time. Seeing the sunburn, the dirty clothes, and fear in the boy's eyes, the vendor frowned, and then let out a sigh.

He asked Player something gruffly, but when it became clear the boy couldn’t understand, he softened his tone and said something else. Player wiped at his eyes and looked up at the man who pulled him over to take a seat on a nearby crate. Too tired and upset to protest, Player remained sitting there as he watched the man gather his produce into bags. The man then hefted the heavy bags over his shoulder and then motioned for Player to come with him.

When Player didn’t move, reached down and pulled him up by the shirt. The man then pointed, and Player nodded, not really knowing where else he could go. Was the man taking him to jail? Jail meant police, and the police could get him home! Player honestly hoped he was getting arrested, and he eagerly followed after the man, finally having a bit of hope. They walked through the maze of streets, but to Player’s surprise the man led him to a small house.

Player stopped dead in his tracks remembering the man from before, and didn’t want to take any chances. It was then that several small children burst out of the house, large smiles in place as they ran to greet their father. The vendor smiled warmly at his children and knelt to hug them, and Player relaxed, realizing this man didn’t mean him any harm.

The children then swarmed Player, looking at him in absolute delight, and to his surprise they began pulling him towards the house. The vendor followed along behind him, and when Player entered the home, the smell of delicious food hit him and his stomach growled loudly.

The vendor’s wife entered the room, and when she saw Player, her eyes widened and she spoke to her husband, seemingly alarmed. He spoke with her calmly and then ushered Player to sit down on one of the cushions on the floor. Player took a seat, and the other children quickly chose their own cushions to sit on. He watched the vendor and his wife quietly argue, and then the wife stormed away from him, clearly exasperated.

She came back carrying a massive platter of food, and Player’s stomach gave another loud growl. She set the platter down on the table in front of them, and she then set a gentle hand on Player’s cheek and motioned towards the food. Player hesitated, but when he saw everyone else digging in, he reached for a naan and broke off a piece and dipped it into the dish of curry. The sweet taste of the Indian spices was delicious, and Player dipped another piece in and then another. He was so hungry that he didn’t even notice when the wife got up and went into the kitchen to bring in more naan for him.

Player ate until he could barely move, but no one seemed bothered by the fact he had taken so much. The wife gave him another pat on the cheek as she cleaned up, and then the vendor placed a mango into his hands. Player’s face flushed at the show of kindness.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

The man gave him a small nod, patted him on the head and then left the room to speak privately with his wife. Player tore into the mango with his fingers, and tried a bite, the sweet fruit tasting better than any fruit he’d tried in Canada. He ate the whole thing, and by the time he had finished, the vendor and his wife returned. He was given a damp cloth to wash his sticky hands, and then he watched as the vendor left the house. Player didn’t have much time to consider this, because he was soon ushered into a room with the other kids, and as the others all laid down on the soft mats, he realized he was being put to bed.

“I need to get to the police!” Player told her, pointing towards the door.

She lifted her hands and made a sleeping motion and then pointed towards the mat. 

“But-”

She gave him a not so subtle nudge, and Player found himself obeying, crawling onto the mat with the others. The wife selected a book from the bookshelf, settled herself down with the children and then opened to the first page. Player listened as she read the story, the children clearly enthralled, and by the pictures, he assumed it was a story about a princess and an elephant. Not understanding what she was saying made all of her words seem to blend together, and Player found the gentle hum of her words began making him sleepy. He fell asleep before the story had finished, and he didn’t see the way the wife smiled at him gently. Once she settled all of her children, she covered them with blankets, and then quietly snuck out of the room, closing the door after her.

It was the smell of food that woke Player, and when he sat up, he saw he was the only one still in the room. Rubbing at his eyes, he slowly got up and then made his way towards the doorway. The family was eating breakfast and Player was waved over, and he eagerly joined them, remembering the delicious food from the night before.

Breakfast was naan, fruit and spiced chickpeas, and he eagerly had some of everything. Just as the wife was clearing the table, there came a loud knock at the door. The vendor got up to answer it, and when he opened the door, Viktor and Boris stepped inside.

“No!” Player cried out, scrambling to get up.

As he made to run for the other room, Viktor ran after him and quickly caught him by the arm. Player kicked and struggled, and then to his surprise, Viktor slapped him incredibly hard across the seat of his shorts. Player let out a sharp yelp and went still, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“Ow!” he complained. “You hit me!”

“**Enough**,” Viktor said, his tone dangerous, “No more trouble, Matteo!”

Player glanced over at Boris just in time to see the man hand a wad of cash to the vendor. He’d been sold out.

“I trusted you!” Player yelled as Viktor began dragging him towards the door. “I trusted you!”

The vendor and his family seemed puzzled and somewhat concerned by Player’s reactions, and Player wondered if perhaps they didn’t know these were kidnappers. Did they think the Russians were his family? He saw the vendor try to refuse the cash, but Boris pressed it into his hand, and then Player was once again being dragged towards the door.

“Help!” he called out to the family, “Please help me!”

They said nothing as Player and the Russians left the house, and Player felt like all hope was gone. It was obvious the men were furious, and he wondered what they were going to do to him. They wouldn’t break his legs so he couldn’t run away, would they? He paled at the thought, and struggled uselessly against Viktor’s hold. Viktor flashed him a warning look, and Player stilled, not wanting to be struck again. There was nothing he could do; he was completely at their mercy.

Player was taken to a nearby car, and he was made to get in. There was complete silence during the drive back, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

When they made it back to the walled house he’d escaped from, Boris and Viktor spoke in Russian with each other and seemed to be having some sort of disagreement. Player was pulled roughly out of the car and then dragged inside the house. He was shoved into his room, and the door was immediately locked. He heard a lot of yelling from the other room, and then a few minutes later Viktor entered carrying a jar of cream. Closing the door after him, he gave Player an angry look.

“I am supposed to give you a beating while I’m in here, but I’m not going to do that.”

Player slowly took a seat on the bed. “Oh..okay,” he said hesitantly, “Um, thank you?”

“You have betrayed the trust I showed you,” Viktor informed him, “Do you have any idea how stupid and how dangerous it was to run off by yourself? You could have been killed!”

Player thought of Safiq and he averted his gaze. “You’re kidnappers,” he pointed out.

“Yes, we kidnapped you, Matteo, but haven’t we treated you well? Haven’t we been fair?”

“I want to go home,” Player told him miserably.

Viktor sighed heavily. “I know you do, and you’ll be going home in just a few days, I promise. Just hang in there a little while longer and we’ll return you to your mother.”

After the experience Player had on the streets, he knew it would be dumb to try it again. He gave him a resigned nod.

“Your sunburn is very bad,” Viktor informed him, “I brought you some burn cream. Take off your shirt and I’ll help apply it to your back and shoulders.”

Player stared at the cream, and was desperate for a little relief from the agony of his sunburn. Pulling his t-shirt over his head, he saw Viktor wince at the sight of the blisters. He opened the jar, and the strong smell of chemicals filled the air as he scooped out a generous handful. He smeared it across Player’s back and shoulders and then placed the jar into his hands.

“Don’t rub the cream in, leave it to sit on your skin as a thick paste,” he instructed, “I trust you can apply the cream to the rest of your body by yourself?”

Player flushed, and nodded. “Yes,” he said in a small voice.

“I really should put those chains on you, little Matteo, but they would hurt your burns a lot. Just this once I will show mercy and not shackle you.”

Player shot a frightened glance to the chains and hurriedly nodded.

“If you do something like this again, I’ll have no choice but to use them, is this clear?”

Player gave another nod. Viktor nodded and then ruffled Player’s hair with a sad sort of smile. 

“If anyone asks you, tell them I gave you a beating,” he instructed.

For a third time, Player nodded.

“I’ll return shortly to check on you,” Viktor promised, turning for the door.

Player watched him leave and then heard the lock click shut. As he applied the cream to his chest and stomach, Player felt like a complete failure. He’d accomplished absolutely nothing. He gave another glance to the chains and shuddered at the thought of having to wear them. He couldn’t do anything stupid like this again or he could get himself killed. 

Player had no choice but to depend on Team Red to save him.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**August 7th**

Neal stared out the motel window, a troubled look on his face. It had only been a week since Dash left the team, but he couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that something was wrong. The team felt the fact that Dash was gone, and it left a rather somber mood. It was quiet without him there, too quiet for Neal’s tastes, and he didn’t like it. 

Steve clearly missed Dash, and he stayed curled up on Dash’s spot on the bed as if waiting for him to return. It was actually a bit sad, and Neal tried to make friends with the cat, but Steve made it incredibly clear that his attention was unwelcome. Neal glanced down at the scratch across his arm, and shook his head in amusement. Go figure that Dash would have found a cat with the exact same personality as him. 

“Are you okay, Neal?” Crackle asked, approaching to stand next to him.

“I was just thinking about how quiet it’s been lately.” 

Crackle’s gaze shifted over to Dash’s empty spot, and he gave a slow nod. “It is a lot quieter without the two of you always bickering,” he acknowledged.

“Dash didn’t want to work for Cleo any more, he **wanted** to be an operative. How can they force him to go back to being just a pretty accessory? How could they do that to him?”

“I’m sure V.I.L.E has their reasons, Neal,” Crackle replied, feeling the need to defend his superiors.

He had called Dr. Bellum immediately after Dash had been taken, but it was obvious she didn’t care. She’d dismissed his concerns, refused his request to return Dash, and then scolded him for wasting her time.

“They tore apart our team for absolutely no reason,” Neal challenged, turning a glare on Crackle, “Cleo could have chosen absolutely **any** pretty guy to be her assistant, she didn’t need Dash. Dash wanted to fight, he wanted to go on missions.”

Crackle crossed his arms loosely and frowned. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

Neal narrowed his eyes. “I have no doubt he’s physically fine, but is he happy? You heard the stories he told about how wretched Cleo is to work for. He didn’t want to return to her.”

Crackle averted his eyes. “There’s nothing I can do about it, Neal, Dash is gone. We’ll just have to get used to not having him around.”

Neal went silent, but it was obvious he was still agitated. Crackle continued standing by his side, simply watching the other man’s face as various emotions crossed it. Finally Neal glanced back to him with a frown.

“Our team feels broken now, Graham.”

Crackle felt those words like a slap, and his eyes went back to Dash’s empty spot. “...it does,” he agreed.

“You hated Dash,” Paper Star suddenly said from across the room.

They glanced over at her, and saw her expression was somewhat puzzled. 

“I didn’t hate him,” Neal responded with a shrug, “I can’t really think of **anyone** I hate to be honest.”

“All you did was fight, why would you care whether he’s gone?” she asked.

“We’ve all been together for a couple months now, love, aren’t you even the slightest bit attached to us?”

“No.”

Everyone turned to stare at her when she said that, and Neal gave her a smirk. “I think you **do** like us, but you’re just not admitting it.”

Paper Star cocked her head. “No, I don’t care about anyone,” she responded, expression as blank as ever. “I’m only here, because I was made to join this team in an attempt to control me. The head faculty thought I was killing too many people.”

“It’s okay to get attached to your teammates, love, we do spend a lot of time together. It’s only natural.”

Paper Star simply shook her head. “No, I really feel nothing for any of you.”

The others stared at her in surprise, but had no response to that. Crackle frowned at her for a long moment and then let out a resigned sigh.

“Let’s go for an afternoon patrol,” he suggested, “There’s no point in us just sitting around the motel moping all day. We should at least do something constructive.”

“Carmen Sandiego is dead,” Otterman stated, crossing his arms.

The atmosphere in the room became heavy, and no one said a word. They’d all been thinking it, but none had voiced it out loud. Crackle grimaced, knowing it was probably true, but he still turned towards the door.

“Come on,” he ordered, “We’ll do a quick circle of the neighbourhood, and then come back.”

The others all exchanged looks, but they said nothing as they got up to do as they were told. Everyone followed behind Crackle silently, and they didn’t so much patrol as just go for a walk through the park as a group. Double Trouble chatted with Moose Boy quietly as they walked, but the overall mood was pretty lousy.

“Perhaps we could go to Kazakhstan to see if we can find Team Red?” Otterman suggested, falling in step beside Crackle. “At least we’d be able find out where the tracker is.”

“I already asked for permission to leave San Diego and the request was denied,” Crackle said with a frown, “I think the faculty are planning something, but they’re not sharing their plans with me.”

Otterman frowned, and then reached up to adjust his glasses. “I tried doing a little poking around online, and I’m not seeing any mention of Team Red. I could see hints of Team Red’s computer guy a few weeks back when he hacked into sensitive information from the Russian government, but after the shooting, he went silent. He seemed to have been doing a lot of investigations into Russia, but I’m not sure why.”

“Everything always seems to point back to Russia,” Neal said thoughtfully, “I know V.I.L.E has a ‘secret’ compound there that they think no one knows about, but I don’t actually know what they do there.”

“Well, we know there was some sort of battle,” Otterman replied.

Crackle cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“Almost everyone in our graduating year was killed during that fight, and the whole thing was incredibly hush hush,” Otterman explained. 

Neal nodded his agreement. “That was about ten years ago, wasn’t it?”

Otterman nodded. “That was the same time my eyes were damaged in that accident.”

“That was no accident!” Moose Boy suddenly said angrily. 

Otterman hesitated, and he gave Crackle an uncertain look. “No...I suppose it wasn’t.”

Neal frowned in concern. “What do you mean it wasn’t an accident? You’ve always told everyone that one of Bellum’s inventions malfunctioned!”

Otterman averted his gaze, and Neal placed a hand on his shoulder.

“What aren’t you telling us? What happened that day ten years ago?”

Otterman flashed a look towards Crackle, and Neal instantly understood.

“You can trust him, love, you can trust **all** of us! We won’t tattle on you, I promise!”

Crackle considered Neal’s words and then nodded his agreement. “I won’t repeat anything you say to me,” he promised.

Otterman shot an uncertain look towards Moose Boy who gave him an encouraging nod.

“Well, when we first became operatives, Henrik and I were good at our jobs; **really** good. Dr. Bellum sent us on a pretty standard mission to destroy all electrical devices within a compound located in Botswana. We were to place the device in a specific room and then activate it, and leave before it activated.”

“And?” Neal prompted, “What happened?”

“We went to the room we were supposed to and instead of computers, we found a man. He was middle-aged, Russian and very full of himself. When he saw the device, he snatched it from my hand, saying he’d been waiting for a communication device to be sent from Bellum. He activated it, and instead of the electrical pulse it was supposed to do, it was a weapon of some sort. Hundreds of lasers burst out of the device and killed the man instantly. The lasers bounced off the walls around us and I got struck in the eyes.”

Everyone was completely silent as they listened to this, and even Paper Star seemed surprised.

“We were meant to die on that mission,” Otterman said, clenching his hands tightly. “Whoever that man was that we killed, V.I.L.E wanted no one to know about it. We only survived because of Henrik’s fast reflexes, but I was nearly blinded. We pretended to believe the device malfunctioned, and we were allowed to live. We never did find out who the man was.”

Neal frowned and scratched at his chin thoughtfully. “Something suspicious has definitely been happening in Russia. I remember Dash told me that he’d been sent to Northern Russia five years ago and his group was attacked. He’d been forced to kill to survive, and he was the only one to make it out alive.”

“Hundreds of operatives have died in Russia,” Paper Star stated. “This is why there are so few left worldwide right now. V.I.L.E still hasn’t recovered from the losses.”

“The V.I.L.E compound in Russia is a lab,” Crackle explained, “I spent a very short time there before Dr. Bellum brought me to her lab.”

“A lab?!” Neal repeated, “Why have hundreds of operatives died over a **lab**?”

“The Russian man we met in Botswana said he was with an organization called Volkov,” Otterman said, “He was working with V.I.L.E at the time, but he was clearly betrayed.”

Neal looked a bit taken aback. “Volkov...that sounds really familiar to me somehow…”

“I’ve heard Dr. Bellum say the word a few times, but I don’t know what it means.” Crackle said, getting a really bad feeling about all of this.

“Why was Team Red investigating the lab?” Neal asked, “What are they doing up there?”

Crackle shrugged. “I have no idea,” he replied, “That is the lab Dr. Vesalius operates at.”

Otterman’s eyes widened. “So...Team Red was investigating Dr. Vess’ lab, and then it just happens to be Dr. Vess who shoots Carmen?”

Crackle stopped walking.

“What is it they’re hiding that’s worth killing so many operatives over?” Otterman asked.

Crackle had no answer, but suddenly everything seemed to be connecting.

“Maybe they’re the reason your brain is so messed up?” Theodore suggested, “Maybe they did something bad to you?”

Crackle raised a hand to his head, knowing his memory problems were caused by V.I.L.E. Dr. Bellum had ordered him to not fight the fog, but he couldn’t seem to stop, just wanting to know. 

“Maybe Carmen Sandiego was taken by Vess back to Russia?” Roosevelt suggested.

“Hmm, I wouldn’t put it past Vess to kidnap someone…” Neal said thoughtfully.

“If she’s in Russia, then V.I.L.E must already know about it,” Otterman pointed out, “Why would they keep that a secret?”

“It doesn’t make sense…” Crackle acknowledged, “...unless they’re doing something they don’t want regular operatives knowing about…”

Everyone fell silent and exchanged a long look. 

“Should...should we investigate Russia?” Neal asked hesitantly.

Crackle immediately shook his head. “No, if V.I.L.E doesn't want us to know, then we shouldn’t pry into things. If Carmen has indeed been captured, then it’s of no concern to us.”

“Uhh, wombat?” Neal said with a frown, “Our whole job was to take down Carmen… If they have her in Russia, then what’s the point of our team?”

Crackle went silent again. He stood there, simply looking lost and troubled for several long moments, and then he turned away. “Let’s just get back to the motel.”

Everyone gave him murmurs of agreement and they walked along in silence, every single one of them lost in thought. When they made it back to the motel, they saw their motel door was wide open.

“Someone robbed us?!” Roosevelt said in alarm.

“What in bloody hell?” Crackle exclaimed, drawing his crackle rod, and stalking towards the door.

The others followed after him, expecting a fight. When they stepped into the motel, they were met with the sight of the Cleaners and a tall dark-haired man with a clipboard stripping the room bare of absolutely everything.

The man looked up at them, and then gave Crackle a nod. “Team Crackle is now disbanded,” he informed them, his tone crisp and business-like.

“What?” Crackle demanded, “Who are **you**?”

“I am the executive assistant to Professor Maelstrom,” the man replied, “My name is Mal Evolence.”

Neal snorted in amusement at the name, and the man narrowed his eyes in disapproval at him.

“We have collected your belongings, and you’re to get in the car immediately to be taken to the airport,” Mal told them, “Effective immediately this team no longer exists.”

Everyone looked at each other somewhat helplessly, and Crackle crossed his arms. 

“Where are we going?” he demanded.

“Crackle is to return to New V.I.L.E Island, Neal the Eel is to be stationed in New Zealand, Double Trouble are being stationed in England, and Paper Star is being stationed in Japan.”

Neal let out a gasp. “You can’t send Paper Star to Japan, there are people there who would kill her the second she gets off the plane!”

Mal gave a shrug. “Not my problem, I have my orders.”

“What use is she dead to V.I.L.E?” Crackle demanded, stepping protectively in front of Paper Star. “There’s been a mistake.”

Mal glanced down at the paperwork in his hand and then he shook his head. “No mistake.”

“No, they can’t send her there!” Roosevelt insisted, “We’ll go instead and she can go to England!”

Mal shook his head. “Those are not my orders. If you continue to argue, then I will have to report this as disobedience to the faculty.”

Everyone looked to Paper Star who was standing very stiff and straight, her expression revealing nothing.

“I’ll speak with Dr. Bellum,” Crackle promised her.

“What about us?” Otterman asked, “Where have we been reassigned?”

Mal glanced down at his clipboard with a frown. “Nope, nothing at all about you. Looks like you’re remaining in San Diego for now.”

“What? Why?” Otterman demanded, “What are we supposed to do here?”

“I really don’t care, and I doubt the faculty do either,” Mal responded rudely.

“So we have no mission at all?!” Otterman asked in disbelief.

“It appears so,” Mal answered, glancing through his paperwork.

Without saying a single word, Paper Star suddenly turned towards the door, and Mal’s attention was instantly on her.

“Where do you think **you’re** going?” Mal demanded, narrowing his eyes. “You have to stay here until it’s time to leave!”

Paper Star didn’t answer, and left the room, expression still suspiciously blank. Mal let out a frustrated sigh, and walked after her, clearly not in the mood to deal with this.

“Stop walking away from me, Paper Star,” Mal ordered, “Get back here!”

Other than her shoulders stiffening, she gave no indication she heard, heading across the parking lot away from the motel.

Mal let out a muttered curse and then stomped after her. “Get in the car, right **now,** or I am going to get the Cleaners to restrain you! You have no choice in your assignment! Stop being difficult, and don’t make me complain about you! You will obey the head faculty, and do as you’re told!”

Paper Star didn’t stop walking away from him and so he reached out and caught her by the wrist.

“Get in the ca-”

Mal didn’t get a chance to finish that sentence because he suddenly found a paper star buried deep into his skull. His mouth opened and closed a few times in surprise, his hands fumbled a bit like he was reaching for the star, but then he fell backwards onto the pavement, dead before he hit the ground. Paper Star stared down at him coldly and then rubbed her wrist where he’d grabbed her.

Everyone stared in shock at the dead operative, watching as the blood began pooling under him. Suddenly Paper Star let out an exclamation of surprise and clapped a hand to her throat. She pulled a tiny dart out of her skin and stared at it, and then folded a star, turning murderous eyes to the Cleaners. She staggered a few steps as she took aim, threw the star, missed by about ten feet, and then fell to the ground. She blinked a few times, her eyes glazed, and the Cleaners approached her without saying a word. 

“What are you going to do?” Crackle demanded, “What is going to happen to her?”

The Cleaners said nothing and simply bound Paper Star and then carried her to the nearby van. Paper Star’s gaze was on Crackle, and for just a moment a look of deep sadness entered her eyes. She then closed her eyes, and went limp in the Cleaner’s hold. They buckled her into one of the seats and then turned to deal with the body.

Team Crackle looked at one another in silence, realizing this could be the last time they saw each other. Crackle reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He handed Otterman all the cash he had, and the others quickly did the same.

“Will you take care of Steve for us?” Crackle asked, shooting a glance towards the motel room.

Otterman pocketed the wads of cash and nodded. “We’ll take good care of him,” he promised solemnly. 

Crackle clapped him on the shoulder, expression somewhat distressed. “Thank you.”

As Otterman and Moose Boy headed for the motel room to locate Steve, everyone else crawled into the van with Paper Star. The Cleaners were used to disposing of bodies and messes, and after a few minutes, they were done hiding the evidence and got into the van. As they began driving, there was complete silence in the van. The whole drive to the airport was a solemn affair, and they knew they would now be separated onto separate planes.

As they grabbed their bags out of the van, no one knew what to say. Neal threw his arms around Crackle in a bone-crushing hug, and then did the same to the twins. Theodore ruffled Neal’s hair, and then they went their separate ways.

Team Crackle was no more.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**August 7th**

Siren eyed the absolutely enormous box that one of the guards dragged into the lab, and Vess looked up from what he was doing with a frown.

“What’s that?” he demanded, “I don’t remember ordering any new equipment.”

The guard was breathing hard from the weight of the box and he took a second to respond. “Something for Siren,” he replied.

Vess stared at the massive box with raised brows, and then glanced over at Siren. “What did you order?!” he demanded in disbelief.

Siren gave a shrug. “Dunno, don’t remember,” he responded evasively.

“You know I have to inspect everything you purchase,” Vess reminded him.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

As the guard left the room, Vess got up from his desk and approached the box. Pulling out a letter opener, he sliced through the tape, and then opened the box. He then stared inside at the dozens upon dozens of seemingly random items. Reaching in, he pulled something out and then gave it a suspicious look.

“A fitbit?” he said skeptically, “You bought a fitbit?!”

Siren gave him another shrug. “Gotta get in those 10,000 steps. You’re the one who keeps trying to get me to go to the gym.”

Vess frowned at him. “You’re actually going to exercise?” he demanded, not believing it for a second.

“I might,” Siren replied, knowing hell would freeze over before he ever stepped foot into a gym.

Vess pulled out the next object. “A 25,000 piece jigsaw puzzle of a unicorn?”

“I get bored in my free time.”

Vess pulled out the next item. “Glow-in-the-dark ghostbuster tube socks?”

He grabbed another item without waiting for a response.

“A ten pound bag of sour candies? A 50-pack of National Geographic? A calendar of elephants? An ant farm?! No, you are **not** releasing thousands of ants into this lab. This one is being confiscated.”

Siren rolled his eyes but didn’t comment.

“Cherry Dr. Pepper chapstick. Peanutbutter Oreos. A Yo-yo that screams. Ghost Pepper potato chips. An Airzooka? What’s an Airzooka?”

“Something people use to clean dust out of corners,” Siren answered innocently.

Vess looked over the plastic object, but it didn’t seem dangerous and so he set it aside.

“10,000 live ladybugs? Those are confiscated as well. Emu jerky. Dill pickle bubble gum. Five identical WWJD t-shirts. Bootlaces. Headphones. A mug with breasts. A box of 500 clothespins. A skein of yarn.”

Vess then let out an exasperated sigh, and glanced inside the massive box briefly, didn’t see anything else that seemed to be contraband, and so he tossed everything back into the box.

“Oh, I don’t even fucking care,” he muttered to himself, “Just take it. I don't have time for this. Why did you order so much garbage?”

Siren shrugged once again. “I was bored.”

“Get this box out of my lab,” Vess ordered, heading back for his desk.

Siren set down his pen and then got up to approach the box. Knowing there was absolutely no way he was going to be able to lift it, he began pushing it in the direction of the door. Vess watched him in silence for a few seconds and then rolled his eyes when it became clear Siren wasn’t going to ask for help.

“Braxton, carry that box for Siren before he ruptures a disc or something,” he ordered.

“Yes, Sir,” Braxton responded, reaching down and easily hefting up the heavy box.

Siren gave Braxton a nasty look and didn’t say a word as he left the lab, the guard following at his heels. They walked in complete silence, and once they made it to Siren’s room, Braxton tossed the box carelessly into the room.

“Hey, watch it!” Siren snapped, “Those are all extremely valuable items!”

“The box has been delivered, and so now back to the lab,” Braxton ordered, giving Siren a shove to get him moving.

“I want to put my stuff away!” he protested.

“Do it in your free time,” Braxton responded, shoving him again. “You’re scheduled to be working right now.”

Siren knew any further arguments would end with him getting hit, and so he turned and walked away without another word. Braxton followed behind him like a threatening shadow, and Siren felt his hate only grow with every step they took. Today was the day. Today he would be rid of Braxton forever. When he re-entered the lab, he saw Michael was once again bothering Vess. Perfect.

“Do you want to play PS4, MJ?” Siren asked before he’d even fully entered the room.

Michael turned and stared at him in confusion. “No, I’m here to get Numa to take a lunchbreak with me,” he answered, “Besides, you’re a fucking cheat at games.”

“Just because you suck, doesn’t mean I’m a cheat,” Siren replied.

Michael puffed up angrily. “You kept shooting me when I was on your team!” he bellowed, “You were literally helping the other team kill me!”

Siren gave him a shrug.

“Well, I’m not playing with you again, you cheating crybaby. I’m going to lunch with Numa!”

“And I told you I’m too busy,” Vess replied.

“You always say that,” Michael pointed out.

“Yes, and I’m **always** too busy,” Vess answered impatiently, “Go hang around Siren if you’re bored. He hasn’t been doing anything productive anyway.”

Michael frowned. “No, I want to spend time with **you**, not captain dickless!”

“Tough,” Vess said, not looking up.

“MJ?” Siren interrupted.

Michael turned a glare towards him. “What?” he snapped.

“I think you **do** want to play PS4,” Siren said, as he mimed smoking a joint. 

Michael stared at him in confusion for a few seconds before realization crossed his face. “Oh...yeah. Okay…”

Vess glanced up and looked between Michael and Siren suspiciously, knowing they were up to something.

“Braxton, go with them and keep an eye on things,” Vess ordered.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Aw, i don’t want this creep in our apartment!” Michael protested.

“Tough,” Vess said for the second time.

“It’s fine,” Siren told him, “We’ll just ignore him. I have some snacks in my room I can bring.”

Michael glared at Braxton, but then nodded. “No cheating this time. Play the game right.”

Siren rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

As they left the lab, Siren could sense Braxton’s annoyance, but he did his best to ignore it, knowing soon the other man would be gone forever. Braxton stayed out in the hall as he and Michael entered his room to grab snacks.

“You got the weed?” Michael whispered, glancing towards the door.

“Not yet, but I will today,” Siren promised, “As soon as I can slip away from Braxton, I’ll get it.”

Michael seemed annoyed, and Siren backed up a step in case he lashed out. Michael then glanced around the very small room and frowned.

“Geez, who’d you piss off to get such a shitty room?”

“I’ve always had this room,” Siren replied with a shrug, reaching to dig through the box of amazon items.

Pulling out the oreos, jerky and chips, he shoved them into Michael’s hands, pocketed the laxatives, and then grabbed the massive Lego set. Michael stared in bewilderment at the box, and Siren gave him a shrug.

“Part of the plan,” he explained, “Long story.”

“This better end with me getting my weed back or I’m going to shove every single piece of that Lego-set up your ass until you’re coughing up Lego dogs.”

Siren raised a brow. “Lego dogs? Is that what you used to build when you were a kid?”

Michael flushed. “Lego is hard!” he defended. “All I could build were dogs!”

“For you, **everything** is hard,” Siren muttered, turning towards the door.

Michael scowled angrily, and shoved him into the door hard, and Braxton opened the door to see Siren clutching a bloody nose. Without even asking what had happened, he raised his baton and began bringing it down hard across Michael’s back and shoulders. Michael screamed and lashed out at the other man, but Braxton was stronger and couldn’t be stopped. Siren grabbed Braxton’s sleeve, and to his surprise, Braxton actually paused to look down at him.

“Michael didn’t do it!” Siren lied, “I tripped and hit my face on the door! He had nothing to do with it!”

Braxton narrowed his eyes, but did reluctantly lower his baton. Michael was cursing up a storm, and Siren knew things were about to escalate, and so he grabbed Michael by the elbow and then pulled him towards the door. Michael allowed himself to be pulled, looking angry enough to murder.

“Today?” he snapped.

Siren nodded.

“Forever, right?”

Another nod.

“Good.”

Braxton kept his baton out, and Siren had a feeling he was just **waiting** for an opportunity to use it. Surprisingly enough, Braxton didn’t question the massive box of Legos, and a few minutes later they made it to Vess’ quarters. Braxton took up position near the door, and Siren and Michael headed for the couch to pretend they were going to game.

“I’m going to put on Minecraft so you can’t cheat,” Michael informed him, tossing him a controller.

“I’ve never played Minecraft, but I know what it is,” Siren replied.

Michael squinted at him. “How have you never played Minecraft?” he demanded, “You’re my age, aren’t you?”

Siren knew he looked a lot younger than he was, and so he said nothing, simply powering on his controller. They played in silence for a few minutes before Michael glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

“When?” he demanded, ripping open the oreos.

“Very soon,” Siren promised.

An hour later, Braxton shifted a bit and then started glancing around.

“Bathroom is to your right,” Siren called over his shoulder.

Braxton glowered at him, but did head to the right for the bathroom. As soon as the door clicked shut, Siren grabbed the Lego set and turned to Michael. “He’s going to beat me for this, and so you’d better keep up your end of the bargain!”

“I want that asshole **dead**,” Michael hissed, “I’ll help you, just get me my weed.”

Siren nodded, and ran for the door, knowing he would only have a minute head start before Braxton was after him. Once out in the hall, he ran for it as fast as he could, just trying to put as much distance between them as possible. He plowed past a group of guards and didn’t even slow down when one of them yelled after him.

Wishing he was in better shape, he kept running, taking the stairs down one floor to where the special patients were kept. Stopping at room B1-12, he stared at the metal plate fastened to the door. It had the two letters D.D engraved onto it, and he turned his attention to the lock. Having no idea if he was authorized to open these doors, he placed his hand against the reader. To his surprise, the lock clicked open and the lights next to the lock turned green.

Siren pulled open the door and slipped inside, closing the door after him. At first it seemed like the room was empty, but then he saw a foot underneath the bed.

“Creepy little girl?” he called out.

The foot disappeared and a moment later, DD peered out at him, expression wary. When she saw who it was, she scrambled out with a hesitant smile.

“Siren, you came back!” she whispered. 

Siren stared at the little girl and saw she did not look well at all. Dark circles were under her eyes, and there were bruises all along her arms. Frowning, he reached out a hand and gently took her arm and turned it over so he could see the bruises. He saw the unmistakable marks caused by injections, and he thought of the little red-haired boy who used to always be covered in similar injuries.

Siren’s hand went to his own arm that was also covered in scars from repeated injections, and he grimaced. DD stared at him, her eyes far too intelligent for her age, and reached out a hand towards his arm, clearly understanding his actions. Siren flinched away from her, and she pulled her hand back slowly, expression still concerned.

“You look sick,” Siren commented, looking away from her.

“So do you,” she responded worriedly, “You’re skinny and tired looking. You need to eat more, and maybe take a nap.”

“Mind your own business, you creepy brat,” he snapped defensively, “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

DD stared at him for a long time, and then decided to change the subject.

“Where were you?” she demanded, placing her hands on her hips. “You were gone a **long** time!”

“I was getting your stupid toy!” Siren snapped, narrowing his eyes. “You have no idea how hard it was to get this to you!”

“Is that my toy?” DD asked, pointing at the box.

“Yes, it’s a damn toy,” Siren replied, turning it so she could see.

Her eyes got impossibly wide. “I’ve never seen a toy that looks like this!” she exclaimed, “What do I do?”

Siren set the box on the floor and then began prying the tape off. DD hovered right by his elbow watching, and when he opened the box, she deflated in disappointment.

“Oh,” she said sadly.

“What is it?” Siren demanded, “You don’t like it?”

“I love it, really...it’s just...um...well, it’s broken. Did you get mad and throw it?”

Siren blinked in surprise. “What? No! It’s **supposed** to be like that!”

DD cocked her head and reached for a piece of Lego. “But...what do I do?” she asked.

Siren tossed the instruction booklet at her. “You put the pieces together to build the ship,” he responded.

DD opened the booklet and stared at the words within. “I can’t read yet…”

“Not my problem,” Siren responded, “Now tell me where I left my stuff.”

DD nodded and then crawled back under her bed. Siren got down and peered under to watch her, and DD pointed to a section of the wall.

“Here!” she instructed.

Siren crawled under the bed, and stared at the place she was pointing, realizing someone had cut a section of it out and replaced it. Had he done that? He had no memory of this. Using his fingernails, he pulled one of the tiles out of the wall, and saw there was a small empty space behind it. The bag of weed was there as well as the lighter, paper, wallet, and a long and sharp knife. Had he put that there?! Where did he get a knife?! Taking everything out, he crawled back out from under the bed and pocketed everything. There was no way he was leaving a knife in a room with a small child.

“Thanks,” Siren said, turning to leave.

DD caught him by the sleeve, and he paused.

“Do you want to play with me, Siren?” she asked uncertainly, “Will you show me how to put the pieces together?”

Siren jerked his sleeve out of her grip, and rolled his eyes. “No.”

DD seemed to shrink, and she nodded. “Oh...okay,” she said quietly.

Siren frowned down at her, having no idea why he suddenly felt guilty. He hadn’t even done anything! Siren glanced towards the door and knew Braxton would have already discovered he was missing, and was probably searching the whole building for him. Not especially looking forward to another beating, he let out a deep and over-dramatic sigh and then took a seat on the floor across from her.

“Let me see those instructions.”

DD smiled and eagerly handed him the instructions. Siren flipped through them once, memorized them and then reached for the first piece.

“So, with Legos you can either build what’s shown on the box or you can build something else,” he explained, “This is the first piece we need if we build the pirate ship!”

DD bounced on her knees excitedly. “Yes, yes, let’s build the ship!”

Siren and DD spent the next hour or so building the ship, DD relaxing the more she got into building. Siren recognized the same fear she displayed that the little red-headed boy had also displayed. What was that boy’s name? Siren struggled to remember, but his memories were still somewhat jumbled. That boy had been older than DD and had endured many more years of the abuse and experiments. It had taken a long time to gain his trust.

Siren stared at DD as she smiled and put a piece in the incorrect spot, and he knew nothing but pain and death waited for this child. Dozens of children had died during the first experiments, and already DD was looking weak and sick. Correcting the piece's location, he sighed, knowing there was nothing he could do.

Siren would never admit he was enjoying bossing her around as they built the ship, and was snarky and rude every time she did something wrong. DD didn’t seem bothered at all by his tone, and was clearly having fun, even if she didn’t fully understand what they were doing.

Suddenly the door beeped, and began to open, and Siren quickly rolled under the bed out of sight. There was the sound of heavy boots entering the room and then Braxton’s voice spoke up.

“Clear!” he called out loudly.

A moment later the footsteps disappeared, and the door closed. Siren waited a few moments, and then DD peered under the bed at him.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she stated knowingly, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell on you. You’re my friend, and friends don’t tattle.”

Siren peeked out from under the bed and when he saw it was safe, he crawled out. “I need to go,” he told her, “Keep the Legos hidden underneath your bed so they don’t try to take it from you.”

DD frowned. “You’re leaving?”

Siren nodded. “I can’t get caught in here,” he explained, giving a quick glance towards the door.

“But we didn’t finish the ship!”

“Finish it yourself!” Siren snapped.

DD crossed her arms and gave him a scolding look. Siren let out a sigh, and then stared down at the half-finished ship.

“I’ll try to come back another day,” he promised.

DD smiled up at him. “Really?”

Siren nodded, and to his shock and disgust DD launched herself at him and hugged him tight. Whenever people made physical contact with him, it was always to hurt him, and he couldn’t stop the instinctive gasp of fear that escaped him. Siren tensed up, expecting pain at any moment, but when there was none, he relaxed and frowned down at her.

“Get off me, you creepy little gremlin!” he complained.

DD looked up at him, her dark eyes clearly amused. “Goodbye, Siren!” she said, finally releasing him.

Siren made a big show of dusting himself off, and then turned towards the door. “Goodbye, Deedee,” he said, pressing his hand to the keypad. 

The door clicked open, and he peered out into the hallway but didn’t see any signs of Braxton. Stepping out of the room, he took off running, heading for the stairs, hoping Braxton had gone the other way. Taking the stairs two at a time, he made it to the main floor, and then ran in the direction of Vess’ quarters. Once again out of breath, he burst into the apartment, and Michael glanced up and paused his game.

“Braxton’s pissed at you,” he commented, clearly not caring.

“I bet,” Siren agreed, approaching the couch. 

Flopping down beside Michael, he reached over and grabbed the nearby can of Pepsi and took a large gulp.

“Ugh, that was **mine**!” Michael protested, giving him a dirty look. 

“I’ll buy you another damn Pepsi,” Siren muttered, sagging in exhaustion. 

“Did you get my weed?”

Siren rolled his eyes and then reached into his pocket. He tossed the bag, lighter wallet, and papers at Michael who was instantly all smiles.

“Yes!” he exclaimed, wasting no time in rolling himself a joint.

“Don’t forget our deal,” Siren reminded him.

Michael sighed and then stuck the joint behind his ear instead of lighting it. “Yeah, yeah, so what do you need me to do?”

“While Braxton is busy beating me, slip this in his gatorade.” Siren ordered, handing over the bottle of laxative.

Michael stared at the bottle and then grimaced. “Ew, no way! He is **not** having volcano-butt in my bathroom! I live here, dumbass!”

“You’d rather Braxton stay around forever?” Siren challenged.

Suddenly Michael’s phone began ringing, and the boy pulled it out of his pocket. “It’s Numa,” he stated.

“Don’t you dare tell him about any of this!” Siren hissed.

Michael kicked him, and then answered the phone. “ ‘lo?”

“Michael, where are you?” Vess demanded, his voice sounding concerned.

“I’m playing my PS4,” he replied, “Why?”

“Siren went missing, and Braxton is unable to find him anywhere,” Vess explained, “We have to presume he’s in a bad mental state and dangerous. Go lock the door and do **not** leave, do you understand?”

Michael frowned at him. “What are you talking about? Siren’s right here.”

Vess blinked in surprise. “What?”

Michael turned the com so Vess could see Siren sitting beside him. Siren waved and Vess narrowed his eyes.

“Hand Siren your phone,” he ordered.

Siren took the phone and Vess stared at him angrily.

“Where have you been?” he demanded, “I just received reports that you went missing!”

“I’ve been right here with MJ,” Siren responded with a shrug. “Braxton’s been acting really odd today though. I think he may have mixed cocaine with liquor. He’s been ranting and pacing around a bit erratically.”

Vess sighed. “Siren, where were you?”

“Right here,” Siren repeated, taking another swig of Michael’s Pepsi.

“We will discuss this later,” Vess promised, “Do **not** move from that spot. I’m going to let Braxton know where you are.” 

“He’s dangerous, Numa,” Siren stated, “Aren’t you worried he could do something to Michael?”

It was obvious Vess didn’t believe a word he was saying, and simply sighed. “Don’t move,” he repeated.

The call then disconnected, and Siren tossed the phone back to Michael. 

“He’s gonna wreck you as soon as he gets here,” Michael stated, cracking open another Pepsi. “I’m not going to help either.”

Siren knew this was true, and didn’t see any way to avoid it. “Just make sure to pour the whole bottle in once he’s distracted.”

Michael sighed but still nodded in agreement. “Fine.”

Siren didn’t have to wait long, and within minutes the door crashed open and they both glanced over to see a frothing angry Braxton. Siren sank down lower on the couch, and Braxton crossed the room, not saying a single word. Braxton slammed his gatorade bottle down onto the coffee table and then reached for Siren.

“Erm, hi,” Siren greeted, looking up at him with innocent eyes.

Still saying nothing, Braxton grabbed a hold of him by the front of the shirt and ripped him off the couch. Braxton then carried him away from the couch to a more open area, Siren’s feet a good foot from the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Michael tampering with the gatorade, and so now he just had to make sure he was still able to walk after this beating.

As Braxton removed his baton from his belt, Siren reached a hand into his coat pocket for the knife. 

“You **never** learn!” Braxton hissed out between clenched teeth. “How many times do I have to beat you for the same thing?!”

As Braxton raised the baton over his head, Siren lashed out with the knife. He cut across Braxton’s hand and as predicted he was reflexively dropped to the ground. Scrambling away from the enormous man, Siren clenched the knife tightly, and took on a defensive pose, ready to defend himself.

“Oh, shit!” Michael called out excitedly, “Knife fight!”

Siren didn’t answer, never taking his eyes from Braxton as the man stared down at his injured hand in shock. His expression then turned absolutely murderous, and he began stalking towards Siren, baton once again raised over his head. Siren was small and skinny, but he was fast and he jumped back as Braxton took a swing at him.

“Stop!” Siren yelled out, “Just calm down for a second!”

Braxton said nothing at all, instead coming at Siren again and again. Siren remembered going through training at the academy, but hand-to-hand combat was never his strong suit. He’d passed all his classes, but Brunt only passed him because he stabbed his competitor with a pencil, not because he actually had any real skill. She stated she liked his ingenuity, and said it was a useful skill to have in the field. Siren never got to see his first mission because V.I.L.E kidnapped him before he got the chance to graduate.

Siren jumped back again, and his back hit something which fell to the floor and shattered. Not taking his eyes off Braxton, he stepped away from the broken glass on the floor, and then swung the knife at Braxton who was a bit too close for comfort. The knife didn’t make contact, but it did make Braxton take a step back.

“Stop trying to attack me like a fucking gorilla and just listen for a moment!”

“You will drop the knife, or I will **make** you drop it!” Braxton threatened.

“I will drop the knife if you just listen to me!” Siren responded, swinging out at Braxton wildly as the other man once again came too close.

“Drop the knife **now**, or I am going to double your punishment!” Braxton threatened, “You will learn to obey, Siren, and it’s your decision whether you want 20 or 40 blows.”

“Wait, you’re planning on hitting me **twenty** times?!” Siren asked in alarm.

Braxton had never hit him more than ten or twelve times previously, and the thought of twenty was horrifying.

“Soon to be forty,” Braxton stated, once again swinging at him.

Siren readjusted his grip on the knife, and knew he was screwed. Braxton outweighed him by like two hundred pounds, and there was no way he would win this fight. He doubted he could do anything after getting hit that many times, and this whole plan would have been for nothing. Siren’s mind raced, and tried to think of anything at all he could do. A hundred possible scenarios played out in his mind, very few of which played out in his favour. The only way he could see possibly getting out of this was lying, lying, and more lying. If there was one thing Siren could do, it was tell a believable lie.

“I don’t deserve to be beaten!” Siren announced, “I was only following orders!”

Braxton took a swing at him, it almost made contact and Siren ducked away.

“Calm down for just a second, and I’ll tell you what I was doing!”

“I don’t care what you were doing,” Braxton replied, “You disobey, and you get a beating. It’s as simple as that.”

“I didn’t disobey!” Siren insisted, “I received a call from the head faculty, and they assigned a mission to me.”

Braxton narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about?” he demanded.

“I’m not only a scientist, but also an operative,” Siren explained, “I attended the academy, and I was assigned here years ago. I have been working in secret for them for over a decade now!”

“Bullshit,” Braxton snarled, “I was assigned to be your prison guard because you’re a lunatic. The faculty doesn’t give a shit about you!”

Siren’s palm was sweating and he tightened his grip, eyeing the bigger man warily.

“No, it’s actually the opposite,” Siren corrected, “I’m the genius they protect at all costs because I alone know the secrets of this lab. I’m V.I.L.E’s most valuable asset, and this is why they assigned you to protect me.”

“What utter garbage,” Braxton snapped, “They would have told me this.”

“Naw man,” Michael suddenly commented from where he was watching, “The eunuch’s actually telling the truth. He was the only survivor of the original lab, and he’s the only one who knows the secrets. Numa told me that when we were in Kazakhstan.”

Braxton stared at Michael and scowled, clearly not believing it.

“The faculty contacted me about an hour ago,” Siren explained, “I had to follow orders, and I only did what I was supposed to.”

Braxton’s hand lowered a fraction, and Siren knew this was progress.

“Okay, look, how about I tell you everything that happened, and you can decide for yourself? Take a seat on the couch, and I’ll drop the knife. If you decide I still deserve it, then I will willingly submit to a beating and not give you a hard time about it.”

Braxton looked angry enough to rip off his head, and he stayed silent for nearly a full minute as he considered the request. Siren shifted during the uncomfortable silence, and when Braxton finally lowered the baton, Siren let out a breath of relief.

“Fine, but you’re not going to talk your way out of this.” Braxton said, “Now drop the knife and kick it away.”

Siren shook his head. “Not until you sit down so I know you’re not just going to grab me.”

Braxton gave him a monstrously angry look, but he did take a seat on the couch beside Michael.

“Aw, no one got stabbed,” Michael commented in disappointment.

“Drop the knife,” Braxton ordered.

Siren dropped the knife to the floor and kicked it under the couch, knowing he could get it back if he needed it.

“Alright, now talk,” Braxton ordered, reaching for his gatorade.

Siren watched the man take a large gulp and then knew he just had to buy some time. “To completely understand the situation, I need to explain my mission in full,” Siren said, cautiously taking a seat on the other side of Michael. “It all started ten years ago…”

Siren had always had a gift for lying, and he could spin a story on the spot. Even Vess, who was incredibly smart and perceptive, had a difficult time discerning when Siren was lying to him. Siren had no problem maintaining eye-contact when lying, and his tone was always steady and believable. 

Siren began telling a tale that began all the way back in the academy days about an ultra secret mission that he was personally selected for due to his eidetic memory. He described special training the head faculty had provided him, and then they sent him to the labs with one mission: discover the secret to eternal life. He described in great detail the progress the lab had been making on the subject, and how they were trying to keep this information a secret from V.I.L.E. Through careful work, he discovered the secrets, but when they realized there was a spy, they lit the entire lab on fire to destroy all evidence.

Braxton sat there through this very, **very** long explanation, sipping his gatorade, and Siren hoped the laxatives would kick in soon. Michael was staring at him in awe, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape, listening to every word he said with rapt attention.

Siren went on to explain how he was injured during the destruction of the lab, and he had trouble remembering the entire formula. Every time he remembered a bit more of the formula, he would send this information to the head faculty, and they would order him to test it out. He explained how he’d been sitting there on the couch with Michael when they called up and ordered him to once again create a new vaccine and test it out on one of the lab mice.

By this time, Braxton was starting to shift uncomfortably, and Siren knew it wouldn’t be long now. He continued to blather about the details of these missions he was sent on, and he watched as a sheen of sweat began appearing on Braxton’s face. The man’s eyes started to look a bit panicked, and **still **Siren kept talking, simply watching and waiting.

Braxton suddenly stood up. “I’ll be right back. Don’t you **dare** move!”

Braxton then ran for the bathroom as fast as he could, and Siren let out a snort.

“I didn’t know **any **of that!” Michael exclaimed in awe, “How come Numa never told me about this?”

“Because it was all bullshit,” Siren replied, standing up from the couch.

Michael’s eyes widened. “You made everything up?!”

Siren nodded. “Yep,” he replied, reaching for something on the couch.

Braxton had left behind his baton, and Siren immediately pocketed it, not wanting the other man anywhere near it. 

“So, how is this going to get rid of Braxton?” Michael demanded. “Is he going to shit himself to death?”

“Unfortunately no,” Siren replied, “There’s only one way I can see us getting rid of Braxton.”

“Oh?” Michael questioned.

“I need to go right now, but I’ll be back,” Siren promised, hurrying for the door.

Siren knew he had a good while before Braxton would be able to leave that bathroom, and so he began hurrying down the hallway. He needed to be able to make a mental map of the entire facility, and so he began opening every single door he passed, glanced inside for only a moment, and then went on to the next door. His eidetic memory was constructing the map for him as he went, and everything he saw was carefully filed away for later. 

He ignored everyone as he made his way through the building, simply opening doors without a single word. He accidentally came across a few too many people ‘secretly’ making out, but he said nothing and just kept going from room to room. The building was absolutely enormous, and after two hours, he had finally looked inside every room he had access to. 

Knowing Braxton was likely already on the warpath, Siren ran in the direction of the lab to start putting his plan into motion. When he burst into the door of the lab, Vess visibly jumped and then he glowered over at Siren angrily.

“I wish you wouldn’t enter the room like that!” he snapped, “Where is your guard?”

Perfect. Braxton hadn’t reported his disappearance for the second time.

“Numa, Braxton is out of control!”

Vess turned his attention back to his laptop. “Uh huh.”

“No, for real this time! He’s seriously messed up in the head! I really think the drugs and alcohol are making him lose his mind!”

“Siren, we’ve been over this again and again. Making up lies about Braxton is **not** going to make me fire him.”

“I’m not lying!” Siren snapped, “He just trashed your living room, and now he’s going to kill me!”

Vess sighed and didn’t comment.

“Don’t you care that he’s trying to kill me?!”

There was no response.

“Numa! He’s seriously going to kill me if he gets his hands on me! I need your help! **Please** don’t let him get me!”

Vess turned unamused eyes to him.

“Dammit, Numa! If I’m dead, you’ll never get what’s inside my head!”

Vess’ eyes widened. “What do you remember?!” he demanded in alarm.

“Are you going to help me or not?” Siren demanded.

“I’m not firing Braxton, Siren. He’s **not** going to kill you, and I’m **not** going to stop him from beating you. If you would stop disobeying him, you wouldn’t have this problem!”

“Then it’s **your** fault when he kills me,” Siren replied, leaving the lab once again.

Siren smirked to himself once he was out of sight. The seeds were now planted in Vess’ mind, and now he just had to complete his plan. Running along the hallway, he caught sight of Braxton ahead, and ducked into a room just before he was seen. Braxton charged past the room, and Siren waited a moment and then continued down the hallway, heading back to Vess’ living quarters.

Once he arrived, he opened the door, and once again Michael looked up at him, this time with a scowl. The entire apartment reeked of diarrhea and Siren gagged, and clapped a hand to his nose.

“I’m going to beat the shit out of you for this,” Michael snarled at him, “He ruined our apartment!”

“Later,” Siren told him, pulling the baton out of his pocket. “I’m about to get Braxton fired.”

“How?” Michael asked.

Without a word, Siren began smashing everything he could in the living room with the baton. Michael stared at him completely dumbfounded, and simply watched. When Siren was finally done, the living room was completely destroyed, and Siren then approached Michael. 

“Okay, now I just need you to do one thing for me,” he told him.

Michael glanced around at all the destruction around him, then looked up at Siren in question.

“What do you need me to do?”

Siren held out the baton towards him. “Beat me as hard as you can.”

Michael simply stared at him. “What?”

“Beat me **so** badly Numa can’t ignore it, and you tell him Braxton did it. Tell him Braxton went crazy, destroyed the entire room, and then he tried to kill me.”

Michael squinted at him suspiciously. “You mean I can beat you as hard as I want and you won’t tattle on me?”

Siren nodded. “Exactly.”

“For real?”

Another nod.

Michael reached out and took the baton. Siren was never very good with pain, but he was smart enough to know that one bad beating was better than months of smaller ones. Braxton had to go, and this was the only way he could think to get rid of him. Siren knew how valuable he was to V.I.L.E and if Braxton endangered his life, V.I.L.E would choose Siren over Braxton any day.

“Please don’t knock out any of my teeth,” Siren requested.

Michael got to his feet, and then stared at the baton in his hand. “You’re really serious about this?”

When Siren nodded, Michael swung the baton at him as hard as he could, landing a powerful hit to Siren’s stomach. Siren let out a cry of pain and then hit the floor.

Michael grinned down at him, a manic look entering his eyes. 

“If you really insist!” he said, bringing his arm down again and again.

Siren screamed and cried as he was beaten, but Michael didn’t stop for an instant, obviously having the time of his life. The agony was beyond anything Siren had ever felt before, and he felt his ribs snapping as Michael brought the baton down. A blow to the head made his vision blur, and he felt the warm stickiness of blood begin to pool under him. When Siren finally lost consciousness, it was to the sound of Michael’s laughter.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**The next several chapters are mostly going to focus on Team Crackle, so hopefully everyone is fine with that!**

**I'm going to do my best to get out in two weeks by the May 20th at the absolute latest. I've been working on a lot of side-fics at the same time as this one, and so that's why updates are a little slower than normal. Please forgive the delay! **

**A huge thank you to the super-talented artist who did artwork for this chapter!**

**MissingMime did the very cute pic of Player stealing the mango!**

**Credit for the names of Otterman and Moose Boy go to Animedemon01**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**

**Please don't forget to let me know what you think! **


	25. One For All, and All For One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone!
> 
> Sorry if this chapter is a bit darker than usual. This and also the next chapter will be incredibly dark.
> 
> WARNING!!!!
> 
> WARNING!!!!
> 
> READ THIS WARNING!!!!
> 
> This chapter contains reference to physical and emotional abuse, starvation, water deprivation, bulimia, and depression. If this is at all triggering for you, you may want to give this chapter a skip. Maybe next chapter too since it only gets worse. 
> 
> An enormous thank you to the very awesome Violetfic and Coulrosaurus for offering plenty of good suggestions, and for being my betas!
> 
> Please note that Dr. Vess and Michael Jr. both use the F-word extremely frequently in their everyday speech. You have been warned.
> 
> If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 25**

**One For All, and All For One**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

  
  
  


Dash wasn’t exactly expecting a welcome back party, but the second he entered Countess Cleo’s private wing, she glanced up at him from where she sat at her vanity table and rolled her eyes. 

“You are **late**, Dash Haber.”

“Apologies, Countess,” he replied, keeping his tone nothing but respectful.

He could have explained that the plane had only just arrived, but he knew she didn’t care about any of that. Cleo never accepted excuses no matter the circumstance.

“This is not a good start to your return,” she commented, “Perhaps you’ve learned bad habits from hanging around all those dirty operatives?”

“I will do better,” Dash assured her, knowing this was just a power play. “Nothing but perfection for you, Countess.”

Cleo raised a delicate brow, but could not find fault with his response. She set down her lipstick and then waved a hand towards the young man that stood at her side.

“This is Sterling Silver,” she introduced, “I will be choosing **one** of you to remain as my assistant.”

Ah. This was definitely a power play. She wanted to pit him against her newest assistant in the hopes of making him feel indebted to her when she finally chose him. Dash had no doubt in his mind that she would choose him, but he had no choice but to play her game. Cleo wanted to make a point to him, and Dash would endure it, knowing things were going to get dirty.

Dash subtly looked Sterling Silver up and down, knowing this man had been his replacement for the last month or so. The man was built like Dash, tall, and thin with long limbs; the body of a model. Dash stared at the man’s face, and he was handsome with perfect skin and perfect fluffy blond hair, and Dash was annoyed to note the man was slightly better looking than him. The man’s pale grey eyes stared at Dash with disdain, obviously knowing that Dash was a threat to his position.

“Pleased to meet you, Dash Haber,” Sterling said politely, his British accent as smooth as silk.

Dash said nothing to the other man, but he did mirror the look of disdain, knowing what was expected of him. He knew how much Cleo loved posh British accents, and wondered if the other man was actually a threat to him. Forcing his eyes away from Sterling, he turned his attention back to Cleo just as she began speaking.

“Tell me, Dash Haber, were you injured in any way while you were playing at being an operative?”

“No, Countess, other than my recent operation, I was not seriously injured in any way.”

“Ah, yes, you had your appendix removed,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Such weakness is **not** permitted within my employ, is this understood? You will get no sick days if you work for me.”

“Yes, I understand,” Dash replied, feeling resigned. Leave it to Cleo to blame him for something beyond his control.

“I suppose your operation left you scarred?”

“The wound is almost completely healed,” Dash assured her, “I’ve been told there will be no visible scar.”

Cleo seemed skeptical. “Are you lying to me, Dash Haber? I expect nothing but perfection from my assistant, and I will not allow ugly scars anywhere near me!”

“I would never lie to you, Countess,” Dash replied.

Cleo let out a scoff. “We shall see, Dash Haber. **Strip**.”

Dash hesitated, seeing by her expression she was completely serious. She was testing him, and Dash knew he had to prove his loyalty and obedience. He ignored the smirk on Sterling’s face, and Cleo narrowed her eyes at his hesitation.

“Dash Haber, I said to strip. Do **not** make me repeat myself again.”

Dash steeled himself and made sure he kept his expression completely impassive. “Yes, Countess, my apologies.”

Without a word, Dash removed his shoes, and then began carefully unbuttoning his designer coat. He folded the coat after removing it, and then began removing his shirt. He set his shirt and coat aside, and then removed his pants, still forcing his expression to remain stonily indifferent. He now stood in nothing but his underwear, and he glanced to Cleo, who once again rolled her eyes.

“Yes, that’s good enough,” she said to his relief.

Cleo got up from her seat to approach him, and Dash stood straight and tall, exuding a self-confidence he certainly didn’t feel. He could feel Sterling’s eyes on him, and when he glanced over, he saw the other man was staring, jealousy written all over his face. Dash scoffed. Although Sterling was better looking, Dash knew he was handsome and a clear threat to the other man.

Cleo began slowly circling him, looking him up and down as if appraising him, and she stared at the tiny wound which, true to his word, was almost completely healed. She touched a hand to the various bruises and scrapes caused from the fight with Neal, but none of the wounds were anything serious. None of his injuries would leave a scar.

Cleo was frowning in disapproval the entire time she circled him, and Dash was thoroughly humiliated. Nothing was ever good enough for Cleo, and he knew he was about to be criticized. He had to force himself not to cringe every time he felt her touch his skin, the unwanted contact seeming to linger long after she removed her hands. He kept his gaze straight ahead, remaining silent, and just waiting for her to be done.

Being appraised like some sort of show-pony made Dash feel ugly and worthless, but he didn’t dare protest. Every negative comment she made only made him feel worse and worse, but he gave no indication he was bothered. To Cleo, he wasn’t a person, and he knew he was only useful to her if he was the perfect accessory.

Cleo reached out and touched a hand to Dash’s side and pressed a finger against his appendectomy stitches, and despite the agony this caused, he didn’t move, keeping his eyes straight ahead. She ran her fingers along his stomach and then made a _ tsk _ noise in the back of her throat.

“You’ve put on weight, Dash Haber,” she commented in disapproval.

Dash closed his eyes. Of **course** she would have noticed the six pounds he put on.

“How much did you gain?” she demanded, narrowing her eyes.

“Three pounds,” he replied without hesitation.

Cleo reached over and grabbed him harshly by the chin, turning his face towards her.

“Do **not** take me for a fool,” she said, her tone warning.

“Three pounds,” Dash repeated, meeting her gaze directly.

Cleo let out a sigh. “Step on the scale,” she ordered, pointing across the room where there was a scale resting against the wall.

Dash winced, and Cleo lightly ran her nails across the delicate skin of his throat, knowing she had caught him in a lie.

“Do you need to be weighed, Dash Haber?” she demanded, her nails pressing hard enough to hurt, but not hard enough to cut.

Dash sucked in an alarmed breath, and then turned defeated eyes to her. “No, Countess, I don’t need to be weighed.”

“How much weight did you gain while you sneakily **gorged** yourself when you were out of my sight?”

Dash once again closed his eyes. “Six pounds,” he admitted, feeling ashamed of his body. He knew he had been eating more than he normally did, and now it had come back to bite him.

It was true that he had been lax when it came to maintaining his looks while he was part of Team Crackle, and Dash was now thoroughly humiliated as Sterling flashed him a smug look.

Cleo gave a nod. “That’s what I thought,” she replied, her tone sounding falsely sad. “You know I will **not** have a fat assistant. I expect nothing but perfection, and right now you are **not** perfect.”

“I’m sorry, Countess, I will improve.”

“You have one month to prove to me that you’re better than Sterling,” she informed him coldly, “Frankly, Dash Haber, you disgust me. I suggest you go on a diet and get some of that fat off. ”

Dash gave a nod, trying to push aside the familiar feelings of inadequacy and shame. He forced himself to stand straight and tall and Cleo again circled him, and finally she seemed satisfied.

“You may dress,” she told him, turning away. “You have a lot of work ahead of you if you wish to have any chance of gaining my favour.”

“Yes, Countess,” Dash replied as he got dressed.

Once he was fully dressed, he turned his gaze to Sterling who was staring at him with narrowed eyes, and Dash had a feeling the other man was not going to make things easy. They stared at one another for a few moments, and then Sterling offered him an easy smile that did not reach his eyes. Dash was instantly suspicious and suspected the other man was plotting something. He would have to keep a close eye on him during the next month.

“You may go for now,” Cleo told him, waving a hand towards the door. “Return to me tomorrow morning no later than five.”

“Yes, Countess,” Dash replied, obediently turning to leave.

He couldn’t wait to be out of her sight for a few minutes so he could recover from this. His stomach was in knots and he didn’t want to chance showing any sort of emotion in front of Cleo. That would be considered a sign of weakness, and she wouldn’t tolerate it.

Just as he reached for the door, Cleo called after him.

“Oh, and Dash?”

He turned back around.

“Lie to me again and you will be **severely** punished. You will get no more warnings.”

Dash simply nodded, and then left the room. Cleo wasn’t always this horrible to work with, but she was clearly trying to punish him for leaving to join Team Crackle. He knew she would make him miserable for the next month, but she’d eventually choose him in the end. He just needed to be perfect, and his life would get better. He could do that. 

Dash Haber would be perfect in every way.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Crackle stared up at the tall grey building before him, and felt a deep sense of dread. The months he spent in Bellum’s lab were like a distant nightmare, and he knew there was no escaping this. He was once again going to be faced with the crushing loneliness and pain of being experimented on. Bellum’s lab was a prison, and Crackle knew it would be an incredibly long time before he ever saw daylight. He turned his gaze up at the seemingly endless blue sky, and had no idea when he’d ever see it again. Feeling a sense of loss he couldn’t quite explain, he drank in the sight of the blue above him, memorizing what it looked like. The cold, and dark lab had no windows and he had a feeling he was going to be spending a **very** long time here. This might be the last time he saw the sky.

Dr. Bellum had blamed him personally for failing to kill Carmen Sandiego, and he was going to be punished. He had no doubt about that, and knew he probably deserved it. He had allowed his emotions to cloud his judgement, and he had chosen to save his teammates rather than kill Carmen when he had the chance.

Crackle thought of his teammates, and closed his eyes in shame as he realized he would still choose them over the mission any day. He felt responsible for them, and he hated the thought of any of them getting hurt or killed. He wasn’t quite sure when it had happened, but his loyalty had shifted from Bellum to his team. He cared about his team, and that was something that was **never** supposed to happen.

Crackle sucked in a deep breath through his nose, the smell of the hot and salty air ingraining itself into his memory. Opening his eyes, he turned his gaze out towards the ocean, taking in the sight one last time before he was thrown back into darkness.

“Crackle,” Vlad called over to him, “Come along.”

Crackle stared at the ocean for a moment longer, and then turned away, following after the Cleaners without a word. They entered the building, and Crackle stared down at the floor as they walked along, not looking forward to what was to come.

The Cleaners very rarely spoke and Crackle had always gotten an off feeling about them. Something wasn’t quite right with them, and the dead-eyed stare the two men had was unnerving and made Crackle think of sharks going in for the kill. The Cleaners never showed signs of emotion, and Bellum was always trying to get him to be more like them. They honestly made him incredibly uncomfortable, but he’d never voiced this of course. He was supposed to be a cold and emotionless killer, and to show weakness was unacceptable.

Crackle sighed and ran a hand through his hair as they walked through the long hallways leading to Bellum’s lab. He knew he had changed since leaving New V.I.L.E Island, and he doubted Bellum was going to approve of it.

When they finally reached Bellum’s lab, Crackle knocked on the door and then waited. Normally Bellum was too distracted to reply, but to his surprise she called out for him to enter. The three of them entered the lab, and Bellum was standing next to a work table fiddling with some sort of gun-like weapon. She glanced up at them and then set aside her invention.

“Welcome home, Crackle,” Bellum said, her tone not sounding especially angry.

Crackle relaxed. “Thank you, Dr. Bellum,” he responded.

Bellum turned her attention to the Cleaners, gave them a curt nod, and they turned and left without a single word.

“Come in, come in!” Bellum invited, beckoning him closer.

Crackle approached her, and she looked him up and down, expression thoughtful. “Any injuries I need to know about?” she demanded.

“Nothing serious,” Crackle assured her.

“Good, good,” she said, waving for him to follow her, “This way if you please.”

Crackle followed her into the other room of the lab and his eyes immediately fell on the isolation chamber he’d been kept in when he displeased her. He stiffened up, but Bellum pretended not to notice as she handed him a medical gown.

“Put this on,” she ordered, “I want to do a few tests on you.”

Crackle didn’t hesitate as he stripped down and put on the gown, this being a very familiar order. Bellum wasn’t paying him any attention as she gathered a few supplies together, and when he was ready, he took a seat on the nearby exam table to wait.

Bellum muttered to herself as she searched for something in particular, and when he finally turned to approach, she was holding a medical bag.

“Hold out your arm so I can draw some blood,” she ordered.

Crackle did as he was told and watched as she disinfected his arm with an alcohol wipe, and then tied a band around his arm. He winced as the needle went in and she wasn’t exactly careful as she wriggled it around a bit until it was in a vein. She drew several vials of blood and then removed the syringe and placed a bandaid over the tiny wound. She then handed him a small plastic cup.

“Urinate in this up to the line,” she ordered, turning away to carry the blood across the lab.

His face reddening a bit, Crackle waited until her back was turned and then peed in the cup as ordered, and then set it aside. He waited patiently as she ran a few tests, and she seemed satisfied with the results. She listened to his heart and then his breathing, and then looked him over for any injuries or signs of illness. He was in perfect health, and so then she took a seat and pulled out a notepad.

“I want you to tell me in as much detail as you can about your experiences in the outside world.”

“Everything?” Crackle asked in surprise.

Dr. Bellum nodded. “I need to figure out how and why you failed at your mission. I have done something wrong and I intend on correcting it.”

Crackle grimaced, knowing exactly what she meant by that. Having no choice, he began telling her about his several months as part of Team Crackle

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Within days, Dash was absolutely starving and completely exhausted, but he made sure to always keep up his appearance of complete perfection. His competitor Sterling was doing the same, the other man’s makeup and hair always flawless. Dash quickly came to realize Sterling was very different from what he was expecting. Whereas Dash’s beauty was cold and dignified, Sterling’s was soft and boyish. He moved with a grace that Dash had no hope of matching, and his voice was soft and clear. Sterling’s smile was bright and it made his grey eyes seemingly sparkle. Dash rarely smiled, and it when he did it was normally more of a disdainful sort of smile. Dash and Sterling were the yin yang of assistants, and Dash quickly felt threatened by the other man. 

He and Sterling were given the absolute worst rooms on the entire island, and Dash knew this was done on purpose. Cleo wanted them to be miserable, and she wanted them to feel indebted to her for anything she eventually gave them. They had to go all the way up to the highest tower of the building to access their rooms, and it was inconvenient and tiring to climb the 200 steps to make it there. After working an 18 hour day, that trek up the tower stairs was brutal.

Dash hated the fact his room was directly across from Sterling’s, and more often than not, they found themselves walking up and down the stairs beside each other. Dash was annoyed when he realized Sterling was in better shape than him and had an easier time with the stairs. Dash would huff and puff his way up the stairs while Sterling walked easily beside him, barely getting out of breath.

To Dash’s surprise, Sterling was actually quite talented when it came to the job. He was fast and efficient as a courier and he had a definite talent for design. Sterling’s problem however, was that his designs and taste did not align with Cleo’s. Cleo liked elegance and flashiness, whereas his designs were more subtle and practical. Cleo was incredibly nasty to him as she critiqued his work, and Dash could see how much it bothered him.

Dash’s own work was criticized as well, but it was clear Cleo preferred his designs over Sterling’s. The jealousy was evident every time they were pitted against one another, and that’s when Dash began noticing Sterling’s attempts to sabotage him.

The first time it happened, Dash discovered a tear down the side of one of the dresses he’d finished just the night before. He almost hadn’t caught it, but luckily he’d given it one last look-over as he’d gone out the door. The tear was small, and looked like sloppy work, but Dash never would have sewn something so badly. This was clearly an attempt to make him seem lazy and incompetent. He repaired the tear, and didn’t mention it, knowing Cleo wouldn’t have cared. He didn’t say a word to Sterling, but he did elbow him hard in the gut when Cleo wasn’t looking. They’d spent the rest of the day glaring at each other.

A feud was born between them from that point on, and Dash was determined to not only win, but to completely humiliate Sterling. He’d had years of experience when it came to pleasing Cleo, and so he began going above and beyond to anticipate her needs and wants before she even asked for it. Sterling had no way to do this, but Cleo still scolded him for not being more like Dash.

Sterling began attempting to make him look bad in several petty ways, but Dash was experienced enough not to fall for most of it. Sterling kept turning Dash’s alarm off sometime during the night, trying to make him late, but Dash was naturally an early riser. He was used to waking up early to tend to Cleo when she woke, and he so he always woke up with plenty of time to spare. 

Sterling also kept stealing his sewing supplies and fabric, and while it was annoying, it wasn’t the end of the world, and Dash simply altered his designs if what he needed went missing. Even when his designs were cut or damaged in some way, Dash simply repaired them without a word. Dash got his revenge in little ways, such as shoving Sterling down the last five stairs when they were heading down from their rooms. Although relatively unharmed, Sterling then had to walk all the way back up to his room to change his clothes. It had made him late, and he’d had to endure a brutal fifteen minute lecture from Cleo.

Dash had stood prim and proper, his expression smug as Sterling was raked over the coals. Dash didn’t especially care whether the other man hated him, because he only had to put up with this for a month, and then Sterling would be gone.

Cleo was doing everything in her power to make sure neither man had even the tiniest shred of happiness or accomplishment. If they did something right, she would tear them down about something different. Dash wished she would just let things go back to the way they were, and he was hating every second of this ‘competition.’ She was punishing him for daring to leave her, and he knew he would just have to endure it until she eventually forgave him.

After a while, Dash felt like he was just going through the motions, and he was honestly miserable. Everything he said and did was demeaned, and he was never good enough, never perfect enough. He went on a few missions as a courier, but most of his time was spent simply designing or shadowing Cleo around. As much as Dash loved fashion and designing, this left him feeling oddly unfulfilled as the days went on. He found himself thinking back to Team Crackle more and more often, wondering how they were doing. Were they being sent on new missions? Did they ever find out if Carmen Sandiego was alive? Was the team still together, or had it been dissolved?

The empty feeling followed him through the days, and Dash knew he should have been happy, but he wasn’t. He had lost the six pounds within a few days of starvation, but Cleo then demanded he lose an additional six pounds in retribution. Dash was tired all the time, and he soon began to wonder if he was getting ill. When he looked at himself in the mirror, his cheeks seemed sharper, and his ribs were prominent against his sunken stomach. Cleo was starving them, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

Dash was winning the ‘competition’ so far since Sterling was younger and more inexperienced. Sterling still made the occasional mistake without any interference from Dash, and it was costing him dearly. Cleo was keeping a tally of all mistakes, and Sterling had a good dozen more mistakes than he did. 

Dash was the picture of perfection, and he knew the misery would be over soon enough. The stress was getting to the both of them, and Sterling was losing weight as well. The walls were thin between their bedrooms, and Dash could hear the other man crying at night, and a knot of pity twisted in his gut. Dash knew it was because of him that Sterling had to go through this, and it was all pointless. Sterling would not be chosen in the end, and he would be sent away or reassigned.

Sterling was determined to beat Dash at all costs, and he too was starving himself to compete with Dash. Dash had caught him several times throwing up in their shared bathroom, but he never commented on it. Sterling was trying **so** hard, and it was all for nothing. Dash was always just slightly better than him at everything. Dash had been Cleo’s assistant for six years, and so he had everything down to a routine, whereas Sterling was still learning.

Cleo frequently made them stand side by side as she compared them, and she was brutal in her critiques. They were never thin enough, never pretty enough, and never good enough. Sterling was far more emotional than Dash, and several times she brought him to tears which only made her scold him even more. Cleo didn’t like any signs of emotion, and this was where Sterling kept failing at. He was standing beside Dash sobbing into his hands miserably as Cleo gave him a brutal lecture, and Dash simply stood quietly by, waiting for his instructions.

When Cleo had finally said everything she was going to, she turned to Dash and narrowed her eyes.

“Since Sterling Silver has made a mess of his makeup with his atrocious display, I will be using you for an errand, Dash.”

“Yes, countess,” Dash replied without hesitation.

“You are to go see Dr. Bellum and get the device she has created for me,” Cleo ordered, shooting Sterling another glare out of the corner of her eye. “Be fast and don’t dawdle on the way back.”

“Yes, countess,” Dash said, turning towards the door.

As Dash left the room, he heard Cleo once again begin lecturing Sterling. As he walked towards Dr. Bellum’s lab, it was nice to get a small break. Cleo had been in an especially bad mood all morning, and it had made the work-day unbearable. They were only two weeks into the ‘competition’ and he was already exhausted and more stressed than he’s ever been in his life. The new academy class was due to arrive September 1st, and Cleo was going to make her decision a week prior to that.

Dash arrived at Dr. Bellum’s lab and knocked on the door. There was no answer, and so he knocked again, much louder this time. There was still no response, and this wasn’t uncommon, and so Dash cautiously opened the door.

“Dr. Bellum?” he called into the room.

Dash peeked into the room, and saw Dr. Bellum was sitting in front of a large screen speaking with Dr. Vesalius. Dr. Vess’ gaze settled on Dash, and he narrowed his eyes.

“It looks like you have a visitor, Dr. Bellum,” he stated.

Dr. Bellum turned around, and then gave Dash a look of confusion. “Yes?” she demanded, “What do you want? I'm very busy right now! Can’t this wait?”

“Apologies, Dr. Bellum,” Dash said respectfully as he stepped fully into the room, “But Countess Cleo has requested I collect the finished device you made for her as soon as possible.”

Dr. Bellum seemed confused for a moment, but then realization crossed her face. “Ah, yes, right. I’ll give it to you in just a few moments. Stand next to the wall and wait until my call is finished.”

Dash did as he was told, and Vess stared at him for a long moment before he turned his attention back to Dr. Bellum.

[[I trust your Arabic is still good enough to continue this conversation?]] Vess asked, switching to his native tongue.

[[Yes, yes, I’m proficient in Arabic,]] Bellum responded, rolling her eyes.

[[Good, we don’t want anyone hearing anything they shouldn’t,]] Vess stated, his gaze sliding over to Dash once more.

[[Understandable,]] Bellum agreed, [[Now what was that you were saying about Siren?]]

[[The guard that was sent to us, Braxton, has been terminated.]]

Dr. Bellum frowned. [[You killed him?]]

[[What? No, I fired him,]] Vess responded, [[He nearly killed Siren, and I had to perform three separate operations to save his life. Siren is too valuable for us to lose, and I will **not** have another guard like that again. He destroyed my entire apartment, beat Siren into a bloody pulp, and you don’t even **want** to know what he did to my bathroom!]]

[[Strange, he was the best prison guard we had access to,]] Bellum commented, scratching her chin, [[He should have been able to control Siren without any issue…]]

[[Well, clearly there was an issue!]] Vess shot back, [[If Siren dies, then he takes all of the Volkov knowledge with him! This can’t be allowed to happen again!]]

[[We’ve had Siren for ten years and you've never been able to get anything out of him,]] Bellum pointed out, [[His death wouldn’t be the end of the world.]]

Vess was furious, but he held his temper in check as he answered her. [[No, the knowledge is in his mind **somewhere** , and I’ve gotten bits and pieces over the years, and I’ve **almost** figured out the formula! If I can unlock the rest of Siren’s memories, then we can begin mass trials.]]

[[Are you truly that close?]] Bellum asked eagerly, [[Should I come to the lab?]]

Vess shook his head. [[Not quite yet. Patient D.D. is still too young for me to perform many of the procedures, but she’s showing promise. I need older children, maybe around ten to twelve years old.]]

Bellum waved a hand dismissively. [[That’s easy enough. I’ll have a few dozen brought to the lab within a couple months. What will you be doing about Siren? He can’t be allowed to roam without a guard. We don’t want any more ‘incidents’ involving him.]]

[[I have brought back Siren’s previous guard Terrence. He’s lasted the longest as Siren’s guard, and he also knows how to handle Siren’s...mood swings. Siren won’t be causing us any problems for a while since he’s going to be bed-bound for some time. Terrence should be able to handle him once he finally wakes up.]]

[[If he wakes up,]] Bellum corrected.

Vess grimaced knowing how difficult his work would become if Siren died. If Siren died, then the only thing he could do was get his hands on Mime Bomb. Mime Bomb wouldn’t be able to help with formulas or vaccine creation, but he was one of the original test subjects, and he could be studied. If Vess was lucky, he’d be able to figure out the original formula by studying the eyes and brain of the mime. This was a last resort however, and he’d rather not kill the last of the Volkov experiments.

[[Siren will live,]] Vess said confidently, [[If Siren has anything, the little shit has a will to live.]]

[[Don’t all operatives?]] Bellum responded in amusement, [[We only pick the best for our academy.]]

Vess looked skeptical. [[That’s debatable,]] he responded, [[But I will keep you informed about Siren’s condition.]]

Bellum nodded. [[Forward me your latest test results as well. I’d like to go over the data.]]

Vess nodded. [[You can expect the results within the hour.]]

“Very good, Dr. Vesalius,” Bellum said, switching over to English, “I’ll speak with you during our scheduled meeting next week.”

Bellum disconnected the call, and then glanced over at Dash, who was leaning against the wall, doing his best to look bored.

“I’ll be right back,” she informed him, “I’ll go get the device Cleo wants.”

Bellum left through a side door and Dash was left behind in the lab. He took a deep breath and raised a hand to his head knowing neither Bellum nor Vess knew he was fluent in Arabic. What the **hell** was V.I.L.E up to? Kidnapped children? Child experimentation? **Dead** children? An operative named Siren who was refusing to help them? Why had he never heard of that operative? Why did that operative need a guard? Was this the same lab in Russia he was sent to several years ago? The lab he’d had to fight his way out of to survive?

Dash grimaced, and had no idea what to make of any of this. His eyes traveled around the lab, and they settled on a very familiar crackle rod resting on top of one of the tables. Was that Crackle’s? He squinted at it, and felt certain it was. It was pretty banged up like Crackle’s was, and he could faintly make out a bit of purple nail polish that Paper Star had accidentally spilled on it.

Dash gave another glance around. If the crackle rod was here, did that mean Crackle was as well? Were the rest of the team here as well?

Dash felt a feeling of loneliness come over him, and he suddenly wanted very much just to see the friendly faces of his teammates. Had they missed him at all? Otterman’s words suddenly came back to him and he frowned. **‘No one even likes you! You could just disappear and no one would even care.**’

Dash clenched his fists, knowing he hadn’t exactly been very nice to his teammates. Dash scowled down at the floor. Forget Team Crackle; he didn’t need them. He was better off on his own.

“Here you go, Dash Haber!” Bellum announced, bursting back into the room, “One scar reducer for Cleo! Let her know to start off at level one otherwise it will be extremely painful.”

Dash nodded, and accepted the pen-like device she held out. “I’ll be sure to tell her,” he promised, turning towards the door.

Dash left the lab, feeling troubled about what he had learned. V.I.L.E was up to some seriously messed up things, and he didn’t like it.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Darkness. 

Darkness, pain, and complete silence. 

Crackle was lying curled up on his side, shivering and in an unbelievable amount of pain. The metal floor was freezing cold against his naked skin, and he remained curled into the fetal position, just trying to find a little warmth. The isolation chamber made it impossible to know how much time had passed, but by his thirst and hunger he figured it was at least two days since she had fed him. He had been in the isolation chamber for a couple weeks in total, only being allowed out when Bellum was performing more tests or doling out more punishments on him.

Dr. Bellum had been **furious** after he told her about everything his team had done during the last couple months. He had missed several opportunities to kill Carmen Sandiego simply because he’d been more concerned with protecting his teammates. Dr. Bellum saw this as a severe flaw in his training, and she let him know **exactly** how disappointed in him she was.

Crackle had endured being shocked and beaten with his own crackle rod so many times that he eventually passed out from the pain. When he awoke, he was inside the isolation chamber, and when he’d started to panic, Bellum’s voice had come across the speaker inside the chamber to scold him. She told him he was a disappointment and a failure, and that he should have known better. She explained that he should have sacrificed his own life or the lives of his teammates if it meant completing his mission. She’d lectured and scolded him for what felt like an eternity, and by the time she was done, he felt like a worthless failure.

She did this every single day he was in the chamber, and after a while he began to believe her words. He had failed at his mission, and it was all because he had failed as a leader. If he had been more diligent, more intelligent, and a bit stronger, then none of this would have happened. It was his own fault he was in this situation.

The silence and the darkness was terrifying to him, and he had curled up simply hoping she would eventually show him mercy. It was clear that she was **really** angry with him when she made no effort to feed him, and he realized there was nothing stopping her from leaving him to die in there. Several times the air seemed to burn his throat and he knew she was gassing the chamber with something. The gas made him feel sick and he felt the confusion and fog in his mind thicken in a familiar way. 

Crackle never admitted to Bellum that he remembered things from his old life, and he carefully omitted any mention of these memories to her. The thought of once again living in constant fog was a fate worse than death, and he desperately clung to his memories, refusing to let them go. The fog felt like it was tearing his mind apart, but he fought it with everything he had.

He found himself lost in his memories, and they were the only thing making the isolation chamber bearable. He thought of his teammates and all their quirks, and he thought of the ocean and perfect blue sky. Bellum wanted him to say he didn’t care about his teammates, and that he would be willing to kill them without question, but Crackle knew that wasn’t who he was. He wasn’t emotionless, and he wasn’t the robot Bellum seemed to think he was. He cared about his team.

Crackle’s mind felt like it was splintering the more he fought, and the hungrier and thirstier he became, the more his rational thoughts seemed to disappear. He was left reacting to his situation by instinct, and he felt angry, afraid, and oddly impatient. He felt like an animal that was pacing a cage, and it made him want to fight, to defend himself, but he was alone in the chamber. There was nothing to fight in here, and nothing he could do. He was helpless.

When the door to the chamber finally clicked open, he turned towards the door, and tensed, expecting more pain. For some reason the lights were off in the lab and when Crackle slowly crawled his way out of the chamber, there was no sign of Dr. Bellum. Crackle’s eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light, and he gazed around with a frown, realizing there must have been a power outage. He glanced back towards the chamber, knowing he was probably supposed to still be in there. If there was a power outage, that explained why all the doors within the lab suddenly opened. This was done for safety purposes in case of an emergency.

Crackle’s eyes fell on the nearby sink, and he scrambled across the lab, desperate for water. Turning the tap on, he put his face into the stream of water, drinking as fast as he could. The sudden intake of water upset his stomach and a few seconds later he was vomiting it back into the sink. Coughing and gagging for a few moments, he rinsed out his mouth and this time drank slowly, stopping when his stomach started to feel queasy. 

Turning the water off, he wondered if Bellum was aware he was now out of the chamber. Although he was cold and naked, Crackle didn’t care and headed for the door, just wanting to find something to eat. As he walked through the empty halls, Crackle could hear voices coming from the nearby faculty lounge. He was about to pass by the door when he heard Brunt say ‘Paper Star.’ Crackle paused, and then approached the door that was partially open. Peering inside the faculty lounge, he saw the faculty were seated at their meeting table, all holding flashlights.

To Crackle’s surprise, Roundabout was there in person, sitting in the normally vacant seat. The fifth faculty member very rarely visited the island, and Crackle was curious over why he was there. Was it in some way connected with Paper Star, or was he perhaps here for Cleo’s upcoming gala? Crackle had lost track of time while in the isolation chamber, and he wasn’t even sure if the gala had already happened.

Knowing he shouldn’t be eavesdropping like this, Crackle bit his lower lip, and then shifted on his feet, debating on what he should do. All thoughts of leaving were gone in an instant when he heard Cleo's next words.

“Why do they think we would **ever** pay ransom for one of our operatives?” Cleo demanded, her tone insulted, “We have hundreds of others, and Paper Star is nothing special.”

“Well, perhaps we would consider it if they were one of our **top** operatives, but Paper Star has been nothing but a problem since the day she joined our ranks,” Roundabout commented. “She has cost V.I.L.E a **lot** of money since she graduated. When I went through the paperwork associated with her, there have been over a dozen instances where her crimes had to be covered up by the Cleaners. She is a clear liability.”

“I’ve been saying that for a year now!” Brunt cut in angrily, “I **told** you that girl wasn’t right, but none of you would listen to me!”

“Paper Star is a fascinating individual,” Maelstrom commented, “Not many operatives are so willing to kill for us. She has been useful in eliminating difficult enemies.” 

Cleo rolled her eyes. “How much are they demanding?” she asked.

“Twenty million,” Roundabout answered, glancing down at his phone’s screen. “They’ve given us a deadline that has already passed. They’re now threatening to sell her to the highest bidder.”

“Just let her die,” Bellum commented impatiently, “She killed another operative, and she can’t be trusted. She’s not worth the twenty million.”

“Normally I would agree,” Maelstrom commented, his expression looking strained, “but this situation is a bit different. If she’s sold to V.I.L.E’s enemies, she could reveal any number of secrets. It would be best to either pay the ransom or have her killed.”

“Do we know where she’s being held?” Bellum asked, “Could we send the Cleaners to take her out?”

“We haven’t yet found out where she’s being held, but Lady Dokuso is doing her best to track her down,” Roundabout replied, “Should I arrange the Cleaners to head to Tokyo?”

“Let’s wait on that,” Maelstrom suggested, “If Lady Dokuso can rescue her, then we’ll get Paper Star back, but if not, then she can take her out using one of her poison darts. Only if Dokuso fails should we send the Cleaners.”

“That makes sense,” Brunt agreed, “But we should prepare a plane just in case they need to leave.”

“Agreed,” Cleo commented, “It never hurts to be prepared.”

“I’ll arrange our fastest plane to be on stand-by just in case,” Roundabout said, adjusting his glasses thoughtfully. “I’ll inform the Cleaners that they may be needed.”

“So, Cleo, how are you liking having your pretty little hench-model back?” Brunt demanded.

“Ugh,” Cleo complained, “Dash developed a weird sense of confidence while he was away and I don’t like it. He takes all abuse thrown at him like it doesn’t even bother him, and it’s irritating. I’ve been chipping away at his self-esteem, but it’s such a bother.”

“So, you’re going to keep that pretty blond instead?” Brunt asked, raising a brow.

Cleo rolled her eyes. “I’m planning on keeping them **both**, they just don’t know that yet. They think they’re competing for the job position.”

Maelstrom let out a short, amused snort. “That is so deliciously evil,” he commented, “I suspect they’ve been at each other’s throats this whole time?”

Cleo sighed. “Not as much as I’d anticipated. Dash mostly just ignores Sterling unless he gets pushed too far. He has a nasty habit of lashing out physically when he gets angry, and I blame those uncouth operatives he was hanging around. I’m going to have to retrain him since he’s gone completely feral.”

Brunt laughed. “Feral? That skinny little boy is **hardly** feral. I overheard him scolding one of the guards the other day for accidentally brushing up against him and wrinkling his jacket. I think you’re overreacting.”

Cleo sniffed indignantly, and crossed her arms. “He’s not as dependent on me as he used to be, and I don’t like it,” she replied, “Once I tear him completely down, I can get Dash Haber back to the way he once was.”

“I really love how you’ve pitted them against each other,” Maelstrom commented, “But may I make a suggestion?”

Cleo cocked her head. “Go ahead.”

“Make it seem like you’ve decided to choose Sterling as your assistant. Pretend Dash is going to be demoted to make him squirm. Leave him to stew for a couple days, and when you suddenly change your mind, he'll be incredibly grateful and desperate to meet your approval.”

Cleo gave a nod. “That sounds like a good idea,” she admitted, “This should ensure Dash is securely under my thumb for a good long while.”

“When is this power outage going to be over?” Brunt complained, “I thought it was only supposed to be five minutes!”

Bellum gave a shrug. “They’re rewiring to a new power grid and so they must have run into a problem. It shouldn’t be that much longer.”

“How’s your favourite little pet doing?” Maelstrom asked, “Has he been giving you any trouble?”

“Oh, not at all,” Bellum replied, “Crackle is as submissive as always, but this mission has revealed some flaws in his programming. I didn’t count on the fact that after prolonged exposure, he’d grow attached to his teammates. This is something I’m experimenting with now to hopefully destroy so it doesn’t happen again.”

“Can you do that?” Roundabout asked in surprise, “This goes way beyond the normal mind erases!”

Bellum glanced over at him and then shrugged. “I’ve just been playing around with Crackle’s mind to see what I can accomplish. He’s **almost** the perfect soldier, but no matter how hard I try to squash his emotions, they just keep coming back.”

“How much can you tamper with his mind?” Maelstrom asked curiously, “He’s been modified so many times already that it must be causing damage.”

“It is,” Bellum confirmed, “At this point I’m just using him for research purposes for the next operative I enhance. I have a few more experiments planned, and then I’m going to likely put him down. It would be kinder than keeping him alive with severe brain damage.”

Roundabout’s eyes widened. “Isn’t he your favourite operative?!”

Bellum nodded. “He is, but his usefulness has been diminished to the point he’s getting to be a waste of space. He can’t be trusted to be sent on another mission, and once my experiments conclude, I won’t have a use for him.”

“How are you going to do it?” Brunt asked with a frown.

“I have him in the isolation chamber right now being starved. Once I’ve done all needed experiments and gotten all relevant data, I will give him one last meal that will put him into a sleep he’ll never wake from. It will be a painless death, and he won’t even realize what is happening.”

“Who will be the next operative you experiment on?” Roundabout asked curiously.

Bellum gave a shrug. “Someone dumb and disposable,” she replied, “Moose Boy perhaps.”

Brunt gave a nod and crossed her arms. “There’s no operative dumber or more disposable than **that** nitwit,” she commented, “But what about his equally useless partner?”

“I have no use for him,” Bellum responded with a shrug, “He has an excellent mind however, and so I might send him up north to work in Vess’ lab. He’s practically blind, but he could help with research or something.”

“Research for what?” Roundabout asked.

Bellum gave him a dismissive shrug. “Probably the new flu vaccine,” she replied, “Vess will assign him to something.”

“Those two have been partners for like 15 years,” Brunt pointed out, “And if rumours are to be believed, they probably won’t like being separated.”

“They’ll have no choice,” Belum replied, “We’ll tell Otterman that Moose Boy was killed off by A.C.M.E or something. I doubt he’ll give us much trouble after that.”

Crackle stood frozen at the door, unable to believe what he’d just overheard. His entire team including himself were in jeopardy! He felt completely betrayed knowing Bellum was going to kill him and toss him aside like he was nothing to her. He’d been nothing but loyal to V.I.L.E and they were repaying it with betrayal. He had to find a way to warn his team, and find a way to rescue Paper Star.

Turning away from the door, Crackle took off running back to the lab. The first thing he had to do was make sure he could get out of the isolation chamber if he needed to. Hurrying across the lab, he approached the chamber and just the sight of it was enough to send shivers down his spine. Inspecting the latch on the chamber, he realized it would be easy to jam it so the chamber never actually locked. 

Not knowing how much time he had left, he crossed the lab to grab some tools. Putting on goggles, and a welder’s apron, Crackle turned on a welding torch and got to work destroying the latch and locking mechanism. Several of the sparks burned his neck and face, and he grimaced from the pain, but persisted until the metal of the latch was melted. He used several tools to smooth the liquid metal, and knew the door would never lock again. Making sure his work was neat so it wouldn’t be noticed, he finished just as the lights turned on. Letting out a curse, he ran to put his tools back where he’d found them. He then ran for Dr. Bellum’s desk and reached for the drawer. It was locked and so he grabbed a few tiny screwdrivers and quickly picked the lock as fast as he could. The desk drawer popped open, and Crackle grabbed his com, and closed the drawer, not sure when Bellum would return. 

Grabbing one last drink from the sink, he then went back into the isolation chamber and closed the door. Using the light from the com, he found an exposed pipe inside the chamber and hid the com behind it. Breathing heavily from both fear and exertion, Crackle sat down on the cold metal floor and simply waited. The chamber had two way speakers and he couldn’t chance making a call until he was sure Dr. Bellum wouldn’t overhear him.

Bellum must not have realized the chamber had opened, because Crackle remained in the chamber for the rest of the night before she finally spoke to him over the com.

“Crackle, I am going to allow you to come out now,” she told him, “I think you’ve been properly punished.”

“Yes, Dr. Bellum,” he said reflexively.

When the door opened, the light seemed to stab into his eyes, and Crackle raised his hands until he adjusted. 

“Come, come!” Bellum scolded, “Hurry up!”

Crackle got up from where he sat and left the chamber, trying his best to keep his expression completely neutral. He felt extreme hatred for the doctor, and he wished he could leave her to rot in the isolation chamber. Knowing it would be suicide to attack any of the faculty, Crackle simply kept his face blank as he stood before her.

“I have another test, but I need to wait a week for the supplies to come in,” Bellum explained to him, “I figured I might as well get some use out of you while we’re waiting.”

“Of course, doctor,” Crackle replied, “What can I do to help you?”

“The men who were switching the facility to the new powergrid have not done it properly and the lights keep flickering. I want you to personally repair their shoddy work, and get the building back in working order.”

Crackle nodded, knowing the basement would be a place he could potentially escape her ever-watchful gaze.

“Get dressed,” Bellum ordered, pointing to a new stealthsuit waiting for him, “Once you are dressed, you have permission to go to the cafeteria.”

Crackle gave her another nod and reached for his clothes. “I won’t disappoint you, Dr. Bellum.”

Bellum frowned at him, getting an odd feeling about him. He hadn’t said anything unusual, but there was something lurking deep in his eyes that she didn’t like. This would require a bit of investigation, and she would keep a close eye on him.

“You are still on probation,” she informed him, “I will be watching you on the cameras, and so don’t make any mistakes. Failure will be dealt with **severely**.”

“Yes, Dr. Bellum,” Crackle replied, knowing he had to be careful.

Once he was dressed, Crackle headed for the door, knowing he had to come up with a plan to save his team. He had no way of knowing when Bellum planned on killing him, and so if he dragged out the repairs on the powergrid, it would buy him a bit of time.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The scar reducer hadn’t been for Cleo, it had been for Dash. Cleo was tired of waiting for his surgery scar to heal, and she made him stand there as she lasered the wound. She of course didn’t start at level one as directed and instead started at the highest setting wanting him healed as quickly as possible. The laser felt like it was tearing his wound open all over again, but Dash remained perfectly still, simply gritting his teeth against the pain. By the time she was done, he was visibly shaking from the pain, but he didn’t dare make any complaints.

Dash glanced down at his side once she was done, and saw the skin was red and sore-looking, but the scar was completely gone. Cleo frowned at her work critically, but then gave a nod, seemingly satisfied.

“**There**, that hideous scar is finally gone,” Cleo commented, “Make certain nothing like this happens again, Dash.”

“I believe you can only get your appendix removed once, countess,” Dash replied.

Cleo narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t get lippy with me, Dash, or I will assign you to work with Coach Brunt for the rest of the day.”

Dash grimaced at the thought. Brunt had a habit of making him hold her sweaty workout towel and go for runs with her, and it was horrible. Dash hated the smell of sweat, and Brunt’s gym reeked of it. The only positive thing about being assigned to Brunt for the day was that she fed him. Brunt didn’t care what he ate, and actually encouraged him to snack throughout the day. Just the thought of food was torturous, and Dash wished this month would end.

Dash found his every thought was about food, and he even dreamed about it at night. He’d never been more hungry in his entire life, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could last. Cleo was probably hoping he’d give in and gorge so she could scold him for it, but Dash was stubborn and he refused. He was now thin enough that his every movement hurt, and finally Cleo stopped making comments about his weight. It was during the third week that Dash fainted while working on his newest design. When he awoke, he found Sterling had dragged him onto the nearby couch, the other man clearly concerned. Dash wasn’t expecting this, and when Sterling had tried offering him food, he had refused. Certain it was a trick of some sort, he had snapped at the other man that he was fine and returned to work without so much as a thank you. For the rest of that day, he could feel Sterling’s eyes on him, but Dash made no mention of it.

The sabotage stopped after that, and Dash wondered if perhaps Sterling did it out of pity, or whether he had finally given up on beating him. When Dash had finished his dress design, he headed for the stairs to deliver it to Cleo, feeling tired and somewhat dizzy. Worried he was going to fall, he gripped the railing tightly and took the stairs slowly, and he had to stop several times to rest, his legs feeling weak underneath him. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he took a seat on the bottom step to rest for a few moments, and he looked up as Roundabout passed him by.

Roundabout then paused and glanced back at him.

“Good evening, Dash Haber,” he greeted, “That’s a lovely dress you have there.”

Dash glanced at the emerald green gown in his arms, not even able to feel any pride for his work. “Thank you, Sir,” he replied politely, “What brings you to the island? You don’t normally visit us in person.”

Roundabout gave him an easy shrug. “I came to look through a bit of physical paperwork from before I was head faculty. Most paperwork is uploaded digitally, but there’s still much that I haven’t gone through yet.”

Dash gave him a nod, too exhausted to put much thought into that. Roundabout stared at him for a few moments, and then gave him a thoughtful look.

“I’ve been meaning to have a chat with you, but I just haven’t found the time. Is it alright if we speak for a few minutes right now?”

Dash didn’t think he could get up even if he wanted to, and so he nodded.

“Very good,” Roundabout replied.

To Dash’s complete surprise, Roundabout took a seat on the step next to him. Roundabout adjusted his glasses, and then let out a sigh like he was glad to sit down for a moment.

“Do you remember how I asked you to keep me informed of anything that happened with Team Crackle?” he asked.

Dash gave a nod.

“I just wanted to have a follow-up conversation about that,” Roundabout explained, “Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?”

Dash shook his head. “No, not really.”

“I’m new to the faculty, and so I don’t know everything the others have been getting up to,” Roundabout admitted, “I want to make sure V.I.L.E is as great as it could be. I want you to know that you can trust me if you’ve noticed anything unusual about your mission or your former teammates.”

“I’m still skeptical whether or not Neal is human, but other than that, there hasn’t been anything strange I’ve noticed.”

Roundabout nodded, and adjusted his grip on his cane. “Have you heard anything mentioned about Dr. Vess or Russia?”

Dash’s eyes widened and he stiffened up. Roundabout turned to look at him fully.

“You know something,” he stated confidently.

Dash averted his eyes, and mutely shook his head. Roundabout could see the fear on Dash’s face, and he knew he must know something he shouldn’t.

“What is it?” Roundabout asked eagerly.

“Nothing,” Dash replied, his shoulders tensing.

Roundabout gave a glance around to make sure they were alone, and then leaned in a bit closer to him. “Remember that I defended you once, and lied for you,” he told him, “I will give you complete immunity for whatever it is you know. I will not tell the other faculty. I was an operative for most of my life and I understand how the faculty can sometimes be. It’s not your fault if you learned something you shouldn’t, and I won't hold it against you.” 

Dash glanced at Roundabout out of the corner of his eye, and considered the other man carefully. He didn’t know much about Roundabout, but he did know that he’d lied to Crackle for him, and probably covered for him to the faculty. Roundabout seemed genuine, and that worried Dash more than anything. They were villains and they weren’t **supposed** to show their true emotions like that. Was he being tricked?

Dash then let out a deep sigh. He was way too exhausted to deal with this shit. He found he just didn’t care anymore, and he turned weary eyes to Roundabout.

“I overheard Bellum and Vess talking about the child experimentation they’ve been doing in Russia.”

This was definitely not what Roundabout was expecting to hear. “What? Child experimentation?!”

Dash nodded. “Vess needed more children since all the others had died. Bellum is going to send him some. There was also something about an operative named Siren who they’re keeping guarded 24/7. He apparently knows how to do the experiments but is refusing to help them.”

“There’s no operative by the name of Siren,” Roundabout said with a frown.

Dash gave a shrug and Roundabout’s frown deepened. Were the entire faculty aware of this, or was it just Bellum, Maelstrom and Vess? This was definitely something that required further research.

“What else did you hear?” Roundabout asked.

“Vess is getting close to a breakthrough with his experiments which is why he needs more test subjects. His current test subject is too young and he needed older kids around ten years old.”

Roundabout gave a slow nod. “Did he mention what the experiments were for?”

Dash shook his head. “He mentioned something about Volkov, and that was it. They didn’t talk for very long.”

Roundabout gave another nod, wanting to investigate this immediately. “Thank you, Dash Haber. You have my word that I won’t repeat any of this to the faculty. If you overhear anything else, come tell me as soon as possible.”

Dash didn’t answer and Roundabout got back to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane. “I’ll be in touch,” he promised, walking away as fast as he could.

Dash watched him go and then struggled back up to his feet. All he wanted to do was sleep, but he still had to deliver this dress before he could retire for the night. As he walked through the halls in the direction of Cleo’s chambers, his steps were slow and he felt like his legs were too heavy to move properly. When he finally arrived, he straightened his clothes, took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

“Enter,” Cleo called, her tone sounding annoyed.

Dash pushed open the large double doors and then approached her, gown in hand.

“You’re late as usual, Dash,” she scolded with a roll of her eyes, “The gala is tomorrow and you only now finished the dress. For your sake, it had better be perfect.”

“My apologies, countess,” Dash replied, holding the dress out towards her.

As Cleo inspected the dress, Dash saw the way her eyes lit up, and he knew she loved it. She looked it all over, and ran a hand along the soft silk, green being her favourite colour. Dash had worked incredibly hard on it, and despite the short deadline, he had finished it in time.

Cleo then turned away, nose in the air. “It is...acceptable,” she commented, “You may place it over there next to my mirrors.”

Dash did as he was told, and carefully hung the dress on one of the hooks near Cleo’s biggest mirror. He then turned back to Cleo hoping he could now finally go to bed.

“Is that all, countess?” he asked.

Cleo seemed to think for a moment and then waved him off. “Yes, yes, you may retire now,” she told him, “Do **not** be late tomorrow.”

Dash gave her a nod, and he eagerly headed for the door. Just as he was turning the doorknob, Cleo called after him.

“You will be judged **heavily** at the gala, and so I suggest you be careful.”

Cleo was planning a breakfast gala for the next day, and both Sterling and Dash were to stand by her side the entire time. They were going to be made to wear matching suits in colours that would compliment Cleo’s dress, and she had already informed them multiple times they would be judged harshly during the gala. 

This was nothing new to Dash, but it had been obvious to him that Sterling was nervous, this being his first gala. Cleo had given no direction on what they were supposed to do beyond stand there and look pretty, and this was clearly worrying Sterling. He’d been fretting about it for the past two days, and Dash almost felt sorry for him. Cleo was testing them, and Dash had the unfair advantage.

It took Dash a long time to make it back to the stairs of the tower and when he stared up at the seemingly endless stairs above him, he let out a miserable groan. As he began trudging his way up the 200 stairs, he had to keep stopping every few steps, just wanting to sit down and never move again. He made it about halfway up and couldn’t walk any more, sinking down to sit in pure exhaustion. Leaning against the cold wall of the tower, he felt his eyes slip closed and he didn’t have the energy to fight anymore.

When Dash awoke, it was pitch black and he was still tired and cold. Stretching with a wince, his back gave an audible crack, and he pulled himself back to his feet. Feeling a little better, he began heading up the stairs, just wanting to crawl in his bed and sleep until morning.

As Dash got closer to the top of the stairs, he heard something quite unexpected. There was the most beautiful music coming from the tower, and he felt his curiosity piqued. When he made it to the top of the stairs, he could see a light under Sterling’s door, and the music seemed to be coming from within. Wanting to see what the other man was up to, he opened the door a crack and peered in. 

Sterling was standing in front of the open window playing a violin. The violent wind that came from over the ocean ripped through his hair dramatically, and Dash stared in awe. Sterling’s eyes were closed, and he was playing with a talent and passion so deep that it truly stunned Dash. The music soared around them hypnotically, and Sterling was completely oblivious to his presence. 

The air in the room was cold, and Dash shivered, but he never once took his eyes from Sterling.

Dash felt like he recognized the tune Sterling was playing, but he couldn’t quite place it. The notes were soft and sweet, and Dash felt drawn in by the music, and for just a moment it made him forget about his terrible month.

Tears were running down Sterling’s cheeks as he played, and the despair he felt came out through his music. Sterling was clearly not doing well emotionally, and once again Dash felt a tiny amount of pity for the other man. 

Dash quietly stepped into the room, and simply stood there listening in silence. Sterling rocked back and forth as he played, clearly lost in his own little world. As Sterling played the same song over and over, Dash suddenly recognized where he’d heard the music from.

“Is that a song from Fullmetal Alchemist? Bratja?”

There was a horrible screech from the violin as Sterling nearly jumped a mile, and he spun around completely startled. They stared at one another in silence for a moment, and then Sterling hurriedly wiped at his eyes, not wanting Dash to see him cry. He then turned to put the violin back in its case, his whole body tense.

“What are you doing in my room?” he demanded angrily.

“I heard you playing,” Dash explained.

“Get out of my room, Dash Haber!” Sterling snapped, once again wiping at his eyes.

Dash hesitated, his gaze on the violin. “You play beautifully,” he commented, “You sound like a professional.”

Sterling was obviously not used to compliments, and he seemed suspicious and a bit taken aback. He wiped at his eyes once again, and then glared at Dash.

“I just like to play,” Sterling responded, his tone a bit spiky, “I’ve played as long as I can remember.”

Dash looked Sterling up and down, and now that the other man was out of makeup and dressed for bed, he could see how terrible he looked. It was obvious the month was taking its toll on Sterling, and he looked tired and sick.

“Are you feeling alright?” Dash questioned with a frown.

“Why would **you** care?” Sterling snapped, clenching his hands into fists. “Why would always perfect, always favoured Dash give a shite what happens to me? You can sod right off.”

Dash rolled his eyes at the aggression, and then he sighed. Letting his mask slip for a moment, he gave Sterling a weary look. Sterling eyed him for a moment and then sat down on his bed, clutching his head, and not saying a word. Dash debated for a moment and then took a seat beside him.

“I really hate you, Dash Haber,” Sterling said quietly, “Why did you have to come back? Why did you have to ruin everything?”

“The countess asked for me to return,” Dash replied, “I had no choice in the matter.”

Sterling glanced over at him with a frown. “You were really an operative for a while?” he asked.

Dash nodded.

“What was it like?”

Dash had no idea how to answer that. What **was** it like being an operative? He considered his reply carefully.

“It was dirty, painful, and a lot of hard work,” Dash answered after a few seconds, “My teammates all annoyed me, we had to share a room, and the enemy was always after us.”

“That sounds terrible,” Sterling stated with a frown, “No wonder you wanted to return.”

“No,” Dash corrected, “I loved being an operative, and I would have stayed one if I had the choice.”

Sterling simply stared at him in disbelief. “What? Why?”

Dash hadn’t really thought about it, but the moment he left Cleo’s employ, he had felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. No one was judging how well his makeup was applied, no one was criticizing his appearance, and no one was putting constant, smothering pressure on him. His teammates had certainly annoyed him, but they accepted him for who he was and didn’t try to change that.

Dash felt a sense of loss as he thought of his team and to his surprise, he realized he missed them. He missed the bickering, he missed the adventure, and he missed being depended on. He trusted his team with his life, and they in turn trusted him with theirs. Dash had never felt more alone since returning to Cleo, and there was a sense of loss within him. For a brief time he had felt important, and now that was gone. He was now nothing but an accessory.

Dash sat in silence for so long that Sterling gave him a light nudge, and Dash looked up.

“I could be myself,” Dash finally replied.

Sterling’s eyes widened, and he glanced towards the door as if scared someone would overhear them. “You’re trying to trick me into something!” he accused, lowering his voice into a hiss, “You’re not going to trip me up, I’m going to be perfect for Countess Cleo!”

Dash simply let out a sigh. “Let it go, Sterling, you and I both know she’s not going to choose you. She’s only doing this to make me miserable.”

Sterling lashed out to angrily slap him, but Dash batted his hand away impatiently. Sterling didn’t try a second time and simply sagged in defeat. Dash stared at him, and saw himself in the other man. He’d always been so desperate to meet Cleo’s approval that any failure was completely devastating. Sterling was a few years younger than him, perhaps twenty-two or so, and Dash had his suspicions that he’d never gone through V.I.L.E training.

“Did you graduate from the academy?” Dash asked.

Sterling shook his head, and got up to stare out the window, his expression exhausted. “I was scouted by Cleo a month ago. I was a model working in London. She offered me ten times the salary I was earning as a model, and I was in a really bad spot and so I accepted.”

“You’ll be fine when you return to London,” Dash assured him, “Working for Cleo isn’t for everyone.”

Sterling slammed his hands down on the mattress. “No!” he snapped, “It **is** for me! This is everything I dreamed of, and I refuse to fail!”

Dash raised a brow. “What are you going to do, kill me?”

Sterling gave him the side-eye for a moment, and then heaved a sigh. “No. I don’t know **what** I’m going to do. I don’t even know what to do at this stupid gala tomorrow.”

Dash rolled his eyes. “Look, we both know she’s already chosen me, and so I’ll offer you a little bit of advice. Always stay at least two steps behind her at the gala, and don’t speak to anyone unless they speak to you first. If someone approaches the Countess to hand her something, you accept the item on her behalf. She will then decide if she wants it or not. Appearance is **everything** at these galas, and so stand properly, and keep your expression pleasant. Never **ever** leave her side without permission.”

Sterling was genuinely surprised. “Why are you telling me this?”

Dash shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted, “I suppose I like the competition?”

“No you don’t.”

“You’re right,” Dash agreed, “I don’t, but I don’t think it’s fair what she’s doing to you.”

Sterling ran a hand through his blond hair, and he gave him a nod. “Thank you,” he said, sounding like he meant it.

Both men fell into a miserable sort of silence, both too tired and too worn down to fight anymore. Dash felt the emptiness within him more than ever, and he slowly got to his feet. The emptiness seemed to fill him at this moment, and Dash realized he had missed basic human companionship. He’d been lonely this last month, and he missed his team even more now that he acknowledged it.

“You never tattled on me for trying to ruin your designs,” Sterling said a bit hesitantly.

Dash snorted, his expression morphing into a snotty look. “Like any of that childish nonsense is enough to deter me.”

“You’re not going to tell the Countess about my violin are you?” Sterling asked worriedly, “She told me to burn it the first day I arrived…”

Dash’s eyes widened.

“I...I couldn’t do it,” Sterling admitted, “This violin was my grandfather’s, and it means everything to me. Please don’t tell her.”

Dash glanced to the violin and had a feeling that was Sterling's only source of happiness right now. It would be so easy to crush the man if he reported it, and normally he would have, but for some reason Dash just didn’t care anymore.

“I won’t say anything,” Dash promised, glancing towards the door.

Sterling seemed relieved, and he then offered Dash a smile. “I’m going to wipe the floor with you at this gala,” he promised.

Dash scoffed. “For that you’d have to inherit some talent.”

It was incredibly late and they had to get up in five hours, and so Dash headed for the door.

“Dash Haber?”

Dash paused with his hand on the doorknob, and glanced back. “What?”

“You can stay if you want…?” Sterling offered, his eyes turning to the nearby bed.

Dash blinked at him, the invitation taking him off-guard. There was a desperation in Sterling’s eyes that Dash understood well, the need for some sort of companionship. The cold and empty feeling of loneliness within Dash was almost unbearable, and he found himself nodding, and his hand released the doorknob. Maybe just for one night he wouldn’t be alone. He could forget everything just for one night.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Crackle was purposely taking his time repairing the power grid, and he hadn’t seen a single opportunity to recover his com. Bellum’s cameras tracked his every move, and it was obvious she was suspicious. Knowing he didn’t have much time before Paper Star was killed, he tried to think of what he could do. 

He had overheard Cleo speaking with Maelstrom about Paper Star, and it seemed that Dokuso wasn’t successful in getting anywhere near her. Paper Star had been sold to one of V.I.L.E’s enemies, but the name of the organization was never mentioned. These new people tried to ransom Paper Star off, but V.I.L.E had refused. In three days, this group were going to kill Paper Star, and V.I.L.E were going to allow it. The Cleaner’s were scheduled to be dispatched in two days, and Crackle knew Paper Star wouldn’t stand a chance.

Knowing the plan was questionable at best, he decided he would have to knock out the power in the facility to knock out Bellum’s cameras for a while.

He told Bellum that the previous electricians had caused a lot of damage when they had wired the grid wrong and that he would need to disconnect the power for twenty minutes to repair it. Bellum had been annoyed over this since she was in the middle of researching something, but she had given her permission as long as he did it at night when it wouldn’t affect too many people. Cleo was planning an extravagant gala for all her rich and powerful friends, and the power needed to be repaired before then.

Crackle assured her this wouldn’t be an issue, and Bellum had allowed it. She had still punished him however for the inconvenience, and now Crackle was even more bruised and sore than he was before. He didn’t complain however, and simply apologized as was expected and then waited for his opportunity.

That night at two, he disconnected the power to the facility, and then ran for the lab as fast as he could, knowing he couldn’t take too long. Luckily Bellum wasn’t in the lab, and Crackle opened the isolation chamber and grabbed his com out of its hiding spot. Stuffing it into his pocket, he turned and ran back for the basement, hoping no one noticed he was gone. The basement was quiet and still, and Crackle stepped into the furnace room, knowing the room was pretty much soundproof.

Powering it on, he saw the battery was only at 12% and let out a curse. Calling Neal’s number first, and shifted impatiently as it rang and rang. Finally it was answered, but it wasn’t Neal who stared back at him. An older man with greying hair stared at the screen with a disapproving frown.

“Neal is asleep,” the man informed him, “It’s the middle of the night.”

“Who are you?” Crackle demanded, “What are you doing with Neal’s com?”

“Oh, you’re Australian,” the man commented, “I’m Neal’s brother Adam.”

Crackle realized that when Neal had been sent back to New Zealand he must have moved in with his brother.

“I need to speak with Neal,” Crackle ordered, “Put him on the phone.”

“Call back in the morning,” Adam replied impatiently, “It’s the middle of the night!”

Crackle cursed when he saw the battery was down to 10%. “It’s an emergency! Put him on the bloody phone!”

Adam stared at him for a moment. “Do you work with Neal?”

“Yes, I’m his...boss,” Crackle replied, “There’s been an emergency and I need to speak with him **now**!”

“An emergency at the zebra reserve?” Adam asked skeptically.

“Yes! Put him on the phone!”

“My brother has worked for your company for over 14 years, and you clearly depend on him a lot, and so when is he getting a promotion? It’s ridiculous that someone as young as you is his boss when he’s worked his ass off for over a decade!”

Crackle scowled. “I promise I will look into that, now put him on the phone.”

Adam let out a sigh and started walking up a flight of stairs. Crackle caught glimpses of a very nice house, and a moment later, Adam knocked loudly on a bedroom door.

“Hrm?” Neal questioned sleepily from inside.

“Neal, someone is on the phone for you. They say there’s an emergency at the zebra reserve!”

Neal was to the door within seconds, a panicked look in his eyes. “You answered my com?!”

“It woke me up,” Adam replied, holding the com out, “Tell him to give you a promotion or at least a raise.”

Neal snatched the com, a look of fear in his eyes, but when he saw it was Crackle, he visibly relaxed. “Oh, hi Graham,” he greeted, “What’s up?”

“There’s an emergency,” Crackle replied, “Go somewhere private **now**.”

Hearing the urgency in the other man’s voice, Neal nodded and then headed down the stairs past his brother. He stepped outside onto the porch and closed the door after him.

“Okay, I’m alone,” Neal told him, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I don’t have a long time,” Crackle said, “My com’s battery is about to die. I’m going to need you to contact the others once I’ve explained everything. I don’t have enough battery to make that many calls.”

Neal nodded, now even more concerned. “Calm down, wombat. I’m listening, tell me everything.”

Crackle hurriedly explained everything he had learned and Neal listened in silence, completely horrified. When Crackle was done, Neal swallowed heavily, for once speechless.

“I know it’s a lot to ask of you, Neal, but we **need** to rescue Paper Star. If we do this, we’ll be defecting from V.I.L.E. There will be no coming back from this, and they will likely be coming after our heads. I know you’re loyal to V.I.L.E, Neal, and I’ll understand if you-”

“I’m booking the flight now to Tokyo,” Neal responded, “I can get there in 12 hours. Let’s go get our girl!”

Crackle let out a breath of relief. “My battery is about to die. Will you contact Double Trouble, and then Moose Boy and Otterman to let them know what’s happening?”

Neal nodded, already heading back into the house. 

“I’m going to reach out to Dash when I have the chance,” Crackle told him, “Text me after you contact the others.”

“Will do, wombat,” Neal responded, worry evident in his tone, “Everything will be right as. I’ll be in contact.”

Neal disconnected the call and looked up to see his brother watching him from the stairs. 

“So, what was the emergency?” Adam asked.

“I need to leave immediately,” Neal responded, hurrying up the stairs, “There was a huge emergency at work and I may be out of contact for a few days.”

“What happened?” Adam asked.

“No time to explain right now, I have a flight to catch,” Neal answered, hurrying into his room to toss his belongings into a dufflebag.

“Bye, Adam,” Neal said, pretty much running for the door. “I’m borrowing your car!”

“Well, I can drive you-”

Neal was already out the door. Neal began dialing Theodore’s number before he’d even gotten into the car, and as he pulled out of the driveway, the call was answered.

Crackle waited impatiently, knowing he had to turn the power back on within just a few minutes. He stared down at his com as the battery sat at 2%, hoping Neal got back to him before it died. The battery went down to 1% and Crackle began fretting, having no idea what he was going to do. He’d have to try to charge the com somehow and that would likely get him caught. Bellum would have him killed, and then likely the rest of his team as well.

The battery icon began to blink as the com began losing power, but suddenly a text appeared on the screen. 

‘We’re all coming. See you in Tokyo.’

The com then went dead.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The gala was absolute perfection, and Dash expected no less. The colours of the room were a rich and elegant emerald with silver accents, and he and Sterling were dressed accordingly in silver and emerald suits to match. They stood behind Cleo as she sat at the front of the room, doing her best to look as elegant and as mysterious as she could.

They were standing next to the banquet table, and the smell was driving Dash absolutely crazy. He was beyond starving at this point, and he was eyeing the food as subtly as he could, everything looking good to him. Dash knew this was not something he was going to be able to resist and he found his attention on the bread and pastries. 

As Cleo took a few steps forward to speak with someone, Dash reached for a sesame seed bagel only for Cleo to turn on him in an instant, and slap his hand away.

“Do you have **any** idea how many calories are in a bagel?!” she hissed, “There’s over three-hundred calories in just **one**!”

Dash stared intently at the bagel still wanting it, and Cleo let out an over-exaggerated sigh. “If you **must** eat something, stick with the vegetable tray.”

Sterling didn’t hesitate to reach for a handful of vegetables, but Dash still had his eye on that bagel. He wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything before, and he fidgeted, his hand just itching to reach out and take it. Cleo narrowed her eyes at him in warning, but all Dash cared about was that bagel. 

“Three-hundred calories is an hour long jog with Coach Brunt, so make up your mind carefully,” Cleo informed him.

Dash gulped, and then stepped back to her side away from the table. Cleo gave him a nod of approval, and then turned her attention back to who she was talking to. Dash continued staring at the bagel out of the corner of his eye, a hunger gnawing at him **so** deeply that it was painful. 

Dash’s ribs were now sickeningly prominent when he looked in the mirror at night, but it still wasn’t enough for her. **Nothing** was ever enough for her, and Dash closed his eyes for a moment to calm himself. No, it wouldn’t do him any good to think like this.

Suddenly he heard an incredibly familiar Australian accent.

“Pardon me, Countess Cleo, but would it be possible to have a few words with Dash?”

Dash looked up and saw Crackle standing in front of Cleo, looking a bit agitated about something. Cleo gave a hard look to Crackle and then rolled her eyes with a sigh.

“If you must,” she said, “Don’t keep him for long.”

Crackle turned his eyes to Dash, and Dash felt glad to finally see a familiar face. Even an upset Crackle was better than Cleo on her **best** days. Dash offered him a slight smile, and then followed Crackle to the nearby cloakroom, confused but still glad to see him.

Crackle had been locked in the chamber without food or water again, and he knew Bellum was getting ready to execute him. He’d waited until he knew she would be busy and then pushed open the chamber door and escaped. He knew she would notice eventually, but figured he had at least a few hours. There was no turning back now, and he needed to tell Dash everything that was happening.

“Dash, you’re looking terrible,” Crackle whispered once they were alone, “Are you alright?”

“Everything is fine,” Dash assured him.

Crackle looked him up and down slowly, a frown causing his eyes to crinkle in worry. “You’ve lost so much weight. You really look sick...Are you being starved?”

“Of course not!” Dash defended, “Countess Cleo has standards, and I’m just following my orders.”

Worried brown eyes looked up at him. “Dash…”

Dash looked at Crackle carefully, and could see signs of bruises and even burns on his face and neck. It seemed Dr. Bellum was holding Crackle personally responsible for their failure to kill Carmen Sandiego.

“What is she doing to you, Graham?” Dash asked softly, his defensive tone slipping into concern.

Crackle hugged his arms to his chest and averted his eyes. “I was being re-trained,” he explained, “Dr. Bellum believes I wasn’t punished often enough the first time, and that was the cause of our failure.”

Dash glared towards the door, hating Dr. Bellum in that instant. “Graham, it wasn’t your fault.”

Crackle tensed at those words and mutely shook his head, Bellum’s constant lectures still echoing in his mind. Dash reached out and placed his hands on Crackle’s shoulders.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he repeated, “You did everything you could.”

Crackle looked up and quickly changed the subject. “I came to ask for your help.”

Dash frowned. “Help? Help with what?”

“They’re going to execute Paper Star.”

Dash’s eyes widened in shock. “What?!”

“They sent her on a mission to Tokyo, knowing full-well that there’s a hit out on her in Japan.”

“When?” Dash asked in surprise.

“She arrived in Tokyo weeks ago, and was captured the second she stepped off the plane.” Crackle explained. “The people responsible tried to ransom her to V.I.L.E, but the faculty never even bothered responding.”

“What?! I thought the faculty liked Paper Star!”

“ V.I.L.E refused to pay the ransom because they’re angry she killed Maelstrom’s assistant. Her captors then auctioned her off to some other group that are enemies to V.I.L.E. They contacted V.I.L.E and gave them a several day deadline to negotiate before they kill her. V.I.L.E are not going to help her.”

“Oh my god!” Dash exclaimed, having no idea what to say to any of that.

“There’s more,” Crackle said, clenching his fists, “You’re being tricked.”

Dash frowned and crossed his arms. “What are you talking about?”

“Cleo has been pitting you against her newest assistant, but I heard her say she’s planning to keep **both** of you. She’s doing this to make you feel indebted to her. She’s planning on announcing she chose Sterling just to mess with you. She’ll then tell you a few days later that she’ll permit you to return if you work to improve yourself. It’s all a trick to control you, and make you submissive to her abuse.”

Dash clenched his teeth, feeling a white hot fury fill him. He trusted Crackle completely and knew the other man wasn’t lying to him. Cleo was manipulating him, and he was livid. He’d been working his ass off all month, and poor Sterling nearly had a nervous breakdown over the abuse. and it was all for **nothing**. She’d played them, and they’d fallen for it.

“Bellum is planning on killing me,” Crackle informed him.

Dash looked up in alarm. “What?!”

“I overheard her tell the other faculty that she was going to euthanize me because I was no longer useful to her. She discovered the brain damage her experiments had caused, and she’s going to replace me.”

“Are you serious?!” Dash cried out, glancing towards the door. “You’ve been nothing but loyal to her!”

“She wants something with lower intelligence, and she’s going to take Henrik. She’s going to experiment on him in the same way she did with me, and everyone will be told he’s dead. She’s going to banish Sven to Russia so that he never finds out what happened to his partner.”

“Have...have you told them?” Dash asked, “What are they going to do?”

“They know,” Crackle replied, “I’m going to help them.”

Dash nodded. “But what about you, Graham? When is she planning on killing you?”

“Right now,” Crackle answered, “She has begun starving me and she’s going to feed me poison once I’m hungry enough. I escaped out of the isolation chamber she was keeping me in.”

Dash stared at him in horror. An isolation chamber?! Starvation? Poison?

“What are you going to do?” he asked in worry.

“I’m defecting,” Crackle told him, meeting his gaze directly.

Dash swallowed heavily and averted his eyes. “I understand,” he told him, “What can I do to help?”

“I need your help with Paper Star, Dash,” Crackle said plaintively, “I’ve contacted the others and we’re going to get her back. We’re leaving V.I.L.E and we’re going to rescue her. Paper Star is one of our team, and we can’t leave her to die. We’ll all fight for her. I want you to join us.”

Dash sucked in a sharp breath. Crackle was asking him to abandon his position. He was asking him to defect with the rest of them.

“Graham…”

“The others are going to meet me in Tokyo as soon as possible.” Graham then met his eyes directly. “We need you, Dash Haber. Help us save Paper Star.”

“Graham, I can’t!” Dash protested, “You’re seriously asking me to defect from V.I.L.E! They’ll kill us all for this!”

“She was one of **us** , Dash. We **can’t** let her die. Join us, and help us get her back. Come back to our team.”

Dash shook his head. “Our team doesn’t exist anymore, Graham! I’m just a courier, there’s nothing I can do!”

Crackle’s gaze was firm. “You are **not** just a courier. You are Dash Haber, the man with perfect aim, the man who can build the most amazing gadgets, the man who is smart and loyal to his team. You are so much **more** than V.I.L.E realizes, and your talents are being wasted here. No matter what V.I.L.E says, we are all connected, and we **are** a team.”

Dash gulped heavily, a tight feeling in his chest making him uncomfortable. Just those few words of encouragement and praise were enough to make tears come to Dash’s eyes, and he turned away before Crackle could see them.

“This is where I belong, Graham,” he said sadly. “I’m sorry, but I’m remaining here. I’m not abandoning V.I.L.E. I’ve worked hard to get where I am.”

“She’ll **die**, Dash.”

Dash thought of Paper Star, and although she’d never really warmed up to them, she was still part of their team. He then thought of Cleo and everything he had worked for. He had been happy as Cleo’s courier, and he was sure he would be again. He just had to work harder and he’d someday become happy.

“I’m sorry, Graham,” Dash said again, opening the door to leave. “I’m really sorry.”

“If you reconsider, we’ll be meeting at the Red Sun motel in Tokyo,” Graham called after him.

“I won’t be changing my mind,” Dash said firmly.

Dash squared his shoulders and then walked stiffly back to Cleo, trying to push all thoughts of Paper Star, and the others out of his mind. He resumed his spot behind Cleo, and pointedly ignored the sight of Graham leaving the gala. He saw the sad and almost heartbroken look on the other man’s face, but he pretended not to notice.

The more he tried to push everything out of his mind, the more he thought about it. He thought of the twins and their goofy smiles, he thought of Neal’s constant teasing, he thought of Graham’s awkward but friendly demeanor, he thought of the oddly sweet Otterman and Moose Boy, and lastly he thought of Paper Star. He thought of the sometimes sad look that entered her eyes, and he thought of all the times they had chatted or played cards together. There was more to her than she let on, and he knew she wasn’t the monster everyone believed her to be. She was just broken like the rest of them.

Dash clenched his fists. He wanted to be Cleo’s assistant again, didn’t he? Cleo had been torturing Sterling and himself for a month, and it was all for nothing. She’d been playing mind games with them both, and he’d nearly killed himself to meet her approval. He’d ruined his health for her, and his anxiety had never been worse. Did he truly want to keep living like this? Dash wasn’t so certain now, and he glanced over at the buffet table at the bagels. His stomach clenched at the sight of the food, and he felt conflicted.

Is this how he wanted to live? He loved fashion, and he loved high society, but was it actually worth it? Was it worth the pain, starvation and abuse? Dash frowned and subtly shifted his gaze to Cleo. She was a beautiful and extremely talented woman, and dozens of men had fought to be one of the select few she allowed to be her couriers. Dash had always admired her, but being part of Team Crackle showed him an entirely new world. It showed him a world of freedom he could never dream of. Again he glanced towards the bagel. No one in Team Crackle would have cared if he ate a bagel, and they had never once judged his appearance. Team Crackle provided him with a freedom he desperately craved.

Dash glanced again to Cleo and felt nothing but disgust and hatred for the woman in front of him. He’d given her 7 years of his life, and she treated him like he was nothing. The betrayal stung, and he glanced beside him at Sterling. Sterling caught his gaze and offered a smile, clearly incredibly bored with just standing around. Sterling didn’t deserve to be treated this way either. The man had tried his best, but it simply wasn’t good enough for Cleo. **Nothing** would ever be good enough. Sterling would end up destroying himself in an attempt to beat him all for the putrid prize of spending more time with Cleo.

Dash could feel his composure beginning to slip, and so he turned to walk away before Cleo noticed the fury on his face.

“Where do you think you’re going, Mr. Haber?” Cleo demanded, as he walked away.

“Bathroom,” he answered without so much as glancing back at her.

“Dash Haber!” she called after him angrily.

“Bathroom,” he called back again.

Dash ignored the scolding words she shot his way and kept walking. Entering the men’s bathroom, he gripped one of the sinks and stared into the mirror. His face was thinner, and even his makeup couldn’t hide the dark bags under his eyes. Cleo was ruining him. She wouldn’t care if he starved to death, and knew this was true. The faculty didn’t care about **any** of the operatives. They were just pawns to be used and disposed of whenever they pleased.

Dash took another breath, and knew there was no escape. He couldn’t just quit working for Cleo; she would just refuse to let him go. She wanted him here, and V.I.L.E would never let him return to being an operative. He had no choice in **anything**, and he was trapped in Cleo’s clutches. He couldn’t just leave...could he? He hated this, he hated Cleo, and he hated being trapped in this hell. 

Dash considered these thoughts carefully. Did he truly mean it? Did he hate his job that much? Dash stared into his own eyes in the mirror and could see the hate reflected back at him. Cleo truly **was** ruining him.

What could he do though? There was no way to leave Cleo’s employ. Even if he did things to displease her, she would just move him to a lesser rank, instead of getting rid of him. She enjoyed having plenty of pretty models around her, and Dash would just be another pretty face in the crowd to her. He meant nothing to her, and she would destroy him completely without an ounce of remorse.

Before he even realized he’d done it, Dash drove his fist into the mirror as hard as he could. Broken glass fell around him in a shower, and Dash stared down at his bleeding fist, still angry enough to lash out again. Even if he **wanted** to help Crackle, Dash saw no way to escape this hell. All Cleo saw was his beauty, and not the person behind it.

Dash’s gaze went down to the glass in the sink, and then he slowly picked up a long, sharp shard of glass. His pretty face was the reason he was trapped here. All Cleo cared about was surrounding herself with as many beautiful things as she could.

Dash stared into the broken mirror, his hand clutching the broken piece of glass tightly. Raising it to his face he touched it to one of his cheeks, knowing that if he was no longer perfect, Cleo would toss him aside without a second glance. One single swipe and he’d be free of her forever. One single swipe and he would never be handsome again. Dash stared at his perfect face, and his hand began to shake. One quick motion is all it would take. He would need to lose his beauty before anyone would ever see his true worth. 

He just needed to take a deep breath, close his eyes and it would all be over. 

Dash’s appearance had always meant everything to him. His whole life, his looks had set him apart from everyone else, and he was used to standing out. Dash stared at his flawless skin and perfectly shaped eyes, and hesitated. Could he really do this to himself? Could he ruin the only thing people seemed to care about? Dash frowned. No. Only **Cleo** cared what he looked like. Team Crackle saw him for who he was, and they valued and listened to him. They didn’t care if his hair or makeup were perfect; they only cared about him as a person.

He missed them; he missed his team. He missed the chaos, the fighting, and the excitement of a mission. He missed Steve. He wanted to be free of Cleo’s control so he could finally show the world what he was capable of.

Dash pressed the piece of glass a bit harder against his cheek, not hard enough to cut just yet, still trying to get the nerve. One fast slice, and all of his problems would end. He would have to make the cut uneven and as messy as possible so that it would leave a definite scar. Dash stared at his unblemished face, knowing this was the last time he was going to see himself like this. Never again would someone call him handsome.

Closing his eyes he took a deep breath, knowing that he needed to do this. His team was depending on him, and they needed him. Paper Star would die if he didn’t get to them as soon as possible.

Dash took another deep breath, and his hands began to shake even worse, and then the glass fell to the floor and shattered. Dash fell to his knees and clutched at his head, tears coming to his eyes. He was a coward, and he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t maim himself. He was a vain, and useless coward. He slammed his hand to the floor, not even noticing that he left a smear of blood behind.

It was then that the door opened and Sterling walked in. He stared at the scene that met him and his eyes widened. 

“The Countess sent me to see why you were taking so long…” he said hesitantly.

Dash stared down at the shard of glass and said nothing. Sterling slowly approached and knelt down in front of him.

“You’re not doing anything stupid in here, are you?” he demanded, kicking the glass away from Dash.

“That remains to be seen,” Dash responded, still not moving.

“You need to pull yourself together,” Sterling said, glancing towards the door. “Cleo will blame the both of us for this!”

Dash clenched his hands and felt the tears escape him. Sterling set a gentle hand on his arm, his grey eyes showing genuine concern.

“Hey come on, it’s going to be okay. Just take a few deep breaths and let’s get back out there, okay? Don’t let her get to you. You’re stronger than this, Dash Haber, and I know you’ll be fine.”

“I can’t do this anymore,” Dash admitted.

Sterling shook his head, and sat down on the floor beside him. “You’re wrong,” he told him softly, “I’ve seen how strong you are, Dash, and I know you can pull through this.”

“I don’t **want** to pull through this,” Dash responded, wiping at his eyes.

“Suicide isn’t the answer,” Sterling said firmly, “Things will get better, I promise.”

“I’m not going to commit suicide!” Dash snapped out at him.

Sterling hesitated. “You...you’re not? Then what are you talking about?”

Dash took a deep breath and looked at the man in front of him. Sterling was handsome and talented, and Dash knew he would do the job of executive assistant well. “How would you like to win this little competition of Cleo’s?” he asked.

Sterling blinked, his expression instantly puzzled. “What? What are you talking about?”

Dash met his eyes fiercely. “Do you want to be Cleo’s executive courier? I’m stepping down, and going back to being an operative.”

Sterling cocked his head, but he was clearly intrigued. “I’m willing to help you if that’s what you want. I’m listening.”

Dash gave him a soft smile. “This is what I need you to do-”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Bellum still had no idea he was wandering around the facility right now, and Crackle knew this was the moment he needed to leave. With all of Cleo’s guests for the gala, planes and helicopters were landing and taking off constantly, and Crackle knew he’d be able to escape. He had his Crackle Rod tucked into his belt, and he ran along the hallways, ignoring everyone he passed.

Exiting the compound, he squinted against the bright sun, and he took a deep breath of the fresh air as he ran. The airstrip was located just off the beach, and he headed for it, seeing dozens of planes parked and ready to be stolen.

He could see the Cleaners directing guests on where to go, and he kept them in his sights as he snuck along. He saw a large private jet on the runway and a very fancy lady was getting on board. Giving a quick glance to the Cleaners, Crackle ran for the jet, and climbed on board after the woman.

“Excuse me!” the woman said, looking Crackle up and down in disgust, “What are you doing on my plane?”

“Just doing one last maintenance check, ma’am,” Crackle replied, pulling the airstairs up and closing the door.

“Why are you closing the door?” the woman demanded, “You are disgustingly filthy and I don’t want you on my plane!”

“Just checking to make sure the door’s seal is tight,” Crackle answered, ignoring her rude comments.

Crackle glanced out the windows and it appeared that no one had noticed what he had done. 

“Is the pilot on board yet?” Crackle demanded.

“Yes, of course he is, you moron!” the woman answered, “I am going to put in a complaint about you and have you fired! I’m royalty, and you did **not** have my permission to board!”

Crackle glanced at the woman and noted the expensive clothes and fancy jewelry and knew the woman probably wasn’t lying. Due to the secret nature of V.I.L.E, only certain people were allowed to know its location, and so the woman had been brought alone for the gala.

“Why did you leave the gala early?” Crackle asked, hoping their departure wouldn’t attract attention.

“The Countess Cleo dared ignore me when I approached her! She spoke with her assistant in the middle of our conversation, and then had the nerve to continue speaking to me as if nothing happened. I will **not** tolerate this disrespect! I am leaving and I will not be coming to another one of these tacky little galas!”

Crackle nodded, knowing that no one would be missing this woman anytime soon. Pulling out his crackle rod, he shocked her as she let out a scream of surprise. He watched the woman drop to the floor unconscious and then he headed for the pilot.

“What was that?” the pilot asked when he entered the cockpit. “Are you part of the maintenance staff?” 

Crackle placed the crackle rod against the man’s head. “You are going to take off and pretend there’s nothing wrong or I **will** electrocute you. Say **nothing** to V.I.L.E’s air traffic control, and pretend everything is fine.”

The Pilot stared up at him in surprise, and then mutely nodded. Ducking behind the pilot’s seat, Crackle kept the crackle rod pressed to the man’s ribs as the ignition was turned on. The pilot spoke normally with air traffic control, and then they waited for permission to take off. The pilot was sweating bullets, and Crackle hoped the Cleaners wouldn’t decide to search the plane. Crackle waited in silence for nearly ten minutes until they were given the okay to take off. As the plane began to move, Crackle remained tense until they were in the air. When they were finally clear of V.I.L.E’s airspace, he relaxed and let out a breath of relief. He’d actually managed to escape. He was a free man.

“Are you going to kill me?” the pilot asked worriedly, glancing over his shoulder at him.

“Not if you do everything I say.” Crackle promised, “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

The Pilot gave a slow nod. “Wh-where do you want to go?”

“Tokyo.”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

“Countess!” Sterling bellowed, drawing everyone’s attention to him as he burst out of the bathroom.

The crowds began murmuring as Sterling ran across the ballroom, his hair mussed, and blood on his sleeves.

Cleo’s cheeks coloured at the way he was acting in front of her guests. “You will lower your voice and speak in a civilized manner!” she scolded angrily, “How **dare** you behave in this manner!”

“But Countess!”

“**Hush**!” she snapped, “Where is Dash Haber?”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you!” Sterling exclaimed, gesturing wildly. “Someone attacked him in the bathroom! There’s blood **everywhere**!”

Cleo let out a sigh. “Oh?” she questioned.

Sterling nodded. “He’s hurt really badly, and I think he needs a hospital!”

Cleo rolled her eyes. “Leave it to Dash Haber to get beaten up the second he’s out of my sight. Honestly, why I tolerate him is beyond me.”

“Countess, someone sliced his face up! He looks like a monster!”

This caused Cleo to stop short and look up in alarm. “**What**?!”

“Someone gouged his face with a knife! His entire face is messed up!”

Cleo glanced to the bathroom in alarm just as Dash came out. Blood covered his suit and he had a hand clapped to his face as he staggered across the ballroom. The entire ballroom went dead silent at the sight of him, and Cleo’s eyes widened in absolute horror at the spectacle he was making. Once Dash stood in front of her, he removed his hand from his face, and Cleo gasped in absolute disgust. A horrific gash covered most of Dash’s face, and several guests screamed at the sight of him.

Dash said nothing, and simply stood there for a few seconds staring straight at Cleo, expression unreadable. 

“Dash Haber!” Cleo exclaimed in horror, “Look at your face! You’re hideous!”

Dash raised a hand to his face, and still seemed a little off. “Apologies, Countess,” he replied.

Then, without another word, he turned towards the buffet table, grabbed a sesame seed bagel, carefully sliced it in half, and then slathered it in a thick layer of cream cheese. Blood was dripping everywhere as he did so, and the once perfect buffet table now looked like it was out of a horror show. Dash then turned, and while maintaining direct eye contact with Cleo, he took a large bite out of the bagel.

Cleo gaped at him, unable to react right away, and Dash then turned to leave the room, taking the bagel with him.

Cleo stared after him in disgust and horror, and finally found her voice.

“You are **fired** , Dash Haber! Get your disgusting face out of my sight! Leave and don’t you dare **ever** return! Out! **Out**!”

Dash said nothing and simply pushed through the doors to leave. Munching on the bagel as he walked, he felt a deep sense of accomplishment, and was proud of himself. He owed Sterling big time for being willing to help him, and Dash knew he’d someday repay the favour. Heading up the tower stairs to his private quarters, he entered the bathroom, and then turned on the sink. Splashing water on his face, he peeled the wax, makeup and fake blood off his face and began cleaning himself up. 

Sterling was truly talented at makeup, and he knew everyone had been fooled. No one had even noticed when Sterling had run to get the supplies to help him, and he doubted they’d look into this any closer. Cleo would not be asking for Dash’s return ever again. He really owed Sterling, and hoped the other man survived being Cleo’s assistant.

Dash smiled at his flawless reflection, and then turned to go pack his belongings. He had a plane to catch to Tokyo.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**The next chapter is also going to be ALL Team Crackle.**

**I'm going to do my best to get the new chapter out in two weeks by the May 30th at the absolute latest. **

**A huge thank you to the super-talented artist who did artwork for this chapter!**

**Violetfic did the awesome two pics of Sterling and Crackle**

**Coulrosaurus did the awesome pic of Dash**

**Credit for the names of Otterman and Moose Boy go to Animedemon01**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**

**Please don't forget to let me know what you think! **


	26. Death By A Thousand Paper Cuts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone!
> 
> Another super long chapter for you guys! This time it's over 26k words which makes it the longest chapter in the entire story so far!
> 
> This chapter is incredibly dark compared to previous chapters and please read the warning below before proceeding.
> 
> WARNING!!!!
> 
> WARNING!!!!
> 
> READ THIS WARNING!!!!
> 
> This chapter contains extreme acts of violence/torture and cannon character death. If this is at all triggering for you, you may want to give this chapter a skip. Next chapter will not be dark or violent.
> 
> An enormous thank you to the very awesome Violetfic and Coulrosaurus for offering plenty of good suggestions, and for being my betas! You guys really helped improve this chapter and you're awesome!
> 
> Please note that Dr. Vess and Michael Jr. both use the F-word extremely frequently in their everyday speech. You have been warned.
> 
> If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 26**

**Death by a Thousand Paper Cuts**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**.**

**.**

“Paper Star is being stationed in Japan.”

There was an instant icy feeling of dread, and Paper Star heard nothing else being said. The words buzzed around her unintelligibly, and she crushed down the emotions that were threatening to force their way out.

Feel nothing.

Feel nothing.

Paper Star knew she was likely going to die the moment she heard Mal Evolence’s words. It had been like a punch to the gut, and had taken her completely by surprise. She’d been under the impression that if Team Crackle ever disbanded, she’d once again be a solo operative. She thought she was valuable enough to be protected from her enemies, but clearly she’d been wrong. She knew V.I.L.E hated her bad habit of killing people, but she’d almost always succeeded in her missions and she believed that was all that mattered.

There were other Japanese operatives that could have been used, but V.I.L.E’s decision to use her showed how little they actually cared for her safety. All of these thoughts flashed through her mind as Mal Evolence spoke, and before she knew it, the man was lying dead at her feet. Paper Star wasn’t dumb, and she knew she had severely stepped over the line. She had killed another operative in cold blood, and there was no forgiving this. If her mission didn’t kill her, then V.I.L.E definitely would. She had no doubts that she had just sealed her own fate.

When the Cleaners took her down, she felt a deep sense of despair as the sedatives took hold. She didn’t want to die, and she didn’t want to allow this to happen. Unable to do anything about it, she lost consciousness, her team staring at her in horror.

When Paper Star regained consciousness, she was aboard a V.I.L.E plane by herself. Glancing around at the completely empty plane, she rubbed her throbbing head, and slowly got to her feet. She was a bit surprised over the fact the Cleaners hadn’t escorted her, and she looked out one of the windows to see where she was. Nothing but clouds were below the plane and so she knew they were still a long ways from their destination.

Paper Star narrowed her eyes, and turned her attention to the cockpit, wondering who her pilot was. Having every intention of forcing the man to alter their course, she began making her way towards the front of the plane. Still feeling a bit dizzy, she gripped the seats as she walked up the aisle, trying to clear her mind. The door to the cockpit was closed and when she tried the handle, it was locked. Peering through the tiny window in the door, she saw the pilot was reading a book, the plane obviously in autopilot for the time being. Paper Star knocked on the door, and the pilot looked up, the woman’s eyes betraying her fear. Paper Star smiled sweetly and beckoned the pilot over with a crooked finger, but the pilot immediately refused and shook her head.

Paper Star scowled and reached down to her belt, and quickly realized her pouch of paper was missing. Paper Star glanced all around, but didn’t see anything she could use as a weapon. V.I.L.E had left her helpless. She would have to depend on her hand-to-hand combat. She glared at the pilot, knowing there was nothing she could do for now. Turning away from the door, she began searching for anything at all she could use to defend herself.

“ **Good morning, Paper Star,** ” came Roundabout’s voice across the plane’s speakers.

Paper Star looked up towards the camera and didn’t respond.

“ **I suppose you must be wondering why you are being sent to Tokyo for this mission,** ” Roundabout said, his tone sounding polite but also a little bit awkward.

Paper Star still said nothing.

“ **You will find an information packet on seat F13,** ” Roundabout informed her, “ **Open the packet and I will explain.** ”

Paper Star glared up at the camera for a moment, but then turned to find seat F13. Sure enough there was a thick beige envelope waiting for her, and she smiled, now having paper she could use as a weapon. Opening the envelope, the smile immediately dropped away at what she found.

“ **You have been chosen because of your knowledge of the target. We understand this is risky for you, but you’re the only one who can get close to the target. Your mission is to take him down at all costs.** ”

Paper Star stared at the photograph of the middle aged man in silence, her expression completely indifferent. It was her father.

“ **If my sources are correct, there is no love lost between the two of you,** ” Roundabout commented, “ **As the only heir to the Hinode Empire you are in a unique position to get close to the target. Lady Dokuso will be waiting at the airport for you, and she will assist in any way she can to ensure Eikichi Hinode is eliminated.** ”

Paper Star was silent as she flipped through the information she was given. It seemed that the Hinode Empire had betrayed V.I.L.E to one of their competitors The Void. They had caused V.I.L.E to lose over 100 million Euros in profit from the sale of military grade titanium, so they were going to cut ties with the Hinode Empire in the most dramatic way possible. Once her father was dead, V.I.L.E wanted her, as the heir, to assign Lady Dokuso to run the empire. V.I.L.E would then have control over the largest criminal syndicate in Japan.

“ **We have contacted your father and explained that you wish to have a meeting with him to discuss your return to the Hinode Syndicate.** ”

“You were ill-informed,” Paper Star stated, glancing up from the paperwork. “The only thing you have done is ensure my death.”

“ **I beg your pardon?** ” Roundabout demanded, sounding a little bit offended.

“I was disowned when I was sent to V.I.L.E academy,” Paper Star explained, “My father is the one who told me I would be killed on sight if I ever returned to Japan. He would  **never** trust me enough to allow me anywhere near him. He’s not an idiot and he knows this is a trick.”

Roundabout went silent for a few moments, and she could hear him typing on his computer. ** “I have no record of you being disowned,** ” he finally replied, “ **Your father still has you listed as the sole beneficiary for everything he owns.** ”

Paper Star’s eyes widened in surprise. It had been two years, why hadn’t he officially disowned her? This didn’t make sense.

“ **Your father seemed willing to speak with you, and so take advantage of this, and take him down. You will be searched for weapons, and so keep a few pieces of paper with you at all times. You’ll notice that there are several blank pieces of paper in that packet. If they confiscate the paper, you’ll have to find another way to eliminate him.** ”

Paper Star went silent as she stared down at the picture of her father. After everything she had done, he still hadn’t disowned her. He had been  **so** ashamed and angry the day he sent her away, that there had been no question in her mind that he had written her off. She crumpled his picture up in her fist, and dropped it to the floor. Her father was weak, and this mistake would be his downfall. If he was stupid enough to fall for this trick, then that was his problem.

“ **Read through the information carefully,** ” Roundabout instructed, “ **It tells you what to say to your father in regards to the V.I.L.E betrayal. All relevant information is there.** ”

Paper Star glanced towards the nearest window. “Where am I right now?” she asked.

“ **About an hour from Tokyo,** ” Roundabout replied, “ **Study that paperwork, and then leave it behind once the plane lands. Do you have any questions?** ”

Paper Star shook her head. If her father really was willing to meet with her, perhaps she’d actually survive this mission?

“ **Very good,** ” Roundabout said, “ **Good luck on your mission. Don’t disappoint us.** ”

Paper Star sat down in one of the empty seats, and began flipping through the information carefully. She still had severe doubts this would work, but knew she had no other choice. Lady Dokuso was incredibly talented at her job, and it was unlikely Paper Star would be able to escape this mission without getting caught. She had no choice but to walk into the lion’s den.

Humming tunelessly to herself as she read, she pushed aside all emotions until she felt nothing at all. She felt completely empty, and that was the way it had to be. Feeling nothing was far better than being held back by sentiment. Life was nothing but disappointment and pain, and Paper Star had long ago found a way to survive it. Never again would she allow herself to be controlled and manipulated in such an easy way. She would kill Eikichi Hinode, and she would feel nothing.

When the plane landed, Paper Star watched out the window, the familiar sight of the city feeling anything but welcoming. Setting aside the information packet, Paper Star folded the blank pieces of paper and placed them into her pocket to be used later. The plane touched down, and Paper Star continued staring out the window, keeping an eye out for anything that didn’t seem right. The plane came to a stop in front of the terminal, and Paper Star didn’t move, watching out the window suspiciously.

“ **The plane has landed, and the door is now going to open,** ” the pilot’s voice announced over the intercom, “ **Good luck on your mission.** ”

Getting up from her seat, Paper Star approached the door, and sure enough, it popped open on its own. The airstairs unfolded themselves and lowered down, and Paper Star popped her head out of the plane, looking for signs of an ambush. There were a few cars picking up passengers from other private jets, but no one was anywhere near her plane. As she carefully looked around, her gaze fell on Lady Dokuso who was waiting for her outside of the terminal. 

Slowly walking down the stairs, she stepped onto the tarmac, and exuded self-confidence as she smiled serenely and began making her way over to the older woman.

“ **こんにちは,** ” Lady Dokuso greeted formally.

Paper Star said nothing, simply humming the same tuneless song to herself as she approached. Just as she neared Lady Dokuso, a black car suddenly drove in-between them, causing Paper Star to come to an abrupt halt. Before she even had time to react, three men jumped out of the car and seized her by the arms and legs, and then yanked her into the car. As the car sped off, Lady Dokuso stared after them in shock. She then let out a deep sigh. Well, so much for Paper Star.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Paper Star didn’t bother struggling once they had her in the car, and knew this was her father’s doing. Of  **course** he wouldn’t trust her to just show up at his office building. He was a very paranoid man, and he would expect V.I.L.E to betray him. The fact the men hadn’t knocked her unconscious or drugged her showed that her father really  **was** willing to speak with her.

There was complete silence during the car ride and Paper Star simply stared straight ahead, watching the familiar streets go by feeling a little nostalgic. She wondered what had happened to her old gang and whether there were any still alive. Her father had despised them, and she wouldn’t doubt that he’d had them all killed. 

When they pulled up to her father’s main office building, she was yanked out of the car harshly, but she didn’t resist. She played the meek captive, and allowed herself to be led into the building without protest. The men ushered her off to one side away from prying eyes, and then hit the button for the executive elevator.

The businessmen that milled about in the lobby didn’t pay them any attention, and once the elevator arrived, Paper Star was pulled inside out of view. Once the doors closed, she was immediately searched for any weapons. They opened the papers she had in her pocket, and when they saw they were blank, they tossed them to the floor and continued their search. When they found nothing on her person, Paper Star knelt down to pick up the papers. The men eyed her warily, but she said nothing and simply put the papers back in her pocket.

The elevator went up and up, and Paper Star remembered riding this elevator hundreds of times as a little girl. Every single day after school she would ride this elevator to her father’s office and then quietly do her homework until he finished work for the day. It felt like an eternity since she’d been here, but it had only been two years.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened to reveal her father’s outer offices. She glanced at the little table in the corner of the room, remembering the countless hours she had spent there studying and simply waiting. Turning her gaze straight ahead, she followed the men towards her father’s private office. One of the men knocked on the door, and then waited.

“ **入る,** ” came a very familiar voice from inside.

The men ushered Paper Star inside and for the first time in years, she laid eyes on her father. He sat behind his large desk by the windows, his fingers steepled as he watched her approach. 

[[You may leave us,]] he ordered the men.

The men didn’t question him at all and they backed out of the room without hesitation. The second the door clicked closed, Eikichi Hinode looked his daughter up and down slowly.

[[You look absolutely ridiculous,]] he commented, [[You look like a clown. You bring shame upon the Hinode name, Shiko.]]

Paper Star said nothing.

Eikichi let out a deep sigh and then waved a hand towards the chair in front of his desk. [[Sit down,]] he ordered.

Paper Star approached and slowly sank down into the chair, purposely sitting in the most unladylike way she could manage. Eikichi seemed annoyed by her behaviour, but he didn’t comment on it.

[[So V.I.L.E has sent you back to me,]] he stated, [[Failed in that as well, have you?]]

[[V.I.L.E is cutting ties with the Hinode Empire,]] she replied calmly, [[I did not wish to be an enemy to my own father.]]

Eikichi looked skeptical. [[You hate me,]] he pointed out.

Paper Star shook her head. [[Of course I don’t,]] she answered, [[I was angry and bitter, but I never hated you. I should have handled things better than I did.]]

[[I would  **almost** think you had finally matured, but by the look of you, you’re still a foolish child.]]

Paper Star pushed her anger aside knowing it wouldn’t do any good. She had to remain calm and collected. [[I wanted to apologize to you for my actions, and ask that you take me back. I want to return home. I missed you.]]

Eikichi’s gaze softened a bit and he let out another deep sigh, crossing his arms. [[Do you really mean these words, or are you simply telling me what I want to hear?]] he demanded, [[You tried to kill me the last time you and I spoke face to face.]]

Paper Star met his gaze directly, her face a blank slate. [[I deeply regretted it,]] she said, [[I let my anger cloud my judgement, and it poisoned my heart. V.I.L.E helped me overcome that, and now I finally understand.]]

Eikichi raised a brow in question. [[Oh?]]

[[She needed to die.]] Paper Star replied, [[It was what was best for the company, and there was no other way. She dug her own grave the day she betrayed you.]]

Eikichi seemed genuinely shocked to hear these words come out of her mouth and he leaned forward, eyes searching her face.

[[Don’t forget that you also betrayed me, Shiko.]]

Paper Star nodded in acknowledgment. [[I was a foolish child,]] she replied, [[A grieving little girl who didn’t completely understand the situation. I have done a lot of growing while I was with V.I.L.E, and now I see that you had no other choice. She would have ruined you, and I too would have been at risk. You protected our family in the only way you could.]]

Eikichi scratched at his chin, his eyes narrowed as he stared at his daughter. [[And if I allow you to return, what will you do?]]

[[I will become the daughter you always wanted,]] Paper Star replied, [[I will stop fighting you, I will enroll into university and get the business degree you planned for me, and I will marry the man you choose for me. I will make you proud of me.]]

Eikichi still seemed skeptical, but there was also something else lurking in his eyes. It almost looked like desperate hope, but Paper Star couldn’t be certain.

[[I never disowned you, Shiko,]] he informed her, [[I always held hope you would someday return to me. You’re the only child I’ll ever have, and so my hopes for the future lie with you. I have a feeling you’re not being completely honest with me, but I’ll be willing to discuss the possibility of your return.]]

Paper Star stared at her father, and felt nothing but immense hatred for the man in front of her. He offered her a smile and it made her want to vomit. Eikichi Hinode was a weak and gullible idiot. She honestly didn’t think it would be this easy to gain his trust.

[[I will do anything you want,]] Paper Star told him, [[But please don’t send me back to V.I.L.E. I can’t work for anyone that are enemies of the Hinodes. They will likely kill me if I return, since they would never be able to fully trust me. My life is completely in your hands.]]

Eikichi stared at her in silence, and again looked her up and down. [[Well, the first thing we’re going to do is get rid of that ridiculous hair. We’ll have it dyed and cut into a more normal haircut, and then we’ll get rid of those hideous clothes. I won’t have my daughter looking like some sort of carnival freak!]]

Paper Star tensed and closed her eyes as she pushed down another wave of anger. Her father hated anything even slightly different than the norm and so he’d never accepted anything about Paper Star. Paper Star was too strong, too smart, too independent, and far too different for his liking. He had a mould that she simply didn’t fit. She’d tried to fit that mould for her entire childhood, but the day her father did the unspeakable act, was the day that she stopped caring. Paper Star didn’t want to fit in, she didn’t want to be normal, and she certainly didn’t want to settle for a life of mediocrity. 

[[Are you still suitable for a proper marriage?]] Eikichi asked with a frown, [[I need to know this so I know what sort of man to match you with. Be honest because you will be getting a physical at the doctor’s. I won’t be mad, I promise.]]

Paper Star gritted her teeth. He was asking if she was still a virgin. As a daughter, her only value was her uterus. If he married her to a man of his choosing, he would then wait for a grandson that would someday take over the company when he died. Paper Star would only ever inherit the company if he died before she married.

Paper Star clenched her hands into fists. She knew Eikichi did love her, but he would never see any true value in her, only what she could do for him. His love was only a weakness that she could exploit. He didn’t see her as a real threat, and he would never understand how much she despised him.

[Shiko?]] Eikichi questioned, [[Your silence is answer enough. You don’t have to worry about anyone finding out, I’ll find a suitable match for you.]]

[[I learned many things in the V.I.L.E academy,]] Paper Star said, looking up.

Eikichi was taken a bit off-guard, and he blinked at her in confusion. [[Oh?]]

[[One of my instructors was Japanese and he taught many ancient customs.]]

[[Very nice,]] Eikichi said dismissively.

Paper Star pulled the paper out of her pocket and Eikichi suddenly tensed. She held the paper up and then offered him a very slight smile.

[[My favourite thing that I learned while studying at the academy was origami,]] she told him.

Eikichi sucked in a deep breath. [[...like your mother.]] he said softly.

Paper Star began folding the paper as Eikichi watched her, a pained look in his eyes. A few seconds later, Paper Star set a perfect swan on the edge of his desk. He stared at it for a few seconds and said nothing, seemingly struggling to find the words. Paper Star folded her next piece of paper and then set an origami flower beside the swan.

[[They’re beautiful,]] Eikichi said with a grimace, [[You have a talent for it like your mother…]]

Paper Star set down a dragon next. [[Oh no,]] she corrected, her smile going even sweeter, [[My talents for origami have far surpassed mother’s.]]

She set down a delicate looking origami ballerina next.

Eikichi nodded, seeing the talent in the origami. [[I suppose you’re right,]] he acknowledged, [[Finally you found a calm and gentle hobby that is suitable to someone in your position.]]

Paper Star began folding her last piece of paper. [[Oh, I don’t know about that,]] she replied calmly, [[Mother used to do origami wherever she was upset at you. She channeled her anger into it and would fold dozens upon dozens of different shapes. Origami was never calm and gentle for me either, it was a hobby of hatred and patience.]]

Eikichi frowned at her. [[What is this nonsense you’re talking about?]] he asked, [[I thought you were going to try improving yourself?]]

[[I  **am** going to improve myself,]] Paper Star replied, a finished star in her hand, [[I’m improving my life by getting rid of  **you** !]]

She threw the star as hard as she could, and to her shock it passed right through her father’s head and stuck into the back of the chair deeply. The image of her father flickered for a moment and she saw a beam of light projecting from under the desk and her eyes widened. Eikichi let out a deep and resigned sigh.

[[This is what I thought,]] he said in defeat, [[You’ll  **never** change, and you’ll never be more than anything but a blight on our family name. You belong to V.I.L.E now, and you never should have returned.]]

The door suddenly opened and the men from before stepped in with guns drawn. Paper Star leapt across the desk reaching for the Paper Star, but they fired before she could reach it. Several sharp stabs of pain exploded in her back, and she fell to the floor as she gasped. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw three darts sticking out of her back. Getting up to her knees, she again reached for the star, but the men shot her again, this time in the chest. As the drugs coursed through her, she tried to fight it, but her entire body suddenly felt like it was full of concrete. 

She stumbled and fell back onto the floor and this time she couldn’t get back up. Just as her vision began going black, she saw her father step into the room.

[[Contact V.I.L.E and we’ll try to ransom her back to them,]] he ordered, [[Shiko is dead, and I no longer have a daughter. If V.I.L.E doesn't want her, then sell her to the highest bidder. I no longer care what happens to her.]]

Paper Star then lost consciousness.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Paper Star was kept in a state of constant sedation, and she briefly regained consciousness several times, and she caught glimpses of a dusty warehouse, and the men who guarded her, before she was shot with another dart. She had no idea how long in total she had been unconscious, but when she awoke again, she was alone. Rubbing her throbbing head, she quickly realized she was absolutely starving and thirstier than she’d ever been. 

Blinking tiredly, she glanced around and saw she was in a small metal cage in a dark room filled with expensive looking objects. Paper Star saw there was an I.V in her arm but the bag was empty which explained why she was so thirsty. How long had she been left alone?

Her gaze settled on the bottle of water and she grabbed it up without hesitation. Unscrewing the cap, she downed the entire bottle, and instantly felt better. She stared down at the bowl of rice that had been left for her, and by the amount of mold on the surface, she figured it had been there for a few days. Pushing the fuzzy rice out of the cage, she reached a hand through the bars and touched the massive padlock that held the cage closed.

Reaching up to her hair for a pin, she realized her captors had already thought of that and hair was down. They had taken most of her clothes and she was in nothing but her undershirt and leggings. She had no way to escape.

The small room was hot and stuffy, and the objects around her appeared to be antiques. To her trained eye, she realized there were millions of dollars worth of valuables in the room. Was this a storage room of some sort? Why would her father leave her in a storage room? Is this where he was honestly planning on keeping her?

Rubbing her throbbing head, Paper Star leaned against the bars, having no idea what was going to be done with her. Why didn’t they just kill her? Why leave her alive when she was an obvious threat? 

The hours dragged by slowly, and Paper Star found she was sleeping more and more just to pass the time. Her stomach ached from hunger, and she was beginning to wonder if she was being left here to die. Slowly dying of hunger and dehydration was a cowardly way to kill someone, and she wouldn’t put it past her father to do it. He’d always been a weakling when it came to her, and she was beginning to doubt he had it in him to do the deed himself. 

When she heard the sound of a door unlocking, she hurriedly sat up. The room was flooded with light and she held a hand up to shield her eyes as a man crossed the room towards her.

The man knelt down beside the cage and then reached inside to remove the empty water bottle. As quick as lightning Paper Star grabbed the man by the arm in an attempt to overpower him. The man jerked his arm back and Paper Star’s forehead smashed against the metal bars of the cage, but she didn’t let go, instead sinking her teeth into his arm. The man let out a howl of pain, and Paper Star yanked back his arm, smashing his face into the bars as hard as she could. There was a sickening crunch as his nose broke, and he began screaming as he clutched at his face, blood pouring out of his nose. Paper Star reached for the keys on his belt, and was just unlatching them as the door opened.

Two men entered and when they saw what was happening, they ran to help the guard get away from Paper Star. She refused to let go and dug her nails into the bite wound, eliciting a high-pitched shriek from the man. One of the men slammed a baton down as hard as he could on Paper Star’s arms, and she let out a cry of pain when she felt the bone crack. Releasing her hold on the man, the others dragged him away from her, and then helped the man out of the room, none of them having spoken a single word to her. 

Paper Star clutched at her broken arm in agony, cursing angrily to herself. They had broken her dominant arm, and now it would be difficult to fold origami and also difficult to throw. Paper Star didn’t have to wait long, and a few minutes later, three men entered the room. They were wearing different uniforms than the others and they were’t Japanese. She narrowed her eyes at them, wondering how they were connected with her father.

“Alright, let’s just get this over with,” one of the men grumbled, “This is going to take forever.”

To Paper Star’s surprise, the men didn’t approach her cage, they instead began going through the valuables around her, tagging everything with a number and writing down the item on their clipboard. They chatted with each other as they worked, and none of them spared her so much as a glance. They took pictures of every item, and after two hours of tagging and documenting, they finally turned towards her cage.

“Okay, tag her with a number,” one of the men ordered.

The man with the wooden tags approached the cage and then began digging through the box of tags, looking for the right one. Paper Star watched as he looped the tag through a metal band, and then he attached it to one of the bars. The other two men stared for a moment and then the leader of the group sighed and then rolled his eyes.

“Oh, very mature, Bill,” he commented, “What are you, twelve?”

The man, Bill, grinned sheepishly, but he didn’t respond. The leader then reached over and grabbed the paperwork that hung from the cage.

“Japanese female, age 21, 155cm tall, 46kg, perfect health. Name: Shiko Hinode, daughter of Eikichi Hinode of Hinode Industries, status disowned. V.I.L.E operative, codename Paper Star, specializes in deadly origami throwing stars. Starting bid suggested at $1,000,000 USD.”

The three men then turned and continued tagging the rest of the valuables, still not saying a word to her. Paper Star glanced up at the wooden tag with a frown. Her father was selling her off. He’d actually disowned her. A small part of her had doubted his words, but it was clear he’d made good on his threat. Closing her eyes for a moment, she leaned against the bars of the cage. She had failed in her mission, and she doubted V.I.L.E were planning on rescuing her. She could only depend on herself as usual, and she saw no immediate way to escape. If Paper Star was  **anything** , it was patient, and she knew she would just have to wait for her opportunity. She would either escape or die trying. She would never allow herself to be sold off like some sort of farm animal.

Paper Star said nothing at all while the men worked around her, and when they left, she was once again bathed in darkness. Although hungry and thirsty, she ignored it and instead focused on conserving her energy. A few hours later the door opened again, and the guard she’d bitten entered. He gave her a fearful look and hung back out of her reach.

[[Food and water,]] he told her, setting a bottle of water and a bento box about five feet away from the bars of the cage. He then used his foot to push them within her reach.

He then turned and hurried from the room without another word. Paper Star waited until the door closed before she reached through the bars for the food. Opening the water, she drank half of it in one giant gulp, and then opened the bento box to see what was inside. It was a pretty basic fare, and likely from a corner store, but Paper Star didn’t care, breaking apart the chopsticks one-handed, and began eating, not certain when her next meal would be. Finishing every bit of it, she tossed the empty box out of the cage, and once again closed her eyes. She would keep the water rationed in case she wasn’t provided any more. 

If they were tagging the items to be auctioned, she knew the auction must be pretty soon. All she needed was to be patient, and her chance would come. She held her broken arm against her chest, the pain a little more tolerable if she didn’t try to move it. She napped off and on for a while, but eventually she found herself unable to sleep and feeling incredibly agitated. The cage was too small for her to stand, and she was stiff and sore from remaining in the same position for too long.

Stretching the best she could in the tiny space, Paper Star had every intention of taking down as many of her father’s men as she could. Perhaps she would die, perhaps she would escape, but either way there was going to be blood.

Eventually the door opened and several men entered and began carrying the valuables out. Paper Star watched them silently, and over the next couple hours, they carried the items out in batches. When they finally got to her, they approached the cage cautiously, clearly not wanting her to grab them. Paper Star knew she would not be able to escape if she attacked, and so she remained docile as they hefted the cage up. They carried it out of the room, and she saw they were in some sort of fancy mansion. 

The men carried her down a long hallway and then through a doorway onto a stage. Paper Star stared out at the few hundred or so people seated in the auditorium, and she narrowed her eyes. The people were all clearly incredibly wealthy, and she had no doubts that each and every one of them were criminals.

“And now item number 69!” the auctioneer announced, glancing down at his item card, “A beautiful Japanese girl, age 21, 155cm tall, 46kg, and in perfect health. Her name is Shiko Hinode, daughter of Eikichi Hinode of Hinode Industries, but she has been disowned due to attempted patricide. She is a V.I.L.E operative, codename Paper Star, and she specializes in deadly origami throwing stars. A valuable fighter for those who wish to add her to their ranks, or a delicate beauty for those looking for a companion. Starting bid is $1,000,000 USD. Do I have $1,000,000?”

An older man held up his bidding card without hesitation. His expression was leering, and Paper Star gave him a murderous look in reply.

“Number 267 has bid $1,000,000! Do I have $1,250,000?”

A second man lifted his bidding sign. This man also had a leering expression on his face that made Paper Star’s skin crawl.

“Number 421 has bid $1,250,000! Do I have 1.5?”

The first man glared over at the second and raised his sign again.

“267! Do I have 2 million?”

The second man raised his sign. “5 million!”

“A very nice bid from 421! Do I have 6?”

The first man grimaced and didn’t raise his sign again.

“A very rare girl, I assure you!” the auctioneer shouted, “Never has such a vicious little thing been sold here! She has the guards terrified of her! A valuable addition to any syndicate! Come on, she’s a steal at 6 million! Do I have 6 million?”

No one else moved.

“6 million? No one for 6 million?”

No one bid.

“Very well, this is your loss. Going once for 5 million, going twice for 5 million-”

The doors in the back of the room opened and the person who entered immediately raised their sign. The person was dressed in an incredibly bizarre costume, and Paper Star stared at them as they walked down the aisle towards the stage. They were dressed like a 17th century plague doctor, wearing a black cloak, and an odd bird-like mask covered their head. The person was of average height, and Paper Star couldn’t tell if they were a man or a woman, the cloak making their body completely shapeless.

“6 million from number 500!” the auctioneer shouted, “Do I have 7?”

421 stared at the Plague Doctor in disgust and raised their sign to bid again.

“421 bids 7 million! Do I have 8-”

He didn’t even get a chance to finish before the Plague Doctor raised their sign again.

“500 bids 8! Do I have 9?”

“10 million!” 421 shouted out, shooting the Plague Doctor a triumphant look.

“421 bids 10 million!” the auctioneer cried out in delight, “Do I hear 12 million?”

The Plague Doctor cocked their head as they stared at 421 for a long moment, and then they reached into the pocket of the cloak to search for something.

“No one for 12 million? Come on, do I hear 12 million?”

The Plague Doctor held up their sign and Paper Star saw they had written 20 million below their number.

“20 million!” the auctioneer yelled out, shocked at the amount, “500 bids 20 million! A very good bid for such a special young lady! Do I hear 25 million?”

421 seemed furious, and sat down, crossing his arms against his chest.

“25? Anyone for 25? 421? 25?”

421 shook their head, and didn’t raise their sign.

“Alright, 20 million going once…”

No one moved.

“20 million going twice…”

Still no one made any effort to bid.

The auctioneer slammed down his gavel. “SOLD to bidder 500 for 20 million! Once payment has been received after the auction concludes, you may collect your item.”

The Plague Doctor didn’t say a single word, simply turning and walking back out of the auditorium. Paper Star knew the person was definitely  **not** just a rich pervert and wondered if he (she?) was part of V.I.L.E. She’d never heard of a Plague Doctor operative, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one. Perhaps V.I.L.E actually valued her more than she thought?

She was carried off the stage, and once again she was placed back in a room full of valuables. Someone attached a tag to the outside of the cage and once they were gone, she reached through the bars and flipped the tag over so she could read it.

‘ **Sold to bidder 500: The Void, Plague Doctor, 20 million** ’

The Void? So it wasn’t V.I.L.E who bought her? Who were The Void? She’d never heard of them before. Frowning, she let go of the tag, and adjusted herself into a more comfortable position. Why would they bid so much for her? Did they want her to work for them? Paper Star cocked her head as she considered that. Did she  **want** to leave V.I.L.E?

She’d been forced to join them, and she’d honestly hated being under someone else’s authority. She craved freedom, and that was something she’d fought for her entire life. She enjoyed being a thief, and she enjoyed fighting, but she held no loyalty to V.I.L.E just as she would hold no loyalty to whoever The Void were. She would escape and kill anyone who tried to stop her.

She didn’t have to wait long this time, and soon several men entered the room. To Paper Star’s fury, one of the men was holding a tranquilizer gun.

“Sedate her and then chain her,” one of the men ordered, “The buyer doesn’t want her awake.”

The man with the gun approached the bars of the cage and then took aim at her. He shot a dart, but Paper Star was fast and she caught it before it reached her, and she stabbed it deeply into the man’s hand. The man let out a howl of pain, and fell back as he yanked out the dart. Within seconds he was unconscious on the floor.

The other men stared for a moment and then one of them let out a curse. “I hope The Void know what they’re doing buying this psycho!”

“They have a habit of collecting odd characters, so I believe they know  **exactly** what they’re doing!” the other man replied, “Although it was Plague Doctor who bid on her and not Matryoshka ...who knows what that weirdo is planning!”

“I didn’t even know he was  **allowed** to bid on things.”

“Isn’t Plague Doctor a woman?”

“No, I don’t think so… Oh hell, who cares. Either way, they’re a weirdo.”

One of the men knelt down and picked up the dart gun and then approached the cage. He shot a dart at her, but Paper Star caught it and flung it at his face. He barely moved in time, and it zipped past his ear as he ducked away.

“Stop doing that!” the man snarled, straightening back up, “None of this is our fault, so stop trying to take it out on us! We’re just labourers, and our job is loading you onto the back of the truck! We didn’t kidnap you, we didn’t put you in that cage, and we don’t have the key to let you out!”

Paper Star met his gaze directly, her expression completely blank and he backed up a step.

“I am not paid enough for this,” he muttered to himself.

He then turned and left the room, his partner hurrying after them. Paper Star stared at the unconscious man they left behind and reached an arm through the bars of the cage to see if she could reach him. Her fingers could just brush his pant leg and she stretched out her good arm as far as it could go and she closed her hands on the fabric. Dragging him towards her, she did a quick search of his person, but he had nothing of any use.

Knowing the other men could be back at any time, she knew she needed something to defend herself. Staring at the unconscious man, she knew something she could do, but wasn’t sure if she could accomplish it one-handed. Knowing she needed to do everything she could to ensure her survival, she unbuttoned the man’s shirt, exposing his bare chest. Giving a quick glance to the door, she began digging her fingernails into the soft flesh, ripping and tearing at the skin as she began burrowing her hand into the chest.

Luckily the man was deeply unconscious and didn’t wake while she tore his chest open, and Paper Star was having a hard time doing this with only one arm. Relying on her razor sharp nails to help her, she ignored the puddle of blood that was forming underneath her victim. Her fingers finally found what she was seeking just as the door opened.

Paper Star froze and stared up at Plague Doctor who stood in the doorway by themselves. They stared at her in silence for a few seconds, and then slowly began approaching the cage. 

Paper Star gripped a rib tightly and began hurriedly twisting and pulling at it, trying to snap it off. It was a lot more difficult than anticipated and her fingers couldn’t get a proper grip on the rib. Plague Doctor stopped just on the other side of the man and then knelt down, glancing down into the gaping hole. They cocked their head curiously, gazing at the man, and then they glanced at Paper Star.

Finally Plague Doctor reached out and Paper Star jerked her hand away, having no idea what they were doing. Plague Doctor rested a gloved hand on the man’s chest for a moment, but then to Paper Star’s surprise, they reached into the bloody and gaping hole in the chest. There was a terrible cracking and squelching sound, and a moment later, Plague Doctor held the rib in their hand. They stared down at it, and because of the mask, Paper Star couldn’t see their expression. Plague Doctor then held out the rib towards her, and she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. She stared at the mask but couldn’t see eyes or any other human feature. 

The Plague Doctor’s bird-like mask made them seem terrifying and this was something Paper Star could appreciate. She stared at the hat they wore, and her gaze settled on the fancy ‘V’ that adorned it. ‘V’ for Void perhaps? The eyes of the mask were mirrored, and Paper Star stared at them, trying to see any hint of the person underneath. She saw nothing but the blank face of the mask, and so she couldn’t get any sort of reading on this person.

Plague Doctor continued holding the rib out and didn’t move, their gaze focused directly on Paper Star. Paper Star slowly reached out a hand towards the rib. Keeping her eyes on them cautiously, she snatched the rib away and then pressed herself as far back into the cage as she could.

The door then opened and several men entered. When they saw Plague Doctor kneeling beside one of their own with bloody hands, they let out shocked and furious yells.

“God dammit, you fucking weirdo!” one of them yelled, “Not again!”

Plague Doctor turned their head slightly and glanced at them over their shoulder, clearly unconcerned.

“Step away from Carl  **now** , or I swear to god, I will tranq you!”

Plague Doctor slowly stood to their feet, and then turned back to stare at Paper Star.

“You’re not even supposed to be in here!” the man yelled, “Leave  **now** !”

Plague Doctor turned away from the cage, and then stared at the men, gloved hands still dripping blood onto the floor. 

“Leave now or we’ll contact Matryoshka about this! Do you want us to call her?”

Plague Doctor continued staring at them for a few moments and then slowly began approaching them. The men backed away and Plague Doctor passed them by without a single word, leaving through the open door. Once they were gone, the men turned to Paper Star, and it was then that she noticed one of the men had a tranq pole, similar to what was used for vicious animals. Knowing there was no way to avoid this, she clutched the broken rib tightly and waited for them to near. As two of the men reached out to drag their coworker away, she suddenly lunged forward and drove the rib into one of the men’s throats.

As he gasped and began gurgling, Paper Star felt a sharp pain and knew she had just been tranquilized. Not wanting to go down without a fight, she threw the sharp piece of bone through the bars of the cage, feeling smug when it stabbed directly into the other man’s eye. Paper Star then fell forward onto the floor of the cage, her limbs feeling too heavy to move. As she lost consciousness, all she could hear were screams from the men around her.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Crackle got out of the taxi and stared up at the fancy hotel, feeling a knot of worry in the pit of his stomach. What if the others weren’t able to make it? What if V.I.L.E caught wind of what they were doing and stopped them? What if the others had already been killed? The taxi pulled away and Crackle was left standing on the busy sidewalk, people pushing past him on either side. He received a few disapproving looks for blocking the sidewalk like that, but he ignored them, hoping he didn’t have to do this mission alone. Walking up the marble steps of the hotel, he entered and was immediately greeted with a smile from the woman at the front desk.

“Good evening, Sir, do you have a reservation?” she asked with a thick accent.

“Reservation for...”

Crackle paused as he realized he didn’t know what name Neal used to book the reservation.

“Erm...under Dawsen, or perhaps Ferguson?”

“Oh yes, two rooms on the executive floor!” she immediately answered.

Crackle gave her a nod. “Have the rest of my...coworkers arrived yet?”

The woman gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, but I’m not certain. Someone already checked in the rooms a few hours ago, but I wasn’t here when they arrived. Do you want me to call up to the room and ask who’s there for you?”

Crackle let out a breath of relief. Good, it seemed like at least  **some** of the team had made it. “No, that’s alright,” he replied, “Has the room already been paid for?”

The woman nodded, “Yes, Sir, I’ll just need your I.D and then I’ll provide you with a room key,”

Crackle pulled his wallet out of his pocket and removed one of his fake I.Ds. The woman inspected it for a moment, and then typed the information into her computer. She then handed him his I.D and keycard.

“Thank you, enjoy your stay! You are in room 1202.”

Crackle gave her a nod, and then turned to head towards the elevators. As he pressed the button and waited for the elevator, Crackle pulled out his com and glanced down at it. The com was still dead, but he had a feeling the second he charged it, it was going to receive a  **lot** of calls. Things were going to get extremely ugly, but he was prepared to deal with it. The elevator dinged and he got on, slipping the com back in his pocket.

Neal had booked the reservation for him, and he hadn’t been expecting him to choose such an expensive set of suites. Did Neal pay for this using his own private funds or did he stick it on his V.I.L.E credit card? When Crackle got to the twelfth floor, he saw there were only two rooms on the entire floor. They would have complete privacy for the duration of their stay.

Crackle swiped his keycard against suite 1202 and the door swung open. When Crackle stepped into the room, he felt a rush of happiness at the sight of his team. He had genuinely missed them, and everyone had shown up. Well... **nearly** everyone. A small sliver of sadness tainted his joy, knowing their team was missing two of its members.

“Heya, wombat!” Neal called over cheerfully, “You finally made it!”

Neal jumped up from where he was sitting and tossed his arms around him in a hug. “We were starting to get worried! Everything okay?”

Crackle offered him a smile. “I got a little delayed, but I made it.”

Neal then glanced behind Crackle into the hallway. “Is Dash with you?”

Crackle shook his head sadly. “Dash isn’t coming.”

Neal’s smile dropped away. “What?”

“Dash is going to remain with V.I.L.E,” Crackle said, averting his eyes, “He wants to stay with Cleo.”

Theodore shook his head. “Does he know that Paper Star is in danger?”

Crackle nodded.

“No, Dash is one of  **us** !” Roosevelt said angrily, “He’s part of our team!”

“What happened?” Otterman asked in concern, “Neal gave a brief rundown of the situation, but why don’t you explain everything? Has V.I.L.E truly betrayed us?”

Crackle heaved a sigh and then took a seat on one of the nearby beds. “It seems we have no value to V.I.L.E at all,” he began, “I’ll start from the very beginning when I first arrived back on New V.I.L.E Island.”

Everyone listened in complete silence as he explained everything he had been put through during the last month and also what he had overheard. He told them about his conversation with Dash and the fact the other man had been adamant he was remaining with V.I.L.E. When Crackle finally finished explaining everything, his team was looking grim and worried.

Neal was pacing about the room, and when he finally paused for a moment, he turned distressed eyes to Crackle.

“Dash can be a bit dense at times, so maybe he just misunderstood the situation?” Neal asked hopefully.

Crackle shook his head again. “He chose to stay.”

“I’ll call him!” Neal vowed, “I’ll  **make** him understand, and I’ll get him here!”

“It was  **his** decision to make,” Crackle replied firmly, reaching over to plug is com in to charge, “We have to respect his decision, because asking him to commit treason is dangerous, and not the life he expected. He chose to remain loyal to V.I.L.E, and I hold no ill-will towards him for it.”

Neal glanced around at the others in the room and then sighed in resignation. “Fancy’s living the life he always wanted, so I guess I understand,” he replied a bit reluctantly, “He didn’t even like any of us.”

“Well, maybe not  **you** ,” Dash replied from the door.

Everyone turned to stare and Dash stood in the open doorway, dufflebag in hand, and looking a bit uncertain.

“Sorry I’m late.”

“Dash!” Crackle exclaimed in complete relief.

To Dash’s complete shock, Crackle stook and pulled him into a tight hug. “I knew I could count on you, Dash!” he exclaimed happily, “I knew you wouldn’t let us down!”

Dash was then released only for Neal to surge across the room and yank Dash into a bone crushing hug. “Fancy, you made it! I  **knew** you would come!”

“Neal!” Dash protested, squirming uncomfortably, “Let me go!  **Now** !”

Neal did let him go, but there was worry in his eyes. “You feel like nothing but bones! What happened to you? Are you sick?”

“Cleo was starving me for the last month,” Dash replied, “She was trying to punish me for leaving her.”

Neal looked completely horrified. “Let’s get you some food!” he said, “We’ll order room service. What an absolute miserable harpy that Cleo is!”

Crackle nodded as well, “We’ll order supper and then discuss our plans.”

“I actually ate like fifteen packages of pretzels on the plane,” Dash admitted, his cheeks colouring a bit.

Neal grinned at him and clapped him on the back. “Well, let’s add some protein to that carb fest!”

Dash offered him a smile in return. “Alright.”

There was suddenly a desperate and mournful meow from across the room, and Dash turned, and his gaze immediately settled on the cat carrier sitting beside Otterman’s feet.

“You brought Steve on a mission?!” Dash cried out, rushing over to the carrier.

“Well, we were the ones feeding him and everything, and there was no one else to take care of him,” Moose Boy replied.

“Your cat is an asshole,” Otterman muttered, raising a hand to his clawed up face.

“You deserved it,” Dash snapped, opening the carrier, “Leaving poor Steve locked up in this little crate!”

Otterman rolled his eyes, but didn’t comment.

“Aw, Steve, it’s okay,” Dash said softly, “You can come out now.”

Steve immediately left the carrier and began purring and rubbing against Dash, glad to see its favourite human again. Dash stared at Steve with wide eyes, and then turned furious eyes to Moose Boy and Otterman.

“What the  **hell** have you been feeding my cat?!” he demanded.

“Er...cat food?” Moose Boy replied.

“How much did you feed him?!” Dash cried out, “Just  **look** at him! You made him fat!”

“Well, I’ve never owned a cat so I just fed him a can every time I ate,” Moose Boy answered.

“You fed him  **three** cans of cat food a day?!”

Otterman glanced up at his partner. “ **You** were feeding Steve? I thought  **I** was supposed to feed him? I was feeding him this whole time too…”

Dash stared at them with wide eyes and then he glowered at them. “Who let these morons care for another living, breathing creature?” he demanded, “They could have killed my cat!”

Dash picked Steve up and then carried the cat over to one of the beds. “Aw, poor Steve,” he lamented, “You look like you swallowed a watermelon! At least your fur is looking a lot better.”

Neal let out a laugh, and simply shook his head. “We missed you, Dash.”

Dash looked genuinely surprised by this, and when he looked up, he saw the others were nodding. “We may not always get along, but we’re a team,” Dash replied, “And we’re a damn  **good** team. We’re going to find Paper Star, and we’ll get her back.”

“I’ve been sleuthing since yesterday,” Neal informed them, “I’m no tech genius or anything, but I can hack a little bit, and I found some interesting information on the V.I.L.E servers.”

“Oh?” Crackle asked, instantly interested, “Like what?”

“I’ll tell you everything I learned. I managed to find the information about Paper Star’s mission.”

Everyone immediately gathered in close, and Neal took a seat on the bed next to Dash.

“So, this is what I was able to learn about Paper Star’s mission,” Neal began, “It all began with a partner betraying V.I.L.E-”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Paper Star awoke slowly. Her shoulders were in absolute agony for some reason, and this is what woke her. Her mind was still fuzzy, and when she went to move her arms, she realized she couldn’t. Letting out a low groan as she tried to open her eyes, she suddenly felt a hand tip her chin up. The touch was cold, and Paper Star weakly tried to move her face away, her eyelids too heavy to open. The hand pulled away, and Paper Star’s chin hit her chest, unable to support her head.

[[Get away from her!]] a woman’s voice scolded in Russian, [[I told you to stay out of this room!]]

There was no reply, but she heard footsteps walk away from her.

[[Honestly, how many times do I have to tell you?]] the woman muttered, [[I’m still waiting for V.I.L.E’s response. I can’t believe you spent twenty million dollars on a V.I.L.E operative. She’s not even anyone important!]]

There was still no response.

[[If V.I.L.E agrees to the ransom, at least we’ll get back  **some** of the money you’ve wasted!]]

The footsteps continued walking away, and then Paper Star heard the sound of a door opening and closing. The woman muttered a few more things under her breath, and a few seconds later, Paper Star felt a warm hand tipping her chin up.

“Are you awake?” the woman demanded.

Paper Star couldn’t have answered even if she wanted to. The hand was removed and then Paper Star heard footsteps as the woman also left the room. The pain in her shoulders was intense and she tried again to move her arms. When she still couldn’t move her arms, she then tried to move her legs. There was the sound of rattling chains, and she found she couldn’t move her feet either. Paper Star fought against the drowsiness, and finally she managed to open her eyes.

The first thing Paper Star saw was the large and empty warehouse she was in. Turning her head slightly to look up, she realized her arms were shackled to a beam above, and this was the cause of her shoulder pain. Looking down, she saw her ankles were shackled to the floor and there was a blue tarp underneath her. Paper Star wasn’t an idiot, and she knew what that tarp was for.

Paper Star yanked at the chains, but all she ended up doing was hurting her broken arm and she winced at the agony this caused. The chains were thick, and there was no way she was going to break them. Her arms were so stiff that she knew she must have been in this position for a long time, and she wondered just how long she had been there. The woman obviously wasn’t impressed with Plague Doctor’s purchase, but it appeared V.I.L.E weren’t willing to buy her back. What were these people planning on doing with her if they couldn’t sell her back? Paper Star glanced down at the tarp. She had a feeling she wouldn’t like that answer.

As the minutes dragged by, Paper Star lost all drowsiness, and her mind cleared enough to think. Supporting her weight on her feet instead of just hanging relieved a bit of the horrible pressure on her shoulders, and she again looked closely at her surroundings. The warehouse was old, and the walls were full of holes, and part of the roof was missing. There was nothing at all inside the warehouse except for a few chairs and what looked like an empty crate. Whoever The Void were, they were clearly not planning on spending a lot of time here.

Paper Star saw nothing she could use to escape, and when she looked up at the beam she was chained to, she saw it was solid metal. Standing on her toes to get a bit of relief to her arms, she rolled her shoulders, knowing there was no way she could fight in this condition. She was probably too stiff and too sore to throw even if she could escape. She’d instead have to rely on talking her way out of this. Paper Star had never been the most social person, and she honestly hated people, but if she could convince them to allow her to join them, this was the only way she could see herself getting out of this.

The door suddenly opened and she glanced over and saw Plague Doctor peer into the room at her. She stared at them with a frown, and they slowly entered the room, staring straight at her.

Plague Doctor came to stand just in front of her, and they cocked their head slightly as if considering something.

“You want me to join The Void, right?” Paper Star asked, her throat feeling dry and rough.

Plague Doctor reached out a gloved hand towards her, but before they made contact the door opened a second time.

[[Dammit, I told you to stay out of here! Do you listen to a single word I say?!]]

Plague Doctor closed their hand without ever touching her, and then glanced over their shoulder at the woman. The woman was dressed in a traditional red Russian dress that nearly reached the floor, and her face was painted to look like that of a doll’s. Her greying hair was tied up into a tight bun on top of her head, and Paper Star was immediately wary of her. Her movements were slow and deliberate and Paper Star had no doubt that this woman knew how to fight.

The woman approached and placed an arm around Plague Doctor’s shoulders, staring at Paper Star curiously.

“Your circumstances are unfortunate,” she commented, her voice slightly accented, “It does not appear like V.I.L.E will be responding to us.”

“Who are you?” Paper Star asked.

The woman turned away. “My name is Matryoshka, but it doesn’t really matter,” she replied, “I have no use for you. If V.I.L.E refuses to pay the ransom, you will not live to see another day.”

[[I want to join The Void!”]] Paper Star called after her in Russian, [[I am a fighter, and I’ll be useful to you!]]

Matryoshka stopped, and then slowly turned back around. [[Your Russian is surprisingly excellent,]] she said in mild surprise, [[What do you know of The Void?]]

Paper Star wracked her brain for anything she knew of them. [[You’re in competition with V.I.L.E.]]

The woman rolled her eyes. [[V.I.L.E are our sworn enemies,]] she corrected. [[Just having one of their operatives here disgusts me to no end. Your kind can  **not** be trusted, and no one from V.I.L.E will  **ever** be allowed to join us. If V.I.L.E doesn’t respond within an hour, I’m allowing Plague Doctor to have you. They’ve been extremely eager to get their hands on you.]]

Paper Star glanced to Plague Doctor who was staring straight at her, not moving in the least. Although she couldn’t see their eyes, she could feel the gaze on her, and it made her uncomfortable.

[[What is Plague Doctor going to do to me?]]

[[I really don’t care,]] Matryoshka replied, once again turning away, [[It was Plague Doctor’s money to waste, and so they can do whatever they please with you.]]

[[I could be valuable to The Void!]] Paper Star protested, [[I have perfect aim, I’m athletic, and I can tell you anything you want about V.I.L.E.]]

[[Why would I ever want someone who’s so quick to betray their syndicate?]] she demanded with a scoff, [[You are worth  **nothing** to me, and I don’t care what information you have. Our plans are almost ready to take V.I.L.E down, and we don’t need you. You’re nothing but an annoyance.]]

Paper Star’s eyes widened. The Void were planning to take down V.I.L.E?! Were they that big of an organization?

[[You spent twenty million dollars on me, and you’re just going to kill me?]]

Matryoshka didn’t bother turning back around. [[No,  **Plague Doctor** spent twenty million dollars on you. I had nothing to do with it. They hate V.I.L.E much more than I do, and so you’re definitely in for an interesting time if your ransom isn't paid. Plague Doctor’s hatred for anything V.I.L.E is beyond  **anything** you could ever imagine. I know they will enjoy disposing of scum like you, and I will not be getting involved.]]

Paper Star stared with wide eyes, not sure what to say to that. Matryoshka reached the door and then stopped, and turned around.

“Come, Bratushka” she ordered impatiently in English, ‘’You’re not allowed to touch her yet.’’

Plague Doctor’s shoulders slumped a bit, but they dutifully turned away and followed the woman out of the room. Paper Star stared at the closed door and then let out a curse. There was no way V.I.L.E would pay the ransom within an hour. Struggling against the chains, she pulled and twisted until her wrists bled, but still the cuffs around her wrists were still too tight to escape from. Taking a few deep breaths, she struggled even harder, squeezing her eyes closed as she felt a few of her fingers snap. Unable to take the agony, she had to stop, blood trickling down her arms.

Hanging limply as she grit her teeth from the pain, she realized she was not going to escape this. She was going to die here, and there was nothing she could do about it. No one was coming from her, and no one would miss her. She would die and it would be like she had never existed at all. The world would remain unchanged after she was gone, and she doubted anyone would even remember her. Her own death loomed in front of her in the form of the Plague Doctor, and the darkness to come was a sure promise.

Although Paper Star worked hard to suppress any and all emotions, she couldn’t stop the terror that coursed through her. The fear burned within her like a brand and she felt her breathing speed up as the feeling of helplessness overcame her. She’d worked so hard at always being strong, and always being fearless, but the surety of her death made all of that slip away.

When the door opened to reveal Plague Doctor, Paper Star knew the hour had passed. She was now going to die.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Crackle took a bite of steamed rice and then frowned as he listened to his teammates.

Team Crackle had been planning and discussing what they knew about Paper Star’s situation while eating supper, and Crackle knew this was  **not** going to be easy.

“If Paper Star was sent to kill her father, then the most logical place to start would be by speaking to him,” he stated, “I know she’s no longer there, but he may have some idea of who bought her at the auction.”

Neal returned Crackle’s frown and something seemed to be bothering him. He was silent for a few moments and then finally voiced his thoughts.

“Why would Paper Star ever agree to kill her own father?” he asked, “I understand that she left her family behind to join V.I.L.E, but she was  **so** willing to betray him… He’s her father!”

Dash gave him a long look, and to their surprise, he answered in a respectful tone. “You don’t understand, Neal, you came from a happy and stable home. Not all of us were that lucky.”

“But he was her father!” Neal protested.

“Just because someone creates you, that doesn’t make them good parents,” Otterman snapped, crossing his arms against his chest, “I hate my parents, I wouldn’t care if their house burned down with them inside it.”

Neal seemed genuinely surprised by this. “You don’t really mean that, Sven, they raised you!”

Otterman seemed incredibly agitated. “My whole childhood I was beaten, isolated and told I was worthless. My parents hated me, and they made sure I knew this each and every day. I never experienced one ounce of love from any of my family, and I  **hate** them all… Well,  **almost** my entire family.”

Otterman then paused as a pained look crossed his face. “I once had an aunt who used to visit me. She was the only bit of kindness in my life and I loved her. She saw how I was being treated and she promised she was going to take me away with her when she had the chance. She told me how she would raise me like her own, and how she would treat me right, and that was the worst thing of all. It gave me hope, but then she stopped visiting me. I don’t know if my parents stopped her from visiting, or whether something had happened to her. The last time I saw her, I was ten years old and she told me she would be back in a week to take me away. She never returned and my parents refused to talk about her.

I tried running away to find her, but my father found me at the bus station and beat me so hard that he fractured my hip.”

Moose Boy’s expression was downright dangerous, and he wrapped an arm around his partner, not saying a single word. By the look on his face, Otterman’s parents had better hope they never met him.

Neal knew Otterman’s life hadn’t been the best before he joined V.I.L.E, but he’d had no idea it was  **that** bad.

Theodore reached out and gently ruffled Otterman’s hair, his own expression pained. He glanced over at his twin, and the two exchanged a long look before Roosevelt gave him a nod. Theodore then turned towards Neal.

“I can understand how Paper Star and Gwen both feel,” he said carefully, “I hated my parents  **so** much for what they did to my brother…”

Neal’s gaze flitted to Roosevelt, but Theodore shook his head.

“No, we used to have another brother…”

Team Crackle knew this was a sore subject to never bring up, and Theodore instantly had everyone’s attention.

“...the one who died…” Crackle said cautiously.

Theodore grimaced, and then nodded.

“It’s hard to imagine there were  **three** giants,” Neal said, carefully keeping his tone respectful, “I bet the three of you could do some real damage during fights!”

Roosevelt shook his head. “No, he wasn’t big like us, he was tiny and helpless.”

Theodore got a pained look across his face as he nodded his agreement. “He was so small that he used to ride on our shoulders, and he loved it. We did everything we could to protect him.”

“What happened?” Dash asked, knowing how touchy the twins were about this.

“Delano was four years younger than us,” Theodore began.

“Wait, your parents named the three of you Theodore Delano Roosevelt?!” Dash asked with a hint of disgust. “Were they on drugs or something?”

“Yes,” Theodore answered simply, causing Dash to wince, “They were. You have no idea how horrible they were.”

“...oh...sorry.”

Theodore gave him a nod and didn’t seem to be offended, and continued his story. “We lived in a disgusting bug infested apartment in New Jersey. Our parents were addicted to both meth and heroin, and our mother used during her pregnancy with our brother. She didn’t go to any doctors, and she gave birth in our bathroom while strung out. Delano was born severely premature and addicted to both meth and heroin. He went through immediate withdrawal, but our parents never took him to the hospital, worried about being arrested. I remember he was getting weaker and weaker and finally our mother dumped him into the garbage can to dispose of him.”

“Holy shit…” Neal commented, eyes wide.

“Roose and I dug him out and we took him to our bedroom. We fed him formula and canned milk with an empty heroin syringe, and he managed to pull through the addiction. Our parents were barely ever home and Roose and I concentrated all of our attention on the baby, using him to distract us from the horror of our lives. He was always so weak and so frail, but he wanted to live. Delano was small, but he was a fighter. 

As we got older, food became more and more scarce in our home, and Del quickly lost weight and he started to starve to death. By this time he was three years old and he still wasn’t walking and still wasn’t talking. Sickness and neglect had delayed him, and he depended on us entirely. He was always  **so** sick, and we carried him everywhere with us so that he was never left alone. He was difficult to feed even when we managed to scrounge up food, and it soon became clear that he was going to die if we didn’t get him help.

Although Roose and I were only seven, we knew we had to find him help, and so we carried him out of that disgusting apartment and began walking. We walked until we found a policeman, and we told him everything. He took us to the hospital, and Child Protective Services was called. Delano was admitted into the hospital, and they managed to save his life. Our parents lost custody of us and we were sent to live with our grandmother who we had never met.

Once we were out of that hellhole and away from our parents, he began to improve fast, and he loved our grandmother a lot. She worked with him every day until he finally began to catch up to where he was supposed to be. We loved our little brother more than  **anything** , and as he got older, we realized how smart he was. Whereas Roose and I kept failing grades in school, he found everything easy and he soon caught up to us in grade four. He didn’t want to leave us behind, and so he worked with us for hours every single day to make sure we understood the schoolwork, and he had a way of explaining things so we could understand. He was the brains of our team, and when he died, we were completely lost.”

“How did he die?” Crackle asked hesitantly.

“During training at the academy,” Roosevelt answered, “There was an accident involving one of Dr. Bellum’s weapons. Roose and I were in Brunt’s class while he was excused for private study, and he got injured in one of the hallways. Most of his lower body was severely burned. He held on for a few days but passed away in his sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” Neal said, placing a hand on Theodore’s knee.

“The point I’m trying to make is that parents are capable of more pain and abuse than  **anyone** . I  **hated** my parents for what they did to us, and when they died, I was glad. None of us even went to their funerals. I don’t know Paper Star’s situation, but we can’t judge her for hating her father. We don’t know what happened.”

Neal had a great childhood, and so he knew this was something he’d never fully understand. He glanced over at Crackle and by the disturbed look on the other man’s face, he had a feeling Crackle didn’t understand either.

Crackle’s com suddenly started to ring, and he glanced over to where it was plugged in charging. Everyone went silent, and then Crackle let out a low groan.

“Pass me my com,” he ordered, “I might as well get this over with.”

Dash unplugged the com and then handed it over to Crackle, knowing this was bound to be interesting. Crackle glanced down at the screen, saw it was Dr. Bellum and then rolled his eyes. Leaning back against the headboard of his bed, he answered the call and Bellum’s face appeared on his screen.

“Evening, Dr. Bellum,” Crackle greeted, popping a piece of sushi into his mouth.

Bellum looked absolutely livid and she took in the sight of Crackle eating with an angry scowl. “How  **dare** you disobey me and leave the isolation chamber without permission!” she scolded, “You stole your com, you stole the crackle rod, and you damaged lab property! Where are you? Return to the lab right  **now** !”

Crackle chewed slowly and simply stared at her until he had swallowed. “I’m sorry, Dr. Bellum, but that won’t be possible.”

Bellum wasn’t expecting this and seemed taken aback. “What are you talking about? Where are you?”

“I’m sure you’re already tracing me,” Crackle replied, “See for yourself.”

Bellum narrowed her eyes at the disrespect, and then began typing on her computer. She then paused, simply staring in disbelief.

“You’re in Tokyo?!”

“It appears so,” Crackle responded without concern.

“How did you get to Tokyo?! And  **why** are you in Tokyo?!”

Crackle took another bite of food and didn’t answer her. Bellum had never seen him show such disrespect to her before, and it honestly took her a little aback.

“Crackle, what is the cause of this sudden rebelliousness?” she demanded, lifting her goggles to see him better, “What is bringing this on?”

Crackle stared at her with lidded eyes. “You don’t know?” he questioned.

Bellum let out an impatient huff. “I wouldn’t have asked if I knew,” she retorted.

Crackle furrowed his brow. “Have I ever shown you anything but complete loyalty?” he demanded, “Have I ever once done anything that warranted your hatred?”

Bellum blinked at him. “You’re talking complete nonsense,” she said dismissively, “You were an adequate operative, and I trusted you. This is why I’m not understanding this sudden disobedience!”

“So from your own mouth, I have been nothing but loyal,” Crackle said, a hint of anger creeping into his tone.

“Are you angry that I’ve been hard on you lately?” Bellum asked, “I did everything for your own good, and I only punish you so that you improve. Don’t you want to be a better operative?”

Crackle narrowed his eyes. “How does being executed make me a better operative?” he demanded.

Bellum went silent for a long moment. “Who told you this?” she demanded, “They were lying to you, and it’s not true.”

Crackle expression turned furious. “I heard you with my own ears,” he snapped, “and this conversation is over with until you’re willing to be truthful with me.”

Crackle then disconnected the com without another word, and tossed it onto the bed beside him.

“Wow, wombat, you just hung up on a faculty member!”

“She’ll call back,” Crackle responded, taking a long swig of his pepsi.

Sure enough, within seconds the com began to ring. Crackle set his can of pepsi aside and then reached for his com, taking his time. He answered it, and Bellum was practically frothing at the mouth she was so angry.

“How  **dare** you hang up on me, Crackle! There are going to be  **severe** consequences for this!”

“You were already planning on killing me, so I don’t see what difference it could make,” Crackle replied.

“I’m going to tell you what is going to happen, and you are going to listen!” Bellum snarled, “First you are going to-”

Crackle interrupted her. “No, you are in no position to be giving me orders. Not anymore. The moment you tossed me aside to be killed, you lost that privilege.”

Bellum immediately raised her voice. “Crackle, how  **dare** -”

“Until you’re willing to be calm and truthful, I have no interest in what you have to say.”

Crackle then hung up the phone a second time.

“Are you going to tell her we defected?” Otterman asked.

“Probably at some point,” Crackle answered, glancing down at his com as it began to ring.

To everyone’s surprise, he ignored it, and took a bite of his food instead. “I’ll talk to her when I feel like it,” he explained, “She’s low on my list of priorities right now.”

The com rang and rang, and after Crackle finally finished his food, he answered it. Bellum’s eyes were murderous, but Crackle pretended not to notice.

“Good evening again, Dr. Bellum, shall we try this conversation again?”

Dr. Bellum took a very deep breath, but she seemed to be holding onto her temper because she simply nodded.

“What are you hoping to accomplish with this?” she asked him, her tone strained but polite.

“I’m getting Paper Star back,” Crackle truthfully answered, “V.I.L.E is leaving her to die, and we’re not allowing that to happen.”

“We?” Bellum questioned, “Is someone there with you?”

“Perhaps,” Crackle answered evasively.

Bellum pinched the bridge of her nose, and then let out a deep sigh. “Alright, Crackle, you’ve made your point. Enough of this foolishness. I was perhaps a little too quick to write you off. Return now, and all will be forgiven.”

Crackle shook his head. “Sorry, but I’m never coming back. You betrayed all of us, and we are not willing to be used like this. If you want to work with us, then it will be on our own terms.”

Bellum looked like she wanted to get angry, but she took another deep breath and clenched her hands into fists.

“You’re betraying V.I.L.E.”

“V.I.L.E betrayed  **us** .”

“Who is us?” Bellum demanded, unable to see anyone else in the video.

“We will be in touch with you,” Crackle promised, “After we get Paper Star back.”

“Paper Star is as good as dead,” Bellum replied, “The Cleaners are already in Tokyo and they have orders to take her out at all costs. If The Void doesn’t kill her then the Cleaners definitely will.”

Crackle’s expression hardened. “Call the Cleaners off,” he ordered, “We can get her back.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Bellum answered, “They will make sure she doesn’t end up in our enemies hands, and they will be tasked with bringing you home.”

“That lab is  **not** my home,” Crackle snapped, “It was my  **prison** !”

“I am sad to hear that, Crackle. You have truly disappointed me.”

Crackle had to fight the instinctive emotion of shame that came over him at those words and he scowled at her. “I don’t care what you think, and I will  **never** return to that lab!”

Bellum let out a deep sigh. “Such a shame,” she commented, “I truly wonder where I went wrong with you. If you don’t willingly go with the Cleaners, then they will have no choice but to dispose of you. That goes for whoever is working with you as well.”

“If the Cleaners challenge me, then I will fight with everything I have,” Crackle answered, “We will fight for Paper Star, and V.I.L.E will never get their hands on her.”

“Don’t be so foolish, Crackle, the Cleaners are perfect operatives, and they cannot be defeated. They’re the more advanced version of what  **you ** were supposed to be. They feel no emotions, and they’re able to push aside pain to keep fighting. You don’t stand a chance.”

“Well, then I will die fighting,” Crackle snapped, “At least I’ll die  **free** instead of in a metal box in your lab!”

“Crackle-”

Crackle disconnected the call and then powered his com off.

“That’s enough of  **that** ,” he commented.

“Are you okay, Graham?” Dash asked, carefully watching the other man’s expression.

Crackle offered his team a slight smile. “I’m good,” he said softly, “I’m better than I have been in a long time.”

“Good job telling Bellum what’s what!” Neal said proudly, “Feels good, eh?”

“It does,” Crackle agreed.

“So...what do we do now?” Theodore asked, “We need to hurry and find out where Paper Star is!”

“We should probably head to Hinode Tower to find out what her father knows,” Crackle said, setting his food aside. “That’s the most logical place to start.”

Neal glanced back at his laptop and typed for a moment. “Okay, he seems to still be in the office because I’m not showing he passed through security yet.”

Crackle nodded, and looked at his team slowly one by one. “We have no idea what we’re going to be faced with. V.I.L.E are already here, and they’re likely going to be causing problems for us. I can’t promise that we’ll come out of this unharmed. Anyone who wants to stay here will not be shamed, and I’d completely understand.”

Moose Boy frowned down at Otterman, knowing how bad his eyesight was. “Sven, you should…”

“I’m going,” Otterman said firmly.

“But, Sven…”

“I’m tired of doing nothing right in my life. Neither of us expected to be part of this team, but I feel it in my bones that this is where we belong. Paper Star is one of us, and I refuse to leave her to die. I’m going and I don’t care what anyone else has to say about it.”

Moose Boy was clearly fretting, but Crackle gave Otterman a genuine smile. 

“Very well, Sven,” he said, “Is everyone else going?”

He received nods from everyone.

Crackle turned his gaze to the door. “Alright, let’s get going.”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Paper Star stared at the Plague Doctor as they slowly approached, and her gaze settled on the black bag they held. The only sound was the light footsteps from Plague Doctor’s heavy black boots, and once they neared her, she could sense the excitement in their movement. They set the bag down on the table beside her and then approached, reaching a hand out towards her face. Paper Star jerked her head to the side, and they withdrew their hand, instead turning their attention to the black bag. Plague Doctor didn’t make a move to open the bag, but instead slowly began circling Paper Star as if thinking. She could feel their gaze on her, and she wished she could fight, but she was completely helpless.

“You want to kill me, don’t you?” she asked.

Plague Doctor stepped back into her field of vision and cocked their head at her.

“Wouldn’t it be so much more satisfying to kill me if you defeated me in a fight?” she asked, “You’d get the satisfaction of beating me down and then watching the life leave my eyes.”

Plague Doctor said nothing, but seemed to be listening, and so she continued.

“Unlock these chains and let’s see what you’re capable of! Fight me, Plague Doctor!”

Plague Doctor stared at her in silence, and the seconds seemed to drag by painfully slow. Paper Star felt a wild need to survive and she began struggling and fighting against her chains, only making the wounds on her wrists even worse. Plague Doctor watched her struggle without reacting and this made Paper Star furious.

“Don’t be a  **coward** !” she challenged, “What’s the point in killing me like this? Fight me, and prove you’re the better fighter! Unchain me!”

Plague Doctor stared at her for a moment longer and then turned towards the table. Snapping open the bag, they reached inside, fumbled around, and then pulled out a hard plastic case.

“What's that?” Paper Star demanded.

Plague Doctor opened the plastic case, and Paper Star could see something metal glinting from inside. They reached into the case and then held up a surgical scalpel. Paper Star sucked in a sharp breath, unable to stop the fear that came over her. 

“So that’s it?” she demanded, “You’re just going to kill me?”

Plague Doctor slowly approached her, and then reached a gloved hand out towards her. She turned her face away and squeezed her eyes closed and she felt a hand placed on her shoulder. A moment later there was the sound of ripping fabric and she opened her eyes to see Plague Doctor cutting her clothes off with the scalpel. Although they were slicing through the fabric fast and business-like, she wasn’t cut, and she stiffened as her clothes dropped away.

The door opened, and Paper Star looked over to see the woman from before approaching. Plague Doctor glanced over their shoulder, then went back to what they were doing, clearly not concerned. Matryoshka crossed the room and then stood beside Plague Doctor, watching as Paper Star was stripped.

“As you’ve probably guessed, V.I.L.E have left you to die.”

Paper Star simply stared at her.

[[Skin her and make V.I.L.E a new pair of boots,]] she said switching to Russian, [[Show them exactly what we’re going to do to them once we defeat them. Make it brutal, for the camera.]]

Paper Star glanced around in horror. Camera? What camera? Her eyes fell on a security camera attached to one of the rafters and she realized V.I.L.E were likely going to see her execution. They made no effort to get her back and were now going to watch her die. Paper Star felt a deep hatred for them at that moment, and she turned furious eyes to Matryoshka.

[[Let me fight for you,]] she said firmly, [[V.I.L.E are absolute scum, and I was forced to join them by my father. I’ve never held any loyalty to them, and I hate them. Let me join you, and let me help you destroy them.]]

Matryoshka stared at her for a moment, and then slowly approached. Reaching out, she rested a gentle hand on Paper Star’s cheek.

[[The reason The Void have survived this long is because we don’t trust outsiders,]] she explained, [[We don’t need you, and we don’t want you. You are  **nothing** to us.]]

Paper Star flinched as the last of her clothes dropped away, and the scalpel glinted in the light, as The Plague Doctor kicked aside her ruined clothes.

[[Beat her, torture her, and make everything as painful as you can,]] Matryoshka ordered, [[Make an example out of her.]]

Plague Doctor nodded, and Matryoshka patted them on the back before turning to leave.

[[Try to keep the mess on the tarp.]]

Without so much as a glance in Paper Star’s direction, she left her alone with Plague Doctor. Taking a deep breath, she watched as Plague Doctor stepped in front of her and stared at her intently, expression unknown and hidden behind the mask.

[[You don’t have to do this,]] Paper Star told them, [[Just let me go.]]

Paper Star knew such a request would have been ignored if their positions were reversed, and so she wasn’t surprised when she was suddenly struck in the face. The chains held her upright, and she tasted blood, and grimaced against the pain. She was then struck a second time and there was a flash of white inside her skull that left her feeling dazed. The third strike left her vision spinning, and she could already feel the bruises forming. Gloved fingers then gripped her by the hair and jerked her head forward painfully. Paper Star then blinked in confusion as she saw black and white strands of hair fluttering past her face to the floor.

Paper Star’s mind took a moment to catch up, but when it did, she realized her hair was being sheared off. Her head was jerked this way and that and her long hair fell off in chunks in front of her eyes. When Plague Doctor was done, they ran a hand over her head, and she knew her hair was gone. Humiliated, she stared down at the floor at the piles of hair and truly felt hopeless. No one was coming for her, there was no escaping this, and this was where she was going to die. Paper Star was struck again and she felt complete helplessness consume her. She didn’t want to die, she wanted to  **live** , she wanted to  **fight** , but this is where her story was going to end.

For the first time since she was a child, she felt true fear. The terror made her begin to hyperventilate, and the Plague Doctor stood over her like an angel of death. The Plague Doctor smelled strongly of flowers and spices and the scent was overpowering as they began bringing the scalpel towards one of her eyes. The scalpel stopped just a hairsbreadth from her pupil and Paper Star held her breath, not daring to breathe as she stared at the blade in fear. Plague Doctor watched her reaction carefully and then withdrew the scalpel.

Paper Star watched as the scalpel was set down on the table, and Plague Doctor reached into the bag for something new. They pulled out a small handheld device and Paper Star eyed it warily, knowing it couldn’t be anything good. Plague Doctor pressed it against her ribs and the moment it was turned on, Paper Star let out a howl of agony as a powerful shock tore through her body. She was then struck before she had a chance to recover. Feeling a rib crack from the force of the hit, she panted as she tried to get herself under control.

Plague Doctor then shocked her a second time and hit her again. Paper Star accidentally bit her tongue and she choked on the blood as she convulsed under the shock. Gasping and choking, she let out a cry as her ribs were hit again, and she spit out a mouthful of blood, trying to suck in a breath of air.

Plague Doctor shocked her over and over again, and she screamed as her muscles began seizing up from the repeated shocks, feeling like she was being burned alive from within. 

Her face was bruised and swelling, and every inch of her body was in agony as she was shocked and beaten without pause. She wasn’t given any time to recover, and the pain just kept getting worse and worse. Several times she lost consciousness, but she was brought back around with a few hard slaps to the face. When she was hanging limply from her wrists, clearly giving up, that’s when Plague Doctor reached for the scalpel.

The first cut across her leg had Paper Star screaming in absolute agony, but there was nothing she could do as Plague Doctor very slowly began peeling a patch of skin away. The pain was worse than anything she ever could have imagined and she struggled all to no avail.

Paper Star felt like everything was in a fog of excruciating pain and she was aware she could hear someone screaming. She blinked a few times and was surprised to discover it was herself. The scalpel pulled away, and a moment later Plague Doctor held up a tiny strip of skin about an inch wide. If that’s how much it hurt for an inch, what was it going to be like to have her entire body skinned?

Paper Star shook her head feeling hysteria taking over and she continued screaming and fighting, not even caring as she damaged her wrists even further. Plague Doctor gently tapped the scalpel against her cheek, the reflective goggles of the mask mirroring her own terrified face back at her. Paper Star stared at her gruesome appearance and quickly closed her eyes, her whole body trembling as she screamed. 

Plague Doctor lightly tapped the scalpel against her forehead, and then continued tapping their way down her body until reaching her stomach. Paper Star jerked at the first cut of the scalpel, her screaming already reaching a new crescendo. As Plague Doctor made the second cut, that’s when the door suddenly slammed open.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Hinode Tower was a massive 50 story building in the heart of Tokyo. Security was clearly very tight and Crackle knew this was likely going to be incredibly dangerous. He parked the van across the street from the tower, and then sat for a few minutes, watching the four security guards make their rounds outside. 

Crackle glanced to his team. “Everyone ready?” he demanded.

He received all nods in reply.

“Does everyone understand what they’re supposed to do?”

“We got it, wombat,” Neal assured him, “We won’t let you down.”

“I’ve synced our ear-coms, and they should be on a private frequency,” Dash informed them, “They don’t have a far range and so if you’re more than 100 meters apart, they won’t be able to pick up the signal. I didn’t have time to boost it any further.”

“You did great, Dash,” Crackle told him with a smile.

Dash seemed a little proud of himself, and he held out a tiny ear-com to each person. “I’ve blocked V.I.L.E from listening in to us by jamming the signal they use. This should buy us some time before they figure out what I’ve done.”

“Perfect,” Crackle said, slipping his com into his ear.

Crackle opened the van door and stepped out onto the crowded sidewalk, once again glancing up at the tower.

“Okay, everyone, do your best. Moose Boy and Otterman, you’re with me.”

Neal and Dash separated from the rest of the group and headed for a nearby alley, and Double Trouble stationed themselves near the front doors near the guards. Crackle, Moose Boy and Otterman headed straight for the front doors, knowing this was going to be extremely risky. 

No one tried to stop them when they entered, and when they approached the front desk, the guard stationed there gave them a wary look.

“Hello,” Crackle greeted, “Do you speak English?”

The guard nodded. “Yes,” he replied, “How may I help you?”

“Could you please let Eikichi Hinode know I am here to speak with him?”

The guard narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?” he demanded, “It’s very late and you do not have an appointment!”

“Let him know Crackle from V.I.L.E is here to speak with him.”

“V.I.L.E? What is V.I.L.E?” the guard demanded.

“It’s the company I work for. We have been dealing with Mr. Hinode, and a matter has come up that requires a face to face meeting. He’ll know who we are.”

The guard clearly knew something was definitely wrong with this situation, but he still picked up his phone and dialled. The guard spoke in Japanese for a few minutes, looking the three of them up and down, and when he finally hung up the phone, he gave them a long and hard stare. Opening his desk drawer, he pulled out three visitor badges, swiped them to activate them and then he handed them over.

“Normally we would require photo I.D in order to issue a visitor’s pass, but Mr. Hinode has stated that you are exempt from this. Please step through the metal detector.”

Crackle stepped through first and when it didn’t beep, the guard approached to give him a pat-down. Finding nothing, he stepped back and motioned Moose Boy through. He too didn’t beep and so the guard searched him as well. When Otterman stepped through, the machine beeped and the guard made him step aside to be searched. He found nothing on his person and so he made him remove his glasses and try again. This time he didn’t beep and so the guard returned the glasses, and then waved them to follow. 

Otterman slipped his glasses back on and then exchanged a look with Crackle who gave him a slight nod. They followed the guard across the lobby to the public elevators, and he hit the button.

“Your passes are only authorized to take you to the top floor, and then return you to the lobby when you’re done. Any attempt to go to any other floor, will immediately alert security, and the police will be called. Do you understand?”

Crackle nodded. “Yes, that’s fine.”

The guard waited with them until the elevator arrived, and then he watched as they got on the elevator without a word. Crackle swiped his card and pressed the 50th floor button, and then waited as the doors closed. Knowing they were likely being watched, they stood in complete silence the entire elevator ride.

“We’re in,” Neal whispered into their coms, “We found an unsecured vent on the roof. We’re on our way down to locate our target.”

Crackle made a sound of approval, and then masked it by seeming like he was clearing his throat. Moose Boy glanced down at Otterman in worry, but he said nothing, simply stepping a bit closer to him as they approached the 50th floor. The elevator dinged and when the door opened, they were met with the sight of several armed guards waiting for them.

“This way,” one of the guard’s ordered.

Crackle nodded and followed without protest, ignoring the guns that were pressed to their backs as they walked along. They were led to a large office, and their gaze immediately fell on Eikichi Hinode who was seated behind his desk. The guards backed out of the room and then left them alone.

“Welcome, gentlemen,” Eikichi greeted, “Please take a seat.”

Crackle crossed his arms against his chest. “No thank you, we prefer to stand.”

Eikichi narrowed his eyes and pointed to the three chairs waiting for them. “I insist.”

Crackle plunked himself down in one of the chairs without further protest and stared at the man before him. He was an older man with salt and pepper hair that was neatly groomed, and he looked a lot like Paper Star. He had the same round face, the same hard gaze, and even his body language as he shifted impatiently seemed like her. Once the three men were seated, he gave them a long look.

“Crackle, Moose Boy, and Otterman,” he said slowly.

“You know us?!” Moose Boy asked in surprise.

“I make it my business to know who I’m speaking with,” Eikichi replied, “I also know the two men you left guarding the door are Double Trouble. I’m going to overlook the fact you brought reinforcements in the hopes we can keep this conversation civil.”

There was no mention of Neal or Dash.

“We hope to keep things civil as well,” Crackle replied, “No one wants any trouble.”

“None of you are the best or brightest V.I.L.E has to offer, which means you’re seen as disposable. What exactly is your mission? Kill me?”

Crackle shook his head. “No, we have no interest in you, it’s your daughter I want.”

For just a moment there was tightening around Eikichi’s eyes before he masked the look into indifference. “I no longer have a daughter,” he replied.

“We know Paper Star was sent here, and we want her back. Who bought her at the auction?”

“V.I.L.E had their chance to pay the ransom and you refused. After that assassination attempt, you’re lucky I didn’t have you killed on the spot.”

“Just tell us who has her,” Crackle ordered firmly, “Tell us and we’ll leave.”

Eikichi raised a brow. “And if I don’t?” he challenged, “What are you going to do, attack me in my own office building?”

“Guys, we just found Eikichi Hinode in a side office,” Neal whispered.

“He’s sitting near some kind of high-end camera set-up with a green screen. I think he’s projecting his image into the next room,” Dash added thoughtfully, “He must be doing this as a precaution against assassination attempts. There’s nobody behind that desk.”

Crackle’s eyes widened and he really stared at the man in front of him. He looked completely solid, and Crackle never would have suspected it was just a projection. Now it made sense why Eikichi was so adamant they remain seated. If seen from the side, that would spoil the illusion.

“Is he alone?” Crackle asked.

“Yes,” Dash immediately answered.

“Is who alone?” Eikichi demanded, “What are you talking about?”

“Take him down,” Crackle ordered.

“Explain yourself!” Eikichi ordered, “What are you-ack!”

An arm suddenly appeared and yanked Eikichi off his chair and the projection disappeared. They could hear scuffling from over the com, and a few seconds later, Dash spoke up.

“Okay, we have him contained,” he told them, “We should be in the room next to you.”

Crackle and the others got to their feet and a few seconds later a door opened from the side of the room. Dash poked his head out, and when he saw them, he waved them over.

When Crackle entered the side room, he was met with the sight of Eikichi Hinode hogtied in the middle of the floor. He was struggling angrily, but because of the gag, he wasn’t able to say anything.

“Where did you find something to gag him with?” Crackle asked in surprise. 

“It’s his sock,” Dash responded in complete disgust.

“Neal took his sock off in the middle of a mission?” Crackle asked, glancing over to Neal.

“No, that would have killed Mr. Hinode,” Dash replied, “We used his own sock to do it.”

Crackle glanced down and sure enough Eikichi was missing a shoe and sock. He was glowering up at them hatefully, but Crackle didn’t especially care.

“Get him up and tie him to a chair so we can interrogate him,” Crackle ordered.

Moose Boy helped lift Eikichi up, and they loosened the bindings so he was able to sit down. When they had tightly tied him to the nearby computer chair, Crackle slowly approached, expression determined. Neal handed him his crackle rod, and he turned it on, knowing things were probably going to get ugly. Yanking the sock out of Eikichi’s mouth, he pressed the crackle rod to his throat, but didn’t yet pull the trigger.

“Even try to yell and it will be the last thing you do!” he threatened.

Eikichi swallowed heavily and then gave a slight nod.

“Now that we finally have your attention, I’m going to ask again. Where is Paper Star?”

Eikichi averted his gaze. “I really have no idea,” he replied, “My auction house sold her off days ago, but I don’t know where she was taken.”

Crackle narrowed his eyes. “Who bought her?” he demanded.

“An organization that calls themselves The Void,” he answered, wincing as Crackle pressed the sharp points of the rod even harder against his throat.

“Where do The Void operate out of?” 

Eikichi shook his head. “I don’t know. The Void are incredibly secretive and I don’t know much about them.”

“You sold your own child at an auction,” Neal said, his tone oddly cold.

“She’s no longer any child of mine,” Eikichi said angrily, “She’s completely insane, and she’s attempted to kill me  **twice** now. I gave her a chance to return to the family, and she threw it back in my face. She’s a liability, and I’ve washed my hands of her.”

“She’s your own child!” Neal snapped, “You don’t give up on family!”

Eikichi rolled his eyes and didn’t answer.

“Um...guys?” came Otterman from the other side of the room. “I think you should take a look at this.”

Stepping away from Eikichi for a moment, everyone approached Otterman who was leaning in close to a nearby laptop.

“What is it?” Crackle asked.

Otterman slowly turned the laptop around and they were met with the sight of Paper Star hanging by her wrists in some sort of warehouse. At first they thought it was a picture, but then they saw her lift her head.

“Oh my god…” Dash gasped, “When is this from?”

Otterman grimaced. “It’s a livestream. Read the description under the video.”

They leaned a bit closer and saw there was a single line of text.

‘ **We will skin all of V.I.L.E starting with this operative** ’

“They’re...they’re going to  **skin** her?!” Moose Boy demanded in shock.

Crackle felt sick as he stared at the video feed. She didn’t look harmed yet, but he knew that was going to change very shortly. His gaze settled on the timer and saw it had fifteen minutes left.

There was suddenly the sound of a fist hitting flesh and they turned just in time to see Eikichi fall to the floor, bringing the chair down with him. Neal stood over him, fist still raised and fury on his face.

“You sick waste of air, you were watching your own daughter being tortured! You were going to watch her skinned!”

Eikichi spat out a mouthful of blood and said nothing, and Neal pulled back to his fist to hit him a second time. To his fury, Crackle caught him by the arm, and he turned around to see Crackle shaking his head.

“That’s enough, Neal, help me get him back up.”

Neal scowled, but he did as he was told and helped heft the chair back to its proper position. To everyone’s shock, Crackle then drove his fist into Eikichi’s face as hard as he could. There was a loud crack and then a squelch as the nose broke from the force, and blood immediately began to pour out of the nose as Eikichi gasped in pain.

“Get him up again,” Crackle ordered.

They lifted the chair and Crackle pressed the crackle rod to Eikichi’s throat.

“I suggest you begin talking or we’re  **really** going to have a problem. Where is Paper Star?”

“I really don’t know!” Eikichi protested, “I was sent the link, but I don’t know where they’re keeping her!”

“Only thirteen minutes left, Crackle,” Otterman called over.

Crackle narrowed his eyes. “Gag him,” he ordered.

Picking the sock up off the floor, Neal shoved into the other man’s mouth none too gently. Without even waiting for him to realize what was about to happen, Crackle pressed the trigger on the crackle rod. Muffled screams filled the room, and Crackle kept it going for about five second before pulling away. Eikichi gasped and shook from the shock, and after a few seconds, Crackle gave a nod to Neal who pulled out the gag.

“Where is Paper Star?”

Eikichi gasped for a moment longer and then looked up. “I-I really don’t know. I swear I don’t know!”

“Neal.”

Neal shoved the sock back in the other man’s mouth and once again Crackle gave Eikichi a powerful shock. This time it took longer for Eikichi to recover and he was left wheezing and choking as he attempted to breathe through the sock. Neal removed the sock and Crackle stared down at him and tipped Eikichi’s chin up using the crackle rod.

“If we’re too late to save her, I am going to do everything to  **you** that happens to  **her** . You will feel every ounce of her pain. Tell us  **now** where she is, and we’ll let you live.”

Eikichi glanced towards the laptop screen and stared at the image of his daughter hanging there limply, and a brief look of pain crossed his face.

“Where is Paper Star?”

“...I don’t know.”

“Ten minutes left, Crackle.” Otterman called over.

Crackle’s expression hardened. “Right, we’ll do this the hard way then…”

As Neal began stuffing the sock back in Eikichi’s mouth, he began shaking his head.

“ _ ‘Ait, ‘ait! _ ” came his muffled protests.

Neal removed the sock again, and this time Eikichi began talking.

“I don’t know exactly where she is, but I know she’s here in the city. The Void owns several properties in Tokyo and she has to be at one of them.”

“Properties where?” Crackle demanded.

“There’s a file on my computer with information about all known criminal enterprises. There’s information about The Void and the properties they’ve purchased here in Japan.”

“Found the file,” Otterman said, typing fast, “Looks like they purchased six properties in the Tokyo area. Based on the video, Paper Star looks like she’s in an empty warehouse, and there’s only one property that matches that description. She might be there if Mr. Hinode is telling the truth.”

Crackle pressed the crackle rod sharply into Eikichi’s ribs, his expression murderous. “Don’t doubt my words when I say that if you’ve lied to us, we  **will** track you down, and we  **will** kill you.”

“I’ve told you everything I know!” Eikichi protested, “Now let me go!”

Crackle stared down at him for a long moment and then he smashed the Crackle Rod down hard on Eikichi’s skull, the older man immediately going limp.

“Let’s get out of here,” Crackle ordered, “How much time do we have left?”

“Eight minutes,” Otterman replied.

Crackle let out a curse. “Double Trouble, start the car and wait for us. We’re on the way!”

“Okay,” Theodore replied, “Be safe.”

“Neal, show us how to get out of here from the roof, we’ll need to grapple down to the ground. We don’t have time to waste.”

As everyone headed for the door, Otterman lingered behind, his gaze focused on the laptop. There was so much information about enemies and allies alike that he found himself unplugging it and tucking it under his arm. If they were truly leaving V.I.L.E then they could use all the help they could get.

“Sven!” Crackle called from the hallway, “ **Now** !“

Otterman jogged after the others. “Coming!”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The door suddenly slammed open and Plague Doctor paused what they were doing and glanced over their shoulder. The woman from before burst into the room out of breath, her eyes wild and each hand clutching a dagger.

[[We have company!]] Matryoshka yelled, [[Leave the girl and grab your weapon!]]

Plague Doctor glanced at Paper Star and then down at the scalpel in their hand, and then back to Paper Star, clearly conflicted. They hesitated a bit too long and Matryoshka turned a glare in their direction.

“ _ брат! Коса! _ ” Matryoshka snarled. “ _ сейчас же! _ ”

Plague Doctor heaved a silent sigh and reluctantly turned away from Paper Star, setting the scalpel aside on the table. Unclasping something from their belt, Plague Doctor unfolded it to its full length and locked it into place. 

Paper Star blinked the blood out of her eyes and stared at the double headed scythe as the Plague Doctor headed over for Matryoshka. They spun the scythe as they walked, fully prepared for a fight.

[[They’ve already taken out ten of our men,]] Matryoshka said, taking another deep breath, [[I’ve called for back-up, but we’ll need to hold our own until they get here.]]

Plague Doctor nodded, and again spun the scythe, eyes focused on the door.

Paper Star wheezed and felt like she was going to pass out, but she fought against it, knowing something interesting was about to happen.

The doors swung open, and to Paper Star’s surprise, it was Boris and Vlad, V.I.L.E’s Cleaners. Matryoshka threw one of her daggers straight at Vlad’s face, but the man easily caught it and tossed it aside, expression never once changing. The Cleaners’ eyes turned to where Paper Star was hanging, and then they exchanged a look with one another. Boris nodded, and then the Cleaners stanced themselves to fight. 

Matryoshka charged forward as Plague Doctor hung back to cover her. She lunged viciously at Boris, blade slashing at his throat, but missed as he nimbly leapt back. He retaliated without a pause, his own knife just barely missing her face as she dropped to the floor to avoid it. Kicking out to swipe his legs from under him, Matryoshka wasn’t expecting him to easily jump over her leg like he had seen it coming. Before she had time to react, he brought the knife down towards her head for the killing blow. Metal met metal in shower of sparks as Plague Doctor stopped the knife with their scythe.

Matryoshka quickly rolled out of the way, and grabbed up her second dagger just in time to block an attack from Vlad. Plague Doctor was slowly and confidently striding forward, and they slashed out with their scythe at both of the Cleaners who fought side by side. They leapt back but the scythe still made contact and blood appeared on the arms of their jumpsuits. They looked down at the blood in a sort of mild annoyance, and then focused their attention on Plague Doctor who was clearly the bigger threat.

Plague Doctor backed up a few steps and continued spinning the scythe, waiting for The Cleaners to make the first move. Matryoshka eyed them warily, and then she glanced over at Plague Doctor, realizing they were now dismissing her completely. She smiled at this, and remained crouched where she was, tightening her grip on her blades as she waited for her chance.

Plague Doctor briefly glanced over at her, knew what she was thinking and began taking slow steps to the side, forcing The Cleaners to turn their backs to Matryoshka. Vlad attacked first and ran for the Plague Doctor, dodging the first swipe of the scythe and grabbing the handle before it could be spun. Plague Doctor came to an abrupt halt, and before they could react, Boris slashed out with a knife, forcing Plague Doctor to abandon the weapon and jump back.

It was then that Matryoshka lunged forward, blades poised for the kill. Like before, the Cleaners seemed to predict this and turned and dodged her attack easily. Emotionless eyes met her own, and Matryoshka let out a frustrated curse.

[[I’m getting too old for this shit,]] she muttered, [[Who are you?]]

[[You are an enemy of V.I.L.E and you will be killed,]] Boris replied, surprising her.

[[You’re Russian?]] she demanded.

Neither of The Cleaners answered, and instead they separated, one going for Matryoshka and the other going for the Plague Doctor. Matryoshka took a low stance, using her small stature to her advantage, and she charged forward to meet Vlad head on. Plague Doctor had a different approach and waited for the attack to come to them. Just as the Cleaners went in to meet the attacks head-on, Matryoshka leapt straight into the air and kicked out with all of her strength. Vlad saw the blades in her boots a bit too late and Vlad’s arm was deeply gouged, causing him to stumble.

Using that to her advantage, Matryoshka lashed out with one of her daggers and Vlad threw himself backwards, the blade barely nicking his throat. Matryoshka then smiled at him sweetly, her doll-like makeup making her seem somehow more dangerous.

[[Do you know who I am?]] she asked, adjusted her grip on her blades.

[[We do,]] Boris replied, ducking under attack from Plague Doctor, [[We are E-12 and E-13.]]

Matryoshka faltered, and her eyes widened. [[You survived the attack!]] she gasped.

The Cleaners didn’t respond, and both lunged forward to initiate another attack. Plague Doctor blocked and pushed back, while Matryoshka dodged to the side, using her speed to her advantage.

[[You are Volkov! Why are you working for V.I.L.E?!]]

Boris slashed out at her mercilessly, catching a piece of her dark hair with his knife as he did so. Matryoshka watched the strand of hair flutter to the floor and she scowled.

[[You have betrayed your creators!]] she accused, [[Volkov would not want this!]]

[[We are not Volkov,]] Boris replied, once again slashing at her, [[We are the property of V.I.L.E.]]

Matryoshka leapt away, and then ran in an attempt to widen the space between them. Boris followed right on her heels, and she dodged behind a support beam just as a knife was flung at her back.

[[You are not V.I.L.E, and you failed in your programming!]] Matryoshka accused, continuing to run.

[[We were given to V.I.L.E as a peace offering many years ago,]] Boris replied, tone emotionless, [[Our orders were to obey V.I.L.E until our deaths. We betrayed no one.]]

Matryoshka let out an angry curse. [[Maxim was always a fool! Even a decade after his death we’re still left to clean up his messes!]]

Plague Doctor cocked their head at her words and then glanced back at The Cleaners as if considering something.

[[No, we’re killing them!]] Matryoshka responded, shooting a glare over at her partner, [[Don’t even  **think** about it!]]

Plague Doctor gave no indication they heard and charged for Vlad, swinging the scythe viciously at the man’s face. Vlad evaded the attack and then took several steps back to avoid the spinning blades as Plague Doctor closed in on them.

The doors on either side of the room burst open, and that’s when dozens of guards swarmed into the room.

The Cleaners stepped back to reevaluate this situation, and when it was obvious the guards were armed, they ran for cover behind one of the large steel support beams nearby. Plague Doctor took this opportunity to catch their breath, lowering the scythe as they glanced around at their backup.

[[Kill them!]] Matryoshka ordered, pointing while never once taking her eyes from the Cleaners. [[They’re  **there** ! Kill them at all costs!]]

The guards were about to attack when the doors swung open for a second time. Team Crackle burst into the room, and then froze in the doorway, staring at the enormous group of armed guards in surprise.

“...Oh,” Neal commented awkwardly, “Er..hi?”

“Who are  **you** ?!” Matryoshka demanded.

Team Crackle stared at her, and then glanced to the Plague Doctor who lurked just behind her.

Crackle scanned the crowd and when his gaze fell on the beaten and bloody Paper Star, and his eyes widened in horror.

“She’s here!” he called out to his team, “Paper Star is here! Move in!”

That was all Team Crackle needed to hear, and they surged into the room, ready to fight their way through the crowd. The guards turned towards the newcomers and drew their weapons, knowing the large team was more of a threat than just two men. Team Crackle split up as they charged into the crowd, knowing they had to trust their team to protect themselves for the time being.

Crackle powered up his crackle rod and lashed out at the first man, hitting him solidly in the stomach as he discharged the weapon. The man let out a scream of surprise as he was electrocuted, and Crackle swung out at the second man without pause, ignoring the bullet that whizzed past his ear. 

Double Trouble had teamed up with Moose Boy and the three of them were smashing their way through the guards viciously like a steamroller. Seeing the three men as the biggest threat, the guards all turned to fire at them, and fifty guns went off simultaneously. As gunfire rained down around them, they jumped behind the metal columns that supported the warehouse, barely getting out of the way in time. The bullets struck the metal in an explosion of sparks, and several guards were hit from the ricochet.

“We gotta take out the guns,” Theodore called over to his brother, “Can you get to me?”

Roosevelt peeked out from behind his support beam and a bullet almost hit him in the face, and he hurriedly pulled back.

“No!” he called back.

“Hang on, guys!” Neal yelled over, “We’re coming for ya!”

Neal was too fast for anyone to properly aim at, and he tripped guard after guard as Dash worked with him by slicing the guns into pieces. Dash ran and dodged as he was shot at, but Neal was doing a good job of keeping most of the gunfire away from him. Crackle was defending them both from the outer edges and when they had drawn attention away from the three men ducking for cover, he called out to them.

“Roose,  **now** !”

Trusting his leader's orders without question, Roosevelt burst out of his hiding spot and ran across to where Theodore was. Moose Boy did the same, and now that they were together, they turned questioning eyes to Theodore.

“You have an idea?” Roosevelt demanded.

Theodore nodded, and then pointed up towards the ceiling. The others looked up and they saw the support beam they were currently ducked behind had come unbolted from the ceiling due to rust. Roosevelt furrowed his brow.

“You sure?” 

Theodore nodded.

“What are we doing?” Moose Boy asked in confusion.

“Knock this down,” Theodore ordered.

Moose Boy simply nodded, and all three men backed up several steps.

“Timber!” Theodore yelled out to the rest of the team to warn them.

Crackle looked up in alarm and then scrambled out of the way as Neal and Dash did the same just as the enormous metal beam came crashing down right into the middle of the crowd of guards. There was a massive boom, several screams, and a cloud of dust filled the warehouse, blinding everyone. The twins and Moose Boy charged back into the fight and began smashing and tossing guards before the dust had even settled.

Neal and Dash were both working together to disarm the guards, and as Dash threw his bladed hat, Neal fought hand to hand, tripping and knocking the guards to the ground one after another. The moment the guards were knocked down, Crackle shocked them unconscious, and then Double Trouble and Moose Boy tossed them aside.

Otterman, who was not a fighter, was carefully slipping along the wall and heading for Paper Star. The others knew what he was up to, and they covered him as he ran from column to column, doing his best to remain unnoticeable. Luckily everyone else was too busy with the fight to pay him any attention, and he made it to Paper Star unscathed. 

“Don’t worry, we’re going to get you out of here,” he whispered, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Paper Star flinched away violently, and turned wild eyes towards him, pain and fear written across her face. Otterman had seen that look many times before on his own face when he looked in the mirror as a child, and he knew how to handle it.

“You’re safe,” he whispered, “No one is going to hurt you any more. We’re here for you, Shiko, and we’re going to take you home. It’s all over, I promise. I’m going to untie you, and then we’re going to get out of here.”

Paper Star stared at Otterman, and she could see the sincerity in his blue eyes. They had really come for her. She wasn’t going to die. She took a deep breath and then gave him a nod. Otterman returned the nod and then knelt down beside her to pick the locks on her ankles.

The Cleaners watched Team Crackle for a few minutes in silence, and then stepped out from their hiding spots to resume their attack on Matryoshka and the Plague Doctor. Vlad charged out from behind the support beam, and he slammed Matryoshka to the floor hard, blade coming down for the kill. Plague Doctor reacted on instinct and dove for Vlad, knocking his arm off course, the blade stabbing deeply into the floor beside Matryoshka’s head. Plague Doctor then spun their scythe viciously at Vlad who was forced to step back away from the attack. Plague Doctor had placed themselves in front of Matryoshka protectively, and by their stiff movements, it was obvious they were furious. 

Matryoshka rolled back to her feet, and then leapt towards Boris who was swinging his knife straight at Plague Doctor’s throat. Boris was kicked hard and he stumbled back before the knife could make contact, but he recovered quickly and turned on Matryoshka, tightening his grip on his knife. 

One of the guards saw their leader was in danger, and he intervened, stepping between them, and Boris lodged the knife deeply into the man’s skull without hesitation. The guard dropped dead to the ground, and Matryoshka knew they were losing this fight. She reached out and grabbed Plague Doctor by the hand, and then fled through the crowd, knowing they had to get away from The Cleaners. Plague Doctor tried to tug against her, but she was persistent, and they had no choice but to go along with her. The guards closed in around them to protect them as they fled, and The Cleaner’s once again had to take cover behind the support beams as they were shot at.

Plague Doctor suddenly yanked Matryoshka towards Paper Star when they saw Otterman had somehow snuck past everyone to free her. He currently had his back to the fight, picking the locks on Paper Star’s wrists. Her ankles had already been freed, and Plague Doctor was not happy over the fact they had almost lost their prisoner.

Releasing Matryoshka’s hand, Plague Doctor charged towards Paper Star and swung out the scythe towards Otterman who didn’t see the danger he was in.

“SVEN!” Moose Boy bellowed out from within the fight.

Otterman turned around just as the scythe sliced deeply into his abdomen, sending a shower of blood splattering across the floor. Otterman froze as he felt his organs begin to spill out of the cut, and he quickly held his hands over the wound to hold himself together. He stared with wide eyes up at Plague Doctor as they pulled their arm back for the second and final slice.

Otterman was clutching his stomach as blood poured out from the horrific wound, and he then fell backwards, before the second slice came. He hit the floor hard, and didn't get back up. Otterman was in shock from the pain and sudden blood loss, and he curled in on himself and began to shake as the Plague Doctor stood over him like an angel of death. 

“SVEN!” Moose Boy screamed out with a desperate wail, “NO!”

Otterman didn’t react to Moose Boy’s yell, his eyes closed as he continued to shake.

Plague Doctor cocked their head down at Otterman for a moment, and then turned to look when there was a sudden furious bellow from within the fight. 

Moose Boy’s expression was murderous as he punched and tore his way through the guards, smashing in skulls without a care as he roared in pure fury. He felt the bite of a bullet as it hit his leg, but he didn’t care, nothing but a desperate rage consuming him. Double Trouble did their best to defend him, but he charged into the thick of the fight with abandon, not caring about anything at that moment except reaching his partner. 

Moose Boy felt the sharp sting of another bullet, this time in his shoulder, but he kept going, feeling like he had nothing left to lose. Seeing what was happening, Crackle knew Moose Boy would die unless he got help.

“Close in!” he bellowed out to the others, “Defend Henrik!”

The rest of the team didn’t need to be told twice and they broke their formation to close in towards where Moose Boy was fighting. Neal ran and slid through the crowd, kicking and tripped as he did so, allowing the others to break through. Dash threw his hat over and over and used his fists to knock back the guards. Double Trouble threw guards across the room like they weighed nothing at all, and as the amount of guards thinned, the team began working together to take down the men with more ease. As the twins took down the guards at the outer edges, Neal tripped the men in the middle of the group as Dash disarmed them, and then Crackle shocked them unconscious. They stayed behind Moose Boy and were able to protect his back as the man smashed his way through the rest of the guards like an enraged Hulk.

They finally cleared enough of the guards for Moose Boy to reach Otterman and he ran straight at Plague Doctor, having every intention of ripping their head off. A fist hit Plague Doctor solidly in the face and the bird-like mask was knocked off onto the floor with enough force to crack it. Plague Doctor rolled from the force of the hit and when they looked up, their face was uncovered. A completely normal looking man stared back at Moose Boy, and he shook his head as he recovered from the hard blow. Plague Doctor was middle-aged with dark hair and blue eyes, and was wholly unremarkable in all regards. He sat up, glanced to where his scythe and mask had landed, and then glanced back to Moose Boy as the man stalked towards him.

Plague Doctor raised a hand to the blood on his chin where the mask’s straps had sliced him and he reached over for his fallen scythe. Moose Boy grabbed him by the leg before he could reach it and yanked him as hard as he could towards him. Plague Doctor’s head hit the floor hard as he was yanked, and other than a brief wince, he gave no outward reaction.

Moose Boy released his full fury on the smaller man, and he stomped down hard on Plague Doctor’s chest where there was an audible crack as several of his ribs broke. Plague Doctor didn’t make a single sound, but he grimaced as he struggled to get away from the enraged giant. Plague Doctor’s expression betrayed nothing of what he was thinking or feeling as he stared up at Moose Boy, and just as Moose Boy lifted a foot to stomp on him again, Matryoshka lunged forward, burying one of her daggers deeply into his side.

Moose Boy let out a pained grunt and lashed out with a fist and knocked her aside, before he fell to his knees. Plague Doctor scrambled backwards away from him, one arm wrapped around his injured chest.

[[Brother, we need to retreat!]] Matryoshka informed him, surging forward to help him to his feet. 

Plague Doctor grabbed up his scythe and seemed to be intending on continuing to fight, but Matryoshka grabbed him by the hand and pulled him away as Team Crackle began closing in. He struggled against her for a moment, but she tightened her grip and gave him another tug.

[[No, live for another day,]] she begged him, [[Don’t leave me by myself.]]

Plague Doctor stared at her and for just a moment a pained expression crossed his face. Not saying a single word, he nodded, grabbed up his mask and then ran with her towards the door. Moose Boy held his side for a moment, but then his gaze fell on Otterman who was lying nearby in a puddle of blood. Crawling on his hands and knees, he pulled Otterman towards him. Turning him over, he checked him with shaking hands, but Otterman wasn’t moving

“No, please no…” Moose Boy whispered, [[Sven, open your eyes,  **please** open your eyes!]]

Otterman didn’t move.

[[Not again, you’re  **not** going to do this to me again!]] Moose Boy cried out, giving Otterman a gentle shake. [[Wake up!  **Please** Sven! I love you! Don’t die,  **please** don’t die!]]

Moose Boy let out a wail of absolute distress and Crackle knelt down beside him as the others defended them. 

“Henrik, let me see him,” Crackle ordered.

Moose Boy tightened his hold on Otterman and didn’t let go.

“Henrik, I need to see Sven,” Crackle said firmly, “Let me check him over.”

Moose Boy was in hysterics, but he did reluctantly open his arms so Crackle could take a look. Crackle felt his stomach turn at the sight of the gaping wound on Otterman’s abdomen, and he reached out a hand to feel for a pulse and placed his fingers against Otterman’s neck.

Crackle waited for a moment and was relieved when he felt a steady pulse, and saw Otterman was lightly breathing.

“Henrik, he’s alive,” Crackle told him, “Sven is alive.”

Moose Boy clutched Otterman close to him and wailed in relief, knowing how close they had come to losing him.

The rest of Team Crackle took down the last guard and then glanced over at the others. They took in the sight of Moose Boy and Otterman, and then they turned their gaze to the naked and injured Paper Star.

“Don’t worry, love, we’re here,” Neal said in a soft voice as he approached, “We’re going to get you out of here.”

Paper Star was barely awake and she stared at him not really understanding any of this. Why was her old team here? They disbanded, and so why were they together again? She stared at Otterman, knowing he’d gotten injured trying to help her.

“W-why?” she asked weakly.

“What do you mean ‘why’?” Crackle demanded, resting a gentle hand on her cheek, “You’re one of us and we’d never leave you behind. I’m sorry it took us a while, but we’re going to get you out of here.”

Dash was already picking the locks on the cuffs, and when they popped open, she fell, unable to support herself. Roosevelt easily caught her in his arms, and he lowered her down to the floor as Dash removed his coat and wrapped her in it, trying to give her a bit of modesty.

This was when The Cleaners stepped out from the support beams they were watching from, and began to approach.

“Guys?” Theodore said, turning to face the Cleaners.

The Cleaners stood side by side as they approached, and Team Crackle instantly stood in front of Paper Star. Paper Star watched how her former team placed themselves in front of her, and she was honestly shocked. They had risked their lives and fought for her, knowing fully well she wouldn’t have returned the favour.

“You are to return to New V.I.L.E Island immediately,” Boris informed them, “We have our orders to bring you in.”

Crackle narrowed his eyes. “And Paper Star?” he demanded.

“She is to be terminated,” Vlad answered with a shrug.

Crackle held up his crackle rod. “You’re not touching her!” he snarled.

“Do not be foolish,” Boris scolded, “You will obey your orders and not try to stop us.”

The entire team stepped closer to Paper Star, none of them backing down in the least.

“You’ll have to go through  **us** first!” Crackle warned, “She’s one of  **ours** and no one is laying a hand on her!”

“She’s part of our little family,” Neal informed them angrily, “We may be a complete mess, and we might be mismatched, but we will defend each other to the death! No one hurts one of us and gets away with it!”

“Back off  **now** !” Roosevelt snarled, cracking his knuckles.

Paper Star watched from where she lay, confused and having no idea what to think about any of this.

“Enough of this,” Vlad scolded, “Step aside now before we’re left with no choice but to terminate all of you!”

“We’re not afraid of you!” Dash shot back, “We will  **never** allow you to kill her!”

“I’ll tear your heads off before you ever lay a hand on her!” Theodore threatened, narrowing his eyes.

Paper Star stared at her team and felt taken aback.

Team Crackle had never tried to change her, never betrayed her, and they had never once given up on her. They treated her like she was one of them, and she couldn’t understand it. Why would they do this? Why would they risk themselves in such a way? Paper Star looked up at Roosevelt who stood over her, clearly ready to protect her, and she felt an odd and unfamiliar emotion. The emotion burned hotly within her, and Paper Star didn’t try to fight it. These people...these strange operatives she’d lived with for months were now going to fight for her. They cared enough about her to risk their lives for her. Her own father didn’t even fight for her, and Paper Star grimaced.

She’d never been nice to any of her team, and she’d never even been very helpful all things considered. She would have understood it if they’d left her to die, but instead they were fighting for her. They didn’t betray her, and they didn’t leave her behind. Team Crackle was something entirely else, and she knew she didn’t deserve this. They wanted her for who she was, not because of who her father was, or because of her abilities, they had a connection to each other that felt strange but oddly right. Paper Star’s beauty was gone, she was too injured to be of any use, and she was a liability, but they still wanted her. None of that mattered to them.

Paper Star felt a hotness on her face and she was shocked to realize there were tears in her eyes. She hadn’t cried since she was a little girl, and for the first time in many years, she felt a raw and desperate helplessness consume her. Her team had come for her. Her team were not going to abandon her.

“If you fight us, we will kill you,” Vlad informed Crackle, “Our orders are clear, and so the decision is yours.”

Crackle glanced to his team and when they all readied themselves to fight, he gave The Cleaners a nod. “We won’t step aside,” he informed them firmly, “We will defend our team to the death.”

“So be it,” Boris replied, and he surged forward faster than any of them expected.

Crackle twisted out of the way, and a blade grazed his side, and before he could retaliate, the blade was back forcing him to dodge to the side.

“Henrik, defend Paper Star and Sven!” Crackle ordered.

Moose Boy crouched over his two injured teammates without hesitation, prepared to use his body to shield them from any attacks.

Neal dove down to the ground and lashed out with both feet and he knocked Boris off his feet before The Cleaner had a chance to react. Dash ran in and threw his hat in for the kill, but Boris saw it coming. Before the hat even came close, Boris rolled to his feet and slashed it out of the air. The hat fell to pieces on the floor, and Boris then lashed out with the heel of his boot as Neal attempted to trip him again. The kick hit Neal solidly in the face who fell back, taken by surprise.

Neal clutched his bloody nose and then quickly rolled out of the way as Vlad stabbed at him from behind. Neal was back on his feet in an instant to try again, and he dodged and fought with everything he had. 

The twins were large and strong, but they were slow and they had no hope of hitting the Cleaners while the men were on their feet. They were certainly still trying however and lashed out over and over, but were unable to land a single hit. They received several deep lacerations to their arms as The Cleaners retaliated against them, and Crackle knew the twins needed help.

The Cleaners were V.I.L.E’s pride and joy for a reason, and they seemed completely tireless as they slashed out at anyone who neared them.

Crackle was vicious as he stabbed and swung his crackle rod, and he landed a hit on Vlad, but before he could shock him, a blade came at him from Boris. He went in for another attack, but no matter which Cleaner he went for, the other was always ready to defend their partner. Another knife swung out at him, and it grazed his arm as he leapt back to avoid it. Crackle knew they had to think of a new strategy. 

“Team, remember the sawmill?” he yelled over, “Work together in the same way!”

Neal and Dash exchanged a look, remembering perfectly what they had done to Carmen. Dash ran for his broken hat, and Neal followed behind to cover him as he went for it. Vlad and Boris were busy avoiding the twins and Crackle, but it was obvious they were still keeping an eye on what they were doing. When Dash reached for the broken hat, Neal suddenly shoved him out of the way as a blade unexpectedly stabbed deeply where Dash’s head had just been. 

Boris snatched up the blade before Neal could reach for it and he slashed down and caught Neal across the ribs. Neal hissed in pain, but he still dove down onto the ground to land a solid kick to Boris’ groin. Boris barely reacted, and only hesitated for a few seconds before he recovered enough to lash out again.

Dash now held the circular saw blade out of his hat, and he glanced to Neal in concern. Neal gave him a nod, and they split up, Dash taking one side and Neal taking the other. With the twins behind them and Crackle in front, they now had the Cleaners completely boxed in. 

Crackle made eye contact with his team, gave another nod and they began closing in. The Cleaners knew they were in a dangerous position, and so they went for who they perceived to be the weakest link. 

When The Cleaners charged straight towards him, Dash lowered himself into a solid stance and then lunged forward viciously. Not expecting Dash to go on the offensive, the Cleaners were taken off-guard and Dash landed a deep slash across Vlad’s arm. The knife fell to the floor, and as Boris slashed out at Dash to deliver a killing blow, he was suddenly knocked off his feet by Neal. He hit the ground hard and then slid backwards several feet. He layed stunned for just a moment, and then looked up just in time to see Roosevelt’s boot come down on his head with all of his strength. That was the last thing he saw before there was a loud and sickening crunch and everything went dark. Roosevelt stomped him a second time just to make sure and then flicked the blood and brain matter off his boot, expression absolutely ferocious.

Vlad stared for a moment at Boris’ body for a long moment, and then he rolled forward, grabbing up his knife before anyone could grab him. Spinning in place, he slashed Roosevelt across the leg, and then he ducked and rolled under the other man’s legs. Slashing upwards to stab him in the groin, his hand was suddenly pinned to the floor with Boris’ knife before he could make contact. 

Grimacing from the pain, he yanked his hand away from the knife, nearly splitting his hand in half in the process. Grabbing the knife with his other hand, he rolled again and knew there was no way he was going to win this fight. Making one last attempt to complete his mission, he ran for Paper Star, dodging around the others nimbly. Neal was faster than the others and he dove for Vlad, catching him by the legs. The Cleaner crashed to the floor hard, and then kicked Neal away from him, before he could be pinned.

Crackle stepped forward and landed a massive hit to Vlad's stomach with the crackle rod, but before he could shock him, Vlad lashed out and drove his elbow into Crackle’s face. Crackle staggered back as the crackle rod sparked dangerously, and Vlad knew he had to get the upper hand. He saw his opportunity as Neal dove in to trip him, and Vlad kicked Neal in the side of the head. Vlad then had his knife to Neal’s throat before anyone could react. Neal went very  **very** still, realizing he had messed up badly.

Paper Star saw what was happening, and although she was very weak, she crawled a few inches over and began stretching out an arm for the nearby table, her fingers reaching for what she knew was there.

As Vlad held Neal at knifepoint, he took this opportunity to catch his breath and come up with a plan of action. The rest of the team charged in to defend Neal, but Vlad turned merciless eyes on them.

“Stop,” Vlad warned, pressing the knife hard enough to draw blood.

Team Crackle froze, and stared at Vlad knowing there was nothing they could do to help Neal.

“You don’t have to kill us,” Neal told Vlad, trying his best to remain calm, “V.I.L.E doesn’t give a shit about you, so why should you care about them? Let us go and no one has to get hurt.”

“I do as I’m told and nothing more and nothing less,” Vlad replied, “It doesn’t matter whether my superiors care for me. Things like that are not my function within V.I.L.E. I will execute you all, or I will die. There will be no mercy for any-”

It was then that Vlad dropped dead to the floor, collapsing before he got out another word. Crackle stared in surprise, but then quickly shocked the body a few times just to be sure. Once he was certain Vlad was dead, he used a foot to roll him over so he could see what killed him. A surgical scalpel was lodged straight into Vlad’s heart. They turned to look at Paper Star who still had her hand outstretched from the throw. She then sagged limply onto the floor, her skin pale and sickly looking.

The whole team was out of breath, but they headed for their injured teammates, worried when they saw Otterman still wasn’t moving. Moose Boy had his hand pressed firmly over the gaping wound, and he turned terrified eyes to Crackle.

“His insides were on the outside!” he whispered in a panic, “We need to get him to a hospital! He’s losing too much blood!”

Crackle knelt down and looked at the wound and he grimaced, knowing how serious it was. “Do you need help carrying him?” he asked.

“ _ Nej _ ,” Moose Boy said firmly, “Sven doesn’t weigh much.”

Crackle then turned his attention to Paper Star.

“Hi,” he greeted her with a gentle smile.

“Hey,” she answered, too weak to even lift her head.

Once again Paper Star found the tears began to spill over, and Roosevelt very gently scooped her up. 

“Are you crying because all your pretty hair is gone?” he asked in concern.

“Roose, you dumbass!” Dash scolded incredulously, “She’s been traumatized!”

“Yes...it’s because of my hair,” Paper Star lied, averting her gaze.

Roose carefully wiped her tears away, and then ran a gentle hand over her shaved head. “Don’t worry, you’re still beautiful with or without hair. It’ll grow back. Don’t be sad anymore, we’re here now.”

Paper Star let out a low chuckle, barely able to keep her eyes open. “You idiots actually came for me,” she said softly. “Why?”

“Course we did!” Neal responded, leaning in with a smile. “You’re our girl! We’ll always come for you!”

Paper Star returned the smile, allowing her eyes to slip closed. “...thank you.”

“Let’s get out of here before more reinforcements arrive,” Crackle said, glancing towards the door.

Everyone nodded, and Moose Boy and Roosevelt carefully stood to their feet, worried they were going to hurt the person in their arms. They gave one last glance to the carnage around them, and then headed for the door.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The Faculty sat in complete silence as they stared at the large overhead screen. They watched as Team Crackle gathered their injured teammates, and then left the warehouse, no one knowing what to say. They exchanged a long and silent look between them, and it was Maelstrom who spoke up first.

“It appears that we have severely underestimated Team Crackle.”

Brunt stared at the screen where the bodies of The Cleaners could be seen laying in a puddle of blood. “They accomplished what no one else has ever managed to do…” she observed with a frown.

Cleo was looking absolutely furious about something and she reached for the remote without a word. She rewound the footage and then paused the video on Dash. She narrowed her eyes and then zoomed in, revealing his flawless and unscarred face.

“...how  **dare** he!” she sputtered indignantly, “He faked it all! Just so he could go back to playing at being a stupid operative!”

“Well, you must admit that he is truly a talented fighter,” Bellum pointed out, “Did you see how well the team works together? They didn’t even need to speak to each other during the fight. I’ve never seen operatives work so well together!”

“Indeed,” Maelstrom agreed, “I must admit that I’m curious of what they can accomplish now that they’re properly motivated.”

Roundabout frowned over at him. “You mean you want them to return to V.I.L.E?”

Maelstrom nodded. “Just imagine the destruction they could do for us! A team that could take down Volkov’s greatest creations! We need to utilize them.”

“They’ve betrayed us,” Brunt snapped, her eyes narrowed.

“Well, not really,” Roundabout pointed out, “We were the ones to betray them, and at this point they’re angry, but they haven’t made a move against us.”

“Bellum, you need to speak with Crackle,” Maelstrom ordered, “Tell him whatever he wants to hear. Get them back at all costs.”

Bellum frowned, but she could see the logic in this. “Do you think they can be trusted?”

“That remains to be seen,” Cleo replied, still glaring at the image of Dash, “I personally think they should be punished!”

“Who cares if the pretty boy lied?” Brunt challenged, “That just shows how talented he is at it. He lied right to your face and you didn’t pick up on it!”

Cleo frowned, not wanting to admit this was true.

“We still don’t know if they’ll be willing to return,” Bellum pointed out, “Crackle was incredibly angry when he spoke with me earlier.”

“Perhaps a few allowances will have to be given to Team Crackle to make them more cooperative?” Maelstrom suggested.

Bellum didn’t like the sound of that. “Oh? Like what?”

“Give them a bit more freedom,” Roundabout suggested, “Show them we trust them,”

“Preposterous!” Cleo protested, “Giving operatives freedom is a foolish idea!”

“These aren’t ordinary operatives,” Maelstrom pointed out, “Not anymore. This team is unique, and I think we should give this a try.”

“I’m against it,” Cleo said automatically, “I treated Dash kindly and respectfully, and look what he did to  **me** ! Lied and ran away like a petulant child!”

The others gave her a skeptical look.

“Well, I’ll reach out to Crackle and then go from there,” Bellum said, “He may be unwilling to even discuss it.”

“Keep us updated as soon as you reach him,” Maelstrom requested.

Bellum nodded, and then grabbed her com as she hopped down out of her faculty chair. She dialled Crackle’s number as she left the room, and like before it went straight to voicemail. Bellum wasn’t deterred, and she knew she had to decide what to say to Team Crackle. She would keep trying his com, and she knew eventually Crackle would take her call.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**The next chapter will finally return to Team Red and Team Vess. ** **I'm going to do my best to get the new chapter out in two weeks by the June 15th at the absolute latest. This chapter was way WAY too long and I almost didn't finish it in time. I likely won't have another chapter this length until the final chapter of the series.**

**A huge thank you to the super-talented artists who did artwork for this chapter!**

**Violetfic did four awesome pics this chapter! She did the pic of Plague Doctor, the pic of Matryoshka, the pic of Paper Star being tortured and the pic of Otterman getting sliced! **

**Coulrosaurus did the awesome pic of Paper Star inside the cage!**

**Missing Mime did the awesome pic of Neal hugging Dash!**

**MoonHunter did the awesome pic of Crackle speaking with Dr. Bellum!**

**Credit for the names of Otterman and Moose Boy go to Animedemon01**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**

**Please don't forget to let me know what you think! **


	27. The Long Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone!
> 
> The story is getting closer to the end now! ;-) I'm hoping to finish Broken in the next ten chapters unless I get carried away again. lol
> 
> An enormous thank you to the very awesome Violetfic and Coulrosaurus for offering plenty of good suggestions, and for being my betas! You guys really helped improve this chapter and you're awesome!
> 
> Please note that Dr. Vess and Michael Jr. both use the F-word extremely frequently in their everyday speech. You have been warned.
> 
> If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 27**

**The Long Recovery**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Siren’s dreams were disjointed and didn’t make a lot of sense. His dreams were mostly just flashing colours and sounds with no clear meaning. He felt like everything was spinning out of control, and his thoughts were incomplete and confused. He knew something was seriously wrong, but his mind couldn’t seem to comprehend it. He felt no pain, but there was a sensation of endless falling, making him feel constantly afraid.

After what seemed an eternity, the swirling colours and sounds settled into regular dreams, and his mind relaxed, the fear finally melting away. It was then that he felt pain, and he instinctively thought of his two brothers, the only two people in the whole world he trusted.

He dreamt of being stabbed and beaten and his brothers came to his rescue, protecting him from the faceless and shapeless assailant. He imagined his brother Roosevelt fighting the attacker while his brother Theodore shielded him. 

When the pain receded, his dreams shifted and the three of them were now all safe, happy and far from V.I.L.E. They were back in New Jersey living as a family.

Siren started drifting in and out of consciousness, his head pounding, and the darkness of sleep pulling at him incessantly. It felt like a heavy weight was in his mind, keeping him asleep, and Siren had a hard time resisting it. At one point he felt something cool placed on his forehead, but he was much too tired to open his eyes.

During one bout of semi-consciousness, he felt his entire body jostled as he was moved, heard a lot of aggravated yelling, heard some arguing, and then he fell back to sleep, too tired to make sense of it.

The second time he woke, he was in a tremendous amount of pain and was able to open his eyes a crack. He saw glimpses of white all around him, and multitudes of beeping machines, and he blinked heavily. He then saw Vess lean over him, shine a penlight into his eyes, and then reach towards one of the machines to adjust his medication. Allowing his head to fall back against the pillow limply, Siren drifted back into sleep as he heard Vess muttering to himself irritably.

The third time he woke, he was in terrible pain and incredibly confused. Everything was dark around him, and he was instantly afraid.

“Teddy?” he called out weakly, closing his eyes, “Roose?”

He felt a gentle hand brush his hair out of his face.

“Ted?” Siren questioned.

“Shh, you shouldn’t be awake,” a familiar voice softly chided, “Go back to sleep, it’s really late.”

The voice was familiar, but Siren couldn’t place it, his mind too confused. When he opened his eyes, all he saw was shadows and darkness.

“Teddy...it hurts…” Siren complained, his eyes closing again.

“Hurts? What hurts?” the voice asked in concern, “Should I get Vess?”

Siren didn’t answer, but he groaned as he tried to move.

“I’m waking Vess, just hold on,” the voice told him, “Don’t try to move,”

Siren drifted back to a light sleep, but was awoken when he felt hands checking him over. He let out a small pained noise, and the hands became a little more gentle.

“The morphine wore off,” Vess said, “I’ll give him a bit more so he’ll sleep through the night, but I don’t want him to become reliant on it.”

“He’s been calling for Ted again.”

Vess let out a sigh. “I was hoping we’d gotten rid of those hallucinations, but clearly not. Keep an eye on him and don’t wake me again unless it’s an emergency.”

Siren felt a rush of cold enter his arm and the pain melted away in an instant. Letting out a deep breath of relief, he fell back asleep.

When Siren next awoke, he was a bit more alert and he opened his eyes, knowing he was in the medical ward. Blinking a few times, he could make out the machines beside him, and he winced at the brightness of the room around him. He wasn’t in much pain, but every part of him felt stiff and sore, and he didn’t want to move. Remembering why he was injured in the first place, Siren hoped his plan had worked, and Vess had fallen for the lie.

Blinking tiredly, he glanced over, and was met with the sight of a Kevin sitting beside his bed reading a book. Braxton had clearly been replaced, and Siren felt relieved, but then annoyed that he was still stuck with a guard. The Kevin’s helmet reflected Siren's bruised and battered face back at him, and he realized Michael had **really** beaten him badly. His head was in agony, and his whole body felt tired and sore. His eyes travelled around the room, but he was completely alone with the Kevin. The other man was sitting right beside his elbow and just the proximity was enough to make him bristle.

“You’re sitting too close to me,” Siren grumbled at the other man, “Get away from me!”

“Oh, you’re awake!” the guard said in surprise, setting aside his book.

Siren now recognized the voice. “Ter-Kevin?!” he asked in surprise.

Terry gave him an amused look. “Did you just almost say my name?”

Siren shot him a grumpy look. “No.”

Terry edged over a bit closer and looked him up and down. “How are you feeling?”

Siren stared at Terry with a frown, and then reached out a hand towards him. Terry allowed it and was taken by surprise when Siren suddenly yanked his helmet off. Siren stared at Terry’s face for a long moment and then tossed the helmet across the room.

“I don’t like it, leave it off,” Siren ordered.

“What did you do that for?!” Terry demanded, crossing the room for his helmet, “It’s against regulation to take off my helmet during work hours.”

“I don’t like it,” Siren repeated, “I can’t tell you from any of the other Kevin’s with it on. Leave it off.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Terry replied, putting the helmet back on.

Siren reached for the helmet again, but this time Terry leaned out of his reach. 

“Knock it off,” Terry scolded, “You’re supposed to be resting.”

“What happened to the gorilla?” Siren demanded, “Did Vess shoot him?”

Terry blinked. “Gorilla? What are you talking about?”

“Gorilla Kevin,” Siren specified.

Terry frowned. “Do you mean your previous guard? Braxton?”

Siren nodded, and then winced when the motion hurt. “Did Vess kill him?”

“What? No, of course not! Why would Vess kill him? He fired him, but he didn’t kill him.”

Siren scowled. Just the thought of Braxton lurking somewhere out in the world was enough to make him feel uneasy.

“Are you my Kevin again?” Siren demanded.

“It appears so,” Terry replied, “Apparently I’m the only one who can handle being near you for any extended period of time.”

“Good, at least you don’t hit me,” Siren replied, raising a hand up to touch the bruises and cuts on his face.

“I’ve been given authorization to hit you as much as I deem necessary,” Terry informed him.

Siren looked up at him in complete alarm, but Terry quickly continued.

“But I’m not going to hit you,” he promised, “It’s ridiculous that they actually expect me to beat someone just because they’re a spoiled little shit.”

Siren eyed him a bit warily. “You hate me, why wouldn’t you jump at the chance to beat the shit out of me anytime you wanted?”

Terry frowned down at him. “I don’t hate you, I’m annoyed by you. There’s a big difference, believe me.”

Siren stared back at him, not quite sure what to think about that, but his thoughts were interrupted when the door suddenly opened. A nurse came in, glanced at Siren and seemed a bit surprised.

“Oh, you’re awake!” she exclaimed.

“Very observant,” Siren snapped, glaring over at her, “Did you graduate top of your class in medical school to make such a profound observation?”

The nurse seemed a bit taken aback by his rudeness, but she brushed it aside as she approached the nearby table. Without saying a word, she reached for a blender and removed the top. Siren watched as she reached for a nearby container of protein powder and added 2 large scoops to the blender cup, and then she opened the bag she had brought with her. She added spinach, kale, a carrot, a peeled orange, and what looked like trail mix, and then added a few pills and milk before blending it all together until it was smooth. Siren just watched her in disbelief, having no idea what she was doing. When she was finished, she lifted the cup off the blender and set it aside for a moment.

“What are you doing?” Siren demanded, “Lunchroom out of order or something?”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I’m preparing your lunch,” she responded, pouring the smoothie into some sort of plastic container.

Siren stared at the brownish-green goop, and narrowed his eyes. “I am **not** drinking that,” he said firmly.

“You don’t have to,” the nurse assured him, approaching the bed.

Siren stared at her in confusion, and when she pulled aside the blankets covering him, and lifted his shirt, he looked down. To his horror, he saw a plastic tube sticking out of his stomach. He glanced back at what she was holding and saw the smoothie had been placed into a feeding syringe. Vess had put a feeding tube in him when he’d been unconscious.

He reached down and touched the tube in his stomach, and as the nurse approached him, he felt rage fill him. She reached towards him, and without hesitation, he kicked her as hard as he could in the stomach, ignoring the pain this caused him. The nurse let out a startled gasp as she stumbled back away from him, and she dropped the syringe to the floor as she clutched at her stomach.

“SIREN!” Terry bellowed, “What did you do that for?!”

Siren was absolutely furious, and he whipped everything within reach at the nurse. “Stay away from me!” he snarled, “You’re not touching me!”

The nurse backed away, and her expression quickly turned angry. “I’ll be informing Dr. Vess about this!”

“Good!” Siren roared at her, “I’ll kick **him** too!”

The nurse gave him a dirty look and then left the room, intending on tattling to Vess. The second she was gone, Siren relaxed a bit and then reached down a hand towards the tube. The skin around the tube was a bit sore, but it didn’t actually hurt very much.

Terry sighed, and gave Siren a tired look. “You’ve been awake for less than five minutes and you’re already being a rotten little shit. Is this what I have to look forward to?”

Siren began tugging at the tube in his stomach and Terry hurriedly reached down to pull his hands away from it. 

“Stop that, you’re going to hurt yourself!” he scolded.

“He put a fucking tube in my stomach!” Siren yelled, struggling against him.

Siren was still incredibly weak and injured, and Terry was able to easily pin him down.

“I understand you’re upset over this, but perhaps there was a reason for it?” Terry told him calmly, “Why don’t we wait to speak with Dr. Vess about it, and find out what happened?”

Siren glared up at him for a moment and then took a deep breath and nodded. Terry released him, and Siren glared towards the door, knowing Vess would soon be coming. He didn’t have to wait long, and only a few minutes later the door was slammed open and Vess stormed in looking furious.

“Did you kick one of my nurses?” he demanded.

“No.”

Vess narrowed his eyes at the obvious lie. “She was here on my orders, and you will **not** interfere with her job again, am I clear?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Siren insisted grumpily.

“Why did you kick her?” Vess demanded, “I was right in the middle of an important experiment, and you interrupted it!”

“You put a hole through my stomach!” Siren snarled, pointing to the tube.

Vess sighed. “Is that what this is all about?”

“Take it out!” Siren ordered, “**Now**!”

“You were unconscious for over a week,” Vess explained, “You were getting weaker, and you would have died without it. This way I can actually make sure you’re eating appropriately. The nutritionist designed a diet plan for you, and you should begin putting on weight fairly rapidly.”

“**No**, I don’t want it, take it out!” Siren snapped.

“Don’t be stupid,” Vess snapped, “You refuse to eat, and I’m not going to let you starve to death. Perhaps after you’ve gained a bit of weight and you’ve proven you can be trusted to eat, I’ll consider taking it out.”

Vess knelt down and picked the food syringe off the floor and then crossed the room to sanitize it. Siren watched him clean it, and then tensed as Vess turned back towards him.

“It doesn’t hurt if that’s what you’re worried about,” Vess commented, “You’ll barely notice it.”

“You’re not touching me!” Siren snarled, placing his hands over his stomach.

Vess narrowed his eyes, and approached the bed. Siren glared up at him, and waited until he neared before he lashed out with a foot and kicked Vess solidly in the stomach. Vess let out a grunt of surprise, and fell back a step, but wasn’t overly hurt. 

Vess stared at Siren for a moment, unable to believe he actually dared do that before his expression turned furious. Reaching out, he seized Siren by the ankle and gave it a sharp twist eliciting a shrill scream of pain. Keeping the ankle in the uncomfortable position, Vess loomed over him furiously.

“Try that again, and I **swear** I’ll snap your ankle!” he hissed, “You do **not** kick or lash out at me like a toddler, or I will restrain you to this bed!”

Siren was writhing in agony and he wailed at the pain as Vess held his ankle in the unnatural position. This was when Terry suddenly surged forward and grabbed Vess by the wrist and forcibly removed his hand away from Siren. Siren immediately curled into a sobbing ball as Vess stared at Terry in complete shock.

“How **dare** you!” Vess hissed out furiously.

“No, how dare **you** !” Terry snarled back, crossing his arms, “You will **not** lay a hand on Siren as long as I’m his guard! You’re his superior and so **act** like it! You have no right to abuse him!”

“Are you **trying** to get yourself fired?” Vess demanded, expression getting angrier by the second. “I can have you shipped off within the hour!”

Terry wasn’t backing down and he met Vess’ gaze fiercely. “You brought me back to be Siren’s guard and to protect him, and I **will** do my job even if that means protecting him from **you** ! You will **not** hurt him like this again as long as I'm here! **No one** will harm him, and nothing like what happened in the basement will **ever** happen again. I am Siren’s guard, and I **will** protect him.”

Vess stared at him in silent fury for a few moments, but he knew this was exactly what he had wanted. He wanted a guard to unquestionably protect Siren from any and all harm, and that’s what he got.

“Touch me again, Terrence, and you and I will have a problem,” Vess snapped, turning his gaze to Siren.

Siren was sobbing pathetically, and Vess reached down to forcibly roll him over. Siren struggled against him, but he didn’t dare lash out again. Vess pinned him on his back as he removed the cap on Siren’s feeding tube, and without a word, he injected the food syringe into it. Siren hated the sensation as he felt the cold food enter his stomach, and he struggled even harder, but Vess easily held him in place as he flushed the feeding tube with a bit of water to clean it. 

Setting the syringe aside, Vess then did a quick check of Siren’s stitches and bruises, adjusted his morphine pump, and then finally released him. Siren immediately curled back into the fetal position crying, and Vess shot Terry another glare, before glowering down at Siren.

“Don’t give the nurses a hard time ever again,” he warned, “If you interrupt my work even once more for this childish nonsense, you will have privileges revoked.”

Siren didn’t answer, and so Vess turned and left without another word. Terry watched him go, and then relaxed his posture as he looked down at Siren. 

“Siren, are you alright?” he asked gently, resting a hand on Siren’s side.

Siren immediately flinched like he was going to be struck, and then he lashed out at Terry defensively. Terry easily caught the hand, and Siren went limp, simply crying in misery. Terry continued holding the hand, and after a moment, Siren tightened his grip in return. Terry knew it wasn’t a lot of comfort, but it seemed to help as Siren hung onto him like his life depended on it.

“I-I can’t stay here,” Siren said in a small shaky voice, “I have to leave…”

Terry was silent, knowing this was something that should be reported. Siren had all but said he wanted to defect, but Terry found that he really didn’t care about that.

“You’re right,” Terry agreed, “You shouldn’t be here. V.I.L.E is no place for you.”

“Help me,” Siren begged, “Help me get out of this place!”

Terry fell silent again, knowing he could be executed for even having this conversation. “I have a family, Siren, I can’t be involved in this.”

“...please.”

Terry looked down at him, and he saw how miserable and beaten the other man was, and he felt guilty. How could he leave someone like Siren to be used and abused in such a terrible way? Siren needed professional mental help, and this was something that would never happen at V.I.L.E.

Terry gave Siren a slow nod.

“What do you need me to do?”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Le Chèvre glanced down at his com, and then subtly turned his gaze to Mime Bomb who was sitting cross-legged on the end of Carmen’s bed, enthusiastically telling her about the day he’d had with Zack as the other boy translated. Mime Bomb was almost fully recovered, and he’d been venturing out every day with Zack and Ivy to explore the city. Carmen was a lot slower to heal, and she’d been getting increasingly depressed as the days passed. She’d now been bed-bound for over a month, and it would still be weeks before she could even attempt to walk. The rest of the team had been doing their best to remain cheerful around her, but everyone could see how Carmen looked utterly defeated.

Carmen barely ate and Shadowsan was constantly nagging at her to eat, drink, or take care of herself. She seemed to perk up a bit when her team told her about their day, and so they all made a point of telling her everything interesting they’d seen or tasted in the city. Zack had begun bringing foods for her to taste from the various restaurants, and she usually indulged him by tasting what he brought.

Carmen slept a lot more as the days passed, and they were all worrying about her. Carmen began speaking daily with Mime Bomb’s therapist, Dr. Brownswell, and the woman took her on as a patient without hesitation once Mime Bomb explained. The therapy sessions seemed to be working, and Carmen was very slowly starting to show signs of improvement.

Le Chèvre felt like the whole team was falling apart, and he knew they were sitting ducks the longer they stayed in Kazakhstan. He knew the best thing would be to leave the team, but El Topo was loyal to Carmen, and he refused to abandon her. Le Chèvre felt like El Topo was thinking with his heart instead of his mind, and knew he had to protect his partner at all costs.

Le Chèvre glanced again at Mime Bomb, and narrowed his eyes at the other man. He detested everything about the mime, and knew he was the weakest one in the team. All of this mess was because of him, and he blamed him entirely for everything. He and El Topo were sent by V.I.L.E to kill the mime, and this was what led to Le Chèvre’s capture by the Finnegan’s and subsequently his injuries. It was because of Mime Bomb that Player was kidnapped, and it was because of Mime Bomb that they were still in danger. Everything could be linked to the mime.

Le Chèvre stared at Mime Bomb as the other man smiled at Carmen, and then clenched his fists. The mime had no right to look so unbothered by all of this. He was endangering them all, but yet he still stayed with the team instead of leaving. Le Chèvre felt certain it was pure selfishness that made him stay, and over the last month, Le Chèvre had been stewing about it.

Le Chèvre had thought long and hard about Vess’ offer, and when the doctor had called him back, he had agreed to the deal. He would give him Mime Bomb and Vess would correct Le Chèvre’s lung condition. Vess had seemed completely ecstatic about this, and was going to send men to collect Mime Bomb immediately. Le Chèvre refused and told him about the recent surgery and that he’d have no way of getting Mime Bomb alone until he recovered. 

Although annoyed, Vess had reluctantly agreed. He stated that he would be sending several operatives to the city within the next few weeks to wait for the perfect moment they could take him. Once Mime Bomb had been captured, Vess would send someone to collect Le Chèvre for the surgery. Le Chèvre would then be welcomed back to V.I.L.E without prejudice. Le Chèvre knew this would be his best bet for survival, and once Team Red disbanded, El Topo would go with him. They’d go back to being operatives and everything would go back to the way it was supposed to be.

The mysterious Russians had been calling Carmen for updates on Mime Bomb, and so far they’d been given no proof that Player was even still alive. Le Chèvre knew the Russians couldn’t be put off for too much longer, and he hoped Vess would find a way to nab the mime shortly. He’d provided Vess with the hospital information as well as the hotel name they were staying at, and so it was only a matter of time before V.I.L.E made their move.

“You’re awfully quiet over there, JP,” Ivy suddenly said, “Everything okay?”

Le Chèvre looked up at her and realized he’d gotten lost in thought. “I’m fine,” he replied, “I was just thinking about everything that’s happened since we left V.I.L.E.”

El Topo reached over and took his hand. “I know it looks bad right now, _ mi amor, _ but everything will work out. We’ll get Player back, and we’ll keep fighting.”

Le Chèvre stared down at El Topo’s smiling face and instantly felt guilty. He knew El Topo wouldn’t approve of what he was going to do, and so he hadn’t told him. He knew how close El Topo had grown to the others, and his actions would be seen as a complete betrayal. The only thing he could do was hope that El Topo loved him enough to choose him over Team Red when the time came. The thought of El Topo leaving him was the worst thing he could imagine, and he knew it was a real possibility. 

Reaching out, he wrapped an arm around his partner, wanting to reassure himself that everything would be fine.

“Why don’t we grab some supper?” Zack suggested, “I’m starving, and it’s getting late.”

“Like what?” Tigress demanded, “No burgers.”

“I saw an Italian place next to the art museum,” El Topo suggested, “It looked interesting.”

“I’m good with Italian,” Chase commented, looking up from his paperwork.

Chase had been compiling everything they knew about Mime Bomb, the lab, the Russians, and Player in an attempt to find clues. He’d been working obsessively on it, and he’d barely taken a break all month from investigating. Chase had called several contacts he had around the world, but no one knew anything about Volkov or Player. Julia was constantly worrying about how hard Chase was working, and no matter what anyone said, he didn’t slow down. He was convinced he was onto something, but when he tried to explain his logic, no one else could see the connections he did. Carmen suspected he needed several nights' sleep to calm him down, but Chase refused. He slept very little, he inhaled way too much coffee, and he only ate if it was brought to him. The fact he seemed interested in supper was surprising and the others were quick to agree.

“Italian is fine,” Carmen said.

“It’ll do, I guess,” Tigress commented with a roll of her eyes.

Mime Bomb gave him a thumb’s up, and Zack grinned. “Great, everyone write down what you want and I’ll do my best!”

“You won’t be able to carry that much by yourself, Bro,” Ivy pointed out.

“I’ll go with him,” Le Chèvre found himself saying, “I could use the exercise.”

Zack gave him a nod. “Great, Jean Paul, thanks!”

“You want me to come along?” El Topo asked.

Le Chèvre gave him a fond smile. “No, you stay here and finish watching your movie.”

El Topo returned the smile and then glanced back to his com to resume watching. He’d been binge-watching the Fast and Furious movies and he was now on number five. They didn’t interest Le Chèvre, but he still kept El Topo company as he watched them.

Everyone passed around a notepad as they wrote down what they wanted, and then Zack shoved it into his pocket and stood up. As Le Chèvre followed Zack out of the hospital room, he was annoyed when Mime Bomb got up to follow.

“Oh, you coming too, buddy?” Zack questioned.

Mime Bomb gave a nod and signed something. Zack immediately rolled his eyes.

“I’m not going to get your order wrong,” he responded, “Make a mistake once and you never let a guy forget it.”

Mime Bomb shook his head and held up 4 fingers.

Zack rolled his eyes again. “Okay, fine, make a mistake **four** times and you never let a guy forget it,” he corrected, “Come on then. We can use the help carrying.”

Le Chèvre shot the mime a glare who didn’t seem to notice the hostile look. He fell in step beside Zack as Le Chèvre followed behind them angrily. He just wanted a few minutes without Mime Bomb’s constant presence, but clearly he wasn’t even going to be allowed that. 

Mime Bomb had only just gotten out of the wheelchair a few days prior, and the mime was eager to get his stamina back. He insisted on going out daily with the others, and he was so oblivious that it made Le Chèvre sick. Mime Bomb kept trying to be friends with him, and no matter how many times Le Chèvre brushed him off, he kept trying. Le Chèvre knew Mime Bomb was the weakest member of the team, and he felt certain he was only trying to befriend him so he’d be protected. It disgusted Le Chèvre to no end. He was putting everyone else in danger and didn’t even seem to care. Le Chèvre had never depended on anyone before, and saw it as a complete weakness.

They walked through the nearby streets slowly, Mime Bomb still not able to walk very fast. Le Chèvre glared at the back of his head as they walked, unable to wait for when he could finally return to V.I.L.E. He was a good operative, and other than the few times Carmen thwarted them, he and El Topo completed every mission. He felt certain V.I.L.E would appreciate having them back, and Le Chèvre longed for it. He wanted to be a thief, he wanted the thrill of it, and he wanted to climb again. V.I.L.E could give all of that to him. The only thing that would make everything perfect was if El Topo joined him.

Mime Bomb and Zack were signing back and forth, not paying him any attention and Le Chèvre took a few deep breaths as his chest began to pain. He refused to mention it and kept walking, knowing he would soon have the damage repaired. As they crossed the square, Le Chèvre was forced to pull his inhaler out of his pocket and take a couple puffs to calm his ragged breathing. The sound made Zack and Mime Bomb turn around, and they stopped walking.

“Jean Paul?” Zack questioned, “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Le Chèvre snapped, taking a third puff.

“Should we sit down for a few minutes?” Zack asked, glancing around for the nearest bench.

“I said I’m fine!” Le Chèvre snapped.

Both men were staring at him in complete concern, and it only aggravated him further. They both looked so genuine, but he knew it had to be fake. No one was really like this, and they only wanted him healthy so they could use him. 

“Hey man, it’s okay,” Zack assured him, “I think Mime Bomb needs to rest a minute anyway, right bud?”

Mime Bomb nodded, and suddenly put on a show of seeming to be exhausted. Le Chèvre did not appreciate it, and knew the mime was just making fun of him. When Mime Bomb reached out to help him, Le Chèvre slapped his hand away harshly.

Mime Bomb flinched back, and then gave him an uncertain look as if just now realizing how angry the other man was.

“Hey, not cool!” Zack scolded, “You didn’t have to do that!”

“Look, _ le crétin _ , I don’t want you or **him** anywhere near-”

Le Chèvre cut off abruptly when two black vans pulled up on either side of them. They stared in surprise as several men jumped out of the van, and without hesitation, they headed straight for Mime Bomb. Realizing Vess’ men were making their move, Le Chèvre stepped back to watch as they headed for the mime.

Zack instantly stepped in front of Mime Bomb. “Who are you? What do you want?” he demanded, raising his fists.

The men said nothing, and so Zack took a swing at the first one to reach them, and he landed a solid hit to the man’s stomach. Someone else struck Zack across the face, and Mime Bomb lashed out at the man in an attempt to protect Zack. Two men seized Mime Bomb before the hit ever landed and he began struggling like a wildcat in an attempt to break free. Zack lunged at the men, but two others kicked him down to the ground, and blocked his way.

Zack looked up and his gaze met Le Chèvre’s who was simply standing there watching.

“Help!” Zack cried out, “They’re taking Mime Bomb! Help him! Jean Paul!”

Le Chèvre crossed his arms and simply watched. Mime Bomb stared at him with wide eyes, and the betrayal that shone in those blue eyes made Le Chèvre avert his gaze.

“JEAN PAUL!” Zack bellowed out as he was pinned to the sidewalk. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! HELP HIM!”

Le Chèvre didn’t move, and Mime Bomb was tossed over one of the men’s shoulders as they headed back for the van. Mime Bomb kicked and struggled uselessly, and Zack screamed in fury, unable to move. Most of the men crawled in the van with Mime Bomb, and two remained behind to pin Zack to the ground. The van screeched away as Zack screamed in despair, and once it was gone from sight, the men released Zack who immediately began swinging at the men. One of them backhanded him hard enough to send him sprawling back to the pavement, and he clutched his face as the men got in the other van.

“Where are you taking him?!” Zack yelled, rolling back to his feet, “Where are you taking my brother?!”

The van pulled away and Zack ran after it, still screaming. The van sped up and Zack stopped, standing in the middle of the road, completely shellshocked. Mime Bomb was taken, and they had no idea where he was going. Zack’s eyes blurred with tears, furious with himself that he wasn’t able to protect the other boy. He’d promised to protect him and he failed. Zack let out a yell of fury, and wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. He then stiffened and whirled to face Le Chèvre.

“YOU!” he snarled, stalking towards the other man, “You just watched as Mime Bomb was taken! You never even tried to help him!”

“I froze,” Le Chèvre responded, turning away. “I’m sorry.”

“He needed you, and you did **nothing** !” Zack hissed, wiping more tears aside, “You were **useless**!”

“My asthma was bad, and I was taken by surprise. I’m sorry,” Le Chèvre said again.

Zack shook his head, and then turned away. “We need to tell the others! I’m going to call them.”

Le Chèvre watched as Zack pulled out his com to make the call, and Le Chèvre took that opportunity to walk away from the other man. Once he was a few streets away, he pulled out his own com, and dialled Vess’ number.

It rang and rang, and when it was finally answered, he was met with the sight of Michael Jr.

“Yo,” Michael greeted, “Numa’s in the shitter. Can I take a message?”

Le Chèvre hesitated for a long moment. “No, I really need to speak with Vess…”

“Well, he’s kinda busy if you know what I mean…”

Suddenly a voice came from the background. “Michael? Who’s on the phone?”

Michael glanced over his shoulder and shrugged. “Dunno, some guy looking for **you**.”

“Michael!” the voice scolded angrily, “How many times have I told you not to answer my com?”

Michael rolled his eyes. A moment later, Vess’ face appeared on the screen. He seemed a bit surprised to see Le Chèvre and he frowned.

“Le Chèvre,” he greeted, “What happened? Is everything alright?”

“Everything went perfectly,” Le Chèvre assured him.

“Then why are you calling me?” Vess demanded impatiently, “I’m incredibly busy.”

“I just wanted to find out when El Topo and I will be picked up to be returned to V.I.L.E.”

“That will be arranged after my men collect Mime Bomb. Until then, no exact date can be arranged.”

Le Chèvre gave him a smile. “Then you’ll be happy to know that your men collected Mime Bomb without issue, and he’s on his way to you now.”

Vess blanched. “What?”

“Mime Bomb was just picked up a few minutes ago,” Le Chèvre told him.

Vess simply stared at him. “Is this some sort of joke?” he demanded.

Le Chèvre was instantly confused. “No, why?”

Vess narrowed his eyes. “I haven’t sent any men to collect Mime Bomb yet.”

Le Chèvre’s eyes widened. “What?!”

Vess’ expression became furious and he glared hatefully at Le Chèvre. “Whoever you just let take Mime Bomb was **not** V.I.L.E,” Vess snapped, “Now we have no idea where he is, or who has him. You have once again made me lose him, and this failure will **not** be forgotten.”

Le Chèvre gaped in shock. “There has to be some mistake!” he insisted, “Are you sure it wasn’t your men?”

Vess narrowed his eyes until they were barely a slit. “You will **never** be welcomed back to V.I.L.E and you have made an enemy of me, Le Chèvre. I know where you are, and you can be certain I’ll be informing the head faculty about your location and the fact Carmen Sandiego is still alive.”

“Wait, wait!” Le Chèvre insisted, “I can make this right! I’ll get him back!”

“You had your chance, and you **failed** . I have no use for such a pathetic operative. I’ll now have to trace him down through alternate means. Someone in the criminal world has him, and I **will** find him. Don’t contact me again.”

Vess disconnected the call and Le Chèvre was left staring at the blank screen, feeling like someone had just kicked him in the stomach. He tried to call Vess back but discovered his number had been blocked. Le Chèvre raised his hands to his face. 

What had he done?

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

“Henrik, this is ridiculous!” Otterman protested in annoyance, “I can walk!”

“_ Nej _,” Moose Boy said firmly, not loosening his grip in the least.

“The doctors said I can walk short distances if I’m careful,” Otterman argued, “I’m not going to rip my stitches.”

“_ Nej _,” Moose Boy repeated.

“I feel fine, really,” Otterman assured him, “Nothing vital was damaged, and the doctors completely numbed the area. I want to walk on my own.”

“** _Nej_ **,” Moose Boy said even more firmly.

“You’re being ridiculous!” Otterman protested, “Put me **down**, Henrik!”

“** _NEJ_ **,” Moose Boy said, his tone starting to grow annoyed, “Every time I let you go, you get hurt.”

“That is **not** true!” Otterman argued, squirming against Moose Boy’s iron hold, “You can’t keep carrying me forever!”

“Watch me.”

Otterman turned his gaze to Crackle. “Graham, tell him I’m fine to walk. This is getting embarrassing! People are staring!”

Crackle didn’t even glance in his direction. “Suck it up,” he responded, opening the front door to the hotel. “Henrik was really worried about you. We all were.”

Otterman sighed heavily and then crossed his arms grumpily as Moose Boy carried him into the hotel. He glanced over at Paper Star who walked unaided beside the twins. Her arm was in a cast and she was covered in bruises, but she was looking a lot better than before. She met his gaze and then rolled her eyes at him. Otterman’s cheeks coloured, but he said nothing as they walked through the hotel lobby towards the elevator.

“Sooo, Sven,” Neal said with a cheeky grin, “How was your caesarean? Did you have a boy or a girl?”

Otterman let out another sigh. “I’m not in the mood, Neal.”

“You’re so hostile!” Neal teased, “It must be all the new ‘mommy’ hormones.”

“Stop teasing, Sven,” Moose Boy scolded, “He doesn’t like it.”

“Just joking around, love,” Neal assured him, “Sven knows how I am.”

“I **do** unfortunately,” Otterman grumbled.

“Neal is like a fungal infection,” Dash commented, “You don’t want him, but he’s extremely difficult to get rid of.”

Neal elbowed Dash with good nature. “You’d know all about fungal infections, wouldn’t you Dashie?”

Dash elbowed him back.

“They have a cream for that sort of thing, you know,” Neal informed him in amusement.

“Neal, why don’t you go get stuck in a vent somewhere?” Dash demanded, “You’re really annoying today.”

“No bickering,” Crackle scolded, flashing them a tired look, “Why don’t we just relax for the evening, without any drama? We catch our plane early in the morning and I’m tired.”

Everyone went quiet and Crackle gave a nod of approval. It had been three days since they rescued Paper Star, and he knew it was too dangerous to remain in Japan any longer. The hospital believed Otterman and Paper Star had been in a serious car accident, and not too many questions were asked about the injuries. Otterman had been extremely lucky that no organs had been damaged, and since the slice was a clean cut, the doctors were able to stitch him up without any issue. He’d be extremely sore for several weeks, but he’d be fine.

Crackle just wanted to get a good night’s sleep, and then catch their plane back to The United States. Crackle knew they would need to find a more permanent base once they arrived, and they’d always have to be on the look-out for V.I.L.E coming after them.

When they reached their room, everyone felt relieved. Moose Boy immediately approached one of the beds to lay Otterman down, and Paper Star headed for the bathroom, presumably to shower. Dash took a seat on his bed and pulled Steve into his arms, glad that they could finally relax for a bit. They had pushed all the beds from the two suites into one room, no one wanting to be separated after such an ordeal.

“I’m going to put a movie on,” Neal announced, crossing the room towards the television, “Anyone care what movie?”

Everyone shook their heads, and so Neal picked up the remote, and turned the television on. Crackle got undressed for bed and then powered on his com and plugged it in to charge. Settling himself down to watch whatever cringey comedy Neal picked out, he relaxed and gave a tired stretch. The others got ready for bed as well, and Dash approached the bathroom door, pajamas in hand. He knocked on the door, and then opened it a crack to slip the pajamas in to Paper Star. She had no clothes of her own at the moment and had been wearing whatever fit from the others for the time being. She didn’t complain about this, and had in fact been very quiet since they left the hospital. She always seemed lost in thought, and so the others gave her space, knowing she’d been through a lot.

Dash returned a few moments later, and took a seat beside Graham, pulling his dufflebag over so he could rummage through it. Crackle watched as Dash began meticulously removing his makeup using a hand-mirror and several foul smelling products, but he didn’t say a word. Neal kept glancing over now and then, and when Dash was finally finished, Neal shot him a grin.

“The freckles have returned!”

Dash rolled his eyes and put his things away, not wanting to acknowledge the teasing.

“Graham,” Theodore said, looking a bit uncertain.

Crackle looked up. “Yeah?”

“We can’t return to the motel, can we?”

Crackle shook his head. “No, V.I.L.E knows where we were staying, and they’ll likely be watching the motel.”

“Then what are we gonna do? Where are we going?” Theodore asked, “Gwen and Paper Star are both hurt, and they need time to get better.”

“I’ve been searching for a base,” Crackle informed him, “I have a few ideas.”

“Really?” Otterman asked, “Where were you thinking?”

“San Diego.”

Otterman blinked. “Wait...**what**? V.I.L.E will be looking for us there!”

“Carmen Sandiego’s base is in San Diego, and until we can confirm she’s dead, I want us to keep patrolling the area.”

Everyone turned to stare at him in disbelief. “We’re no longer with V.I.L.E,” Dash pointed out, “Who cares if she’s dead?”

Crackle frowned. “I do,” he said firmly.

Dash crossed his arms. “Why?” he demanded.

“Carmen Sandiego is going down, not because of V.I.L.E’s orders, but because of what she did to you and Neal. No one - and I mean **no one **\- abuses my team and gets away with it. I will make her pay for what she did. Until it’s confirmed she’s dead, we’re staying in San Diego.”

Everyone exchanged looks, knowing how risky this was going to be. No one commented however, knowing Crackle had never let them down before and they trusted his judgement. 

Suddenly Crackle’s com began ringing. He glanced over at it and narrowed his eyes. Picking it up, he saw it was Dr. Bellum. He dismissed the call, but only seconds later it was ringing again. Crackle rolled his eyes and turned the volume off on his com and then tossed it aside, having absolutely no intention of answering it. Settling himself back down, he turned his attention back to the television. 

Everyone watched the movie in silence, and when Paper Star came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, she was looking a lot more relaxed. The sleeves and legs of her pajamas were much too long, but she didn’t seem to mind, simply looking around for where she’d be sleeping. When she realized she’d be bunked with Neal, she didn’t say a word about it, but she gave a slight frown.

“How are you feeling?” Crackle asked her, “Did the shower help with your stiffness?”

“A bit,” Paper Star answered, averting his eyes from him.

“Do you want a painkiller to help you sleep?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, taking a seat on the bed next to Neal, “I’m just tired.”

Neal glanced over at her. “You want me to turn the movie off, love?”

She shook her head. “No, the noise doesn’t bother me.”

“You should sleep too, Sven,” Moose Boy said, giving his partner a worried look.

Otterman rolled his eyes. “I’m fine, I’m watching the movie.”

“But-”

Otterman shot him a glare and Moose Boy fell quiet, simply fretting internally. The twins were laughing loudly and hysterically at the cheesy comedy, and the sight of them enjoying such a ridiculous movie lightened the mood in the room. Neal laughed right along with them, and even Paper Star cracked an amused smile at them. When the movie was finally over, most of Team Crackle were asleep and Neal turned the tv off before getting up to turn out the lights. He glanced around at his team, and felt relieved they were all safe. Would they be so lucky next time though?

Grimacing at the thought, he headed back for his bed and crawled under the sheets. Settling himself down and making sure to give Paper Star a lot of space, Neal fell asleep, still worrying about his teammates.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Le Chèvre sat head in hand, unable to move, and unable to believe how badly he had messed up. He had single-handedly ruined **everything**. V.I.L.E would never take him back, and Team Red would immediately expel him from the group. How could he have been so stupid?

He thought of Mime Bomb and felt a wave of guilt come over him. He had just sent the mime to his death for absolutely no reason. As much as he disliked the other man, he didn’t actually want to see him dead. At least with Vess, the doctor wanted to just study Mime Bomb, but the Russians who took him clearly wanted him dead.

He thought of Mime Bomb’s shy and gentle nature, the way he kept trying to befriend him and felt disgusted with himself. Before it had seemed so clear to him that Mime Bomb was just trying to use him, but now he wasn’t so sure. He’d allowed his anger and dislike to cloud his judgement, and he was starting to second-guess himself. 

Mime Bomb didn’t deserve any of this. The mime was going to die and it was all for nothing.

Le Chèvre let out a low groan. Would El Topo leave him over this? The sweet El Topo had liked Mime Bomb and loved being part of the team, but Le Chèvre had ruined everything. How much would this betrayal hurt El Topo? Would he choose to stay with Team Red?

Le Chèvre dug his fingernails into his scalp having no idea what he was going to do. Where would he even go? Le Chèvre sat there for a long time until eventually he felt a gentle arm wrap around him. He didn’t even have to look up to see who it was.

“We were worried about you, _ mi amor, _” El Topo said softly, “Zack told us what happened. Do you want to talk about it?”

Le Chèvre didn’t answer and simply closed his eyes.

El Topo’s grip around him tightened. “Everyone freezes now and then, Jean Paul, it’s completely normal. You weren’t expecting it to happen and it took you by surprise. You can’t blame yourself for this, it wasn’t your fault.”

Le Chèvre suddenly pulled away from him and stood up abruptly. “No, Antonio, it **was** all my fault.”

El Topo shook his head. “No it wasn’t,” he insisted, “You had nothing to do with it! You froze, but that’s **not** your fault!”

Le Chèvre raised his hands to his face.

“Jean Paul?” El Topo questioned in concern.

Le Chèvre silently shook his head and didn’t answer.

“You’re starting to worry me, _ mi amor. _ Please talk to me.”

Le Chèvre slowly looked up at him and the concern and love he saw in El Topo’s eyes only made things worse.

“I’m so sorry, Antonio, I’ve ruined everything.”

El Topo furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand.”

Le Chèvre went silent again and El Topo reached out and took him by the hand.

“Jean Paul, what have you done?” he whispered.

Le Chèvre grimaced. “I didn’t freeze.”

El Topo gave him a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

Le Chèvre took a deep breath, knowing he had to admit what he’d done. “I allowed Mime Bomb to be taken on purpose.”

There was complete silence as El Topo stared at him in shock. He then shook his head in denial. “No, no, Jean Paul, freezing doesn’t mean you allowed it to happen. It was an accident!”

Le Chèvre averted his gaze. “_ Non _ , I **wanted** him to be taken. I’ve always hated that mime, and I jumped on the chance to be rid of him. I wasn’t thinking and now he could die because of me!”

El Topo didn’t look like he believed him. “I think you’d better tell me everything,” he said with a concerned frown.

Le Chèvre tightened his grip on El Topo’s hand, worried the other man was going to pull away once he began explaining.

“You will hate me,” Le Chèvre said worriedly.

El Topo offered him a smile. “I could never hate you, _ mi amor. _ Please just tell me everything from the very beginning.”

Le Chèvre nodded and took another deep breath. He explained everything starting from the first phone call and told him everything he’d been thinking and feeling over the past month, and then ended with the call where Vess told him V.I.L.E weren’t the ones to take Mime Bomb. El Topo was looking angrier and angrier as Le Chèvre explained, but he stayed quiet to let him finish. When Le Chèvre was done, he pulled away from El Topo and once again raised his hands to his face. El Topo was dead silent, and Le Chèvre stood there for several minutes, not even sure the other man was still there.

“You need to tell this to the rest of the team immediately,” El Topo said, his voice sounding a little bit cold.

“I’m **so** sorry, mon amour!” Le Chèvre said, “I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

El Topo gave him an angry and incredulous look. “You didn’t mean to make me mad? You betrayed our team, you betrayed Mime Bomb, and you...” El Topo paused a long moment and looked away. “...you betrayed **me**.”

“I’m sorry!” Le Chèvre said, now certain El Topo was going to leave him. “I am so, so sorry!”

Le Chèvre couldn’t bear to see the hurt and disappointment in El Topo’s eyes anymore and he turned to flee. He only made it a single step before El Topo caught him by the wrist.

“No,” El Topo scolded, “Just because I’m upset at you does **not** mean you get to run away from this! We are going back to the hospital, and you are going to tell the others what happened. They need to know.”

Le Chèvre didn’t try to pull away from him and he stared down at the ground. “Forgive me, Antonio,”

El Topo went silent again, and Le Chèvre felt despair consume him.

“It is not **my** forgiveness you should be asking for,” El Topo finally said, “You owe that apology to Mime Bomb.”

Le Chèvre chanced a look at El Topo and the anger he saw in the other man’s eyes didn’t give him much hope.

“Come,” El Topo urged, pulled his arm, “They need to know.”

Le Chèvre allowed himself to be pulled towards the hospital without a word, knowing he was about to be tossed out of the team, and quite possibly lose his lover at the same time. Everything felt hopeless, but he trusted El Topo and went with him willingly. Neither spoke a single word the entire walk back, and even during the elevator ride, neither said anything, the tension and awkwardness heavy in the air.

As Le Chèvre walked towards Carmen’s hospital room, he really, **really** didn’t want to go in there. He wanted to leave and never return, and it was only El Topo that made him stay. He had hurt him, and he would do **anything** to make it better, even if that meant facing the rest of Team Red.

When they entered the room, they were met with the sight of Zack in tears, sitting in a chair beside Carmen as Ivy tried unsuccessfully to console him. The boy was completely devastated, and Le Chèvre knew how close he’d been with Mime Bomb.

“I couldn’t protect him,” Zack said dejectedly, “I **promised** to always protect him! I let him down, and I’m a failure of a brother. I should’ve tried harder! I should’ve done more! It’s all my fault!”

“Bro, it’s going to be okay,” Ivy assured him, “We’re going to get him back. No one is going to hurt Mime Bomb.”

El Topo gave Le Chèvre a hard look and he once again looked away.

“Welcome back,” Shadowsan said, matter-of-factly, “We’re going to begin plans to get Mime Bomb and Player back. Please close the door.”

El Topo shut the door and then gave Le Chèvre a light elbow. Le Chèvre squeezed his eyes closed and stayed silent. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t admit that he’d betrayed them all. El Topo elbowed him harder, and Le Chèvre winced.

“Jean Paul has something to say to all of you,” El Topo informed the room.

Everyone went quiet and they looked over, El Topo’s angry tone taking them by surprise.

“Go on,” El Topo urged, giving Le Chèvre another elbow, “Tell them what you told me.”

Le Chèvre kept his eyes squarely on the ground as he began speaking. He told them everything, and when he was finished, he looked up and everyone had identical looks of shocked fury. Le Chèvre kept his eyes on Zack who was looking absolutely murderous, and as Zack stood to his feet, Le Chèvre tensed. He was certain the boy was about to attack him, and he readied himself. He definitely wasn’t expecting to be sucker-punched from the side, sending him sprawling to the floor. Nursing a bloody lip, he looked up into the furious face of Ivy.

“How **dare** you!” she snarled, raising her fist to hit him again.

El Topo was quick to catch her arm and put himself between them.

“You let them take my little brother just because you don’t like him?!” Ivy yelled, “Are you seriously that selfish that you would throw his life away just so you can climb trees again?! I can’t believe you! Family doesn’t betray each other! I’m going to rip your limbs off and shove them up your urethra!”

“I’m sorry,” Le Chèvre said, not getting up, “I’m going to do everything I can to get him back. I’ll make this right.”

“El Topo, move out of the way!” Ivy ordered, cracking her knuckles.

El Topo shook his head. “No, everyone needs to calm down, and we will discuss this in a non-violent fashion.”

Shadowsan looked furious and he glowered down at Le Chèvre like he was some sort of disgusting bug he’d scraped off the bottom of his shoe. “Jean Paul, I think it would be best if you waited in the hall until everyone calms down. Sit in one of the chairs outside the door.”

“I agree,” Carmen said, looking equally angry, “We need a few minutes to calm down and talk.”

El Topo turned to Le Chèvre and reached a hand down to help him back to his feet. Le Chèvre accepted the hand, but still avoided eye contact with everyone. Opening the door, El Topo watched as Le Chèvre left the room and sat down in the seats in the hallway.

“Promise me you won’t run,” El Topo ordered.

Le Chèvre didn’t answer.

“If you love me, then you will stay in those seats and not leave.”

Le Chèvre felt a lump form in his throat at those words. He gave a mute nod and El Topo disappeared back into the room. Le Chèvre sat in the hallway for over two hours as the people within yelled and argued with each other. He couldn’t hear what was being said, but he could only imagine. When the door finally opened, he looked up to see El Topo exiting the room. He closed the door after him and then took a seat beside him without a word.

Le Chèvre stared down at his lap silently, and then risked a quick look at his partner. El Topo seemed a lot more calm than before, but there was a tight look around his eyes that worried Le Chèvre.

“Are you going to leave me?” Le Chèvre asked.

“Do you want me to?” El Topo responded.

Le Chèvre was alarmed at that. “What? No, of course not! I love you more than anything, Antonio, and I would never leave you.”

“You were going to leave me and return to V.I.L.E,” El Topo pointed out.

Le Chèvre frantically shook his head. “No, Antonio, I wanted us to return together! I never would have left you behind!”

“I told you I don’t want to return to V.I.L.E, but you would have made me choose between you or my freedom?”

Le Chèvre felt his stomach sink. “I was selfish,” he admitted, “All I was thinking about was myself and I never once considered what you might want. I’m so sorry.”

El Topo heaved a tired sigh. 

“Are you going to leave me?” Le Chèvre repeated.

“No.”

Le Chèvre let out a deep breath of relief.

“We are far from okay, however,” El Topo continued, “You and I are going to be having some very long discussions about all of this. You really hurt me and everyone else, and it’s going to take some time to recover from that.”

“Where will we go?” Le Chèvre asked.

El Topo raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

“I was thrown out of the team, wasn’t I? Don’t I have to leave?”

El Topo shook his head. “No, everyone is going to allow you to stay, but on a trial basis. You have to earn back their trust, and this is not going to be an easy thing. We’re going to rescue Mime Bomb and Player, and then hopefully we can finally begin to mend our family.”

Le Chèvre wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about this, and he hesitated. El Topo watched his expression carefully, and then gave him a nod.

“I know you don’t want to be a part of Team Red,” he acknowledged, “and so I told the others after we rescue Mime Bomb and Player, and take care of this Russian mission, we’re going to separate from the team.”

Le Chèvre looked up at him in complete shock.

“I’m tired of this life,” El Topo admitted, “I think it would be nice to buy a little home somewhere with you and settle down. No more stealing, no more missions, and no more fighting. We’ll just be two civilians living our best life.”

Le Chèvre stared at him in awe, honestly not sure what to say.

“How does that sound, Jean Paul?” El Topo asked, watching the other man’s expression carefully.

Le Chèvre gulped. “That sounds wonderful.”

El Topo then offered him a sad sort of smile, and leaned over to hug him. Le Chèvre squeezed back tightly, unable to believe El Topo was going to stay by his side.

“You are much too good for me, _ mon amour, _” Le Chèvre whispered, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Jean Paul, and we’ll get through this.”

“I’ll do everything in my power to get Mime Bomb back,” Le Chèvre vowed, “This is our last mission, and I **swear** to you I won’t let you down!”

“I know you won’t,” El Topo replied, standing up, “Come back inside now, everyone wants to discuss a few things with you.”

Le Chèvre grimaced. “This is going to be ugly, isn’t it?”

El Topo nodded. “Definitely. I think Shadowsan has a very long lecture planned for you.”

Le Chèvre sighed and stood up. “I deserve it.”

“You do,” El Topo agreed.

Le Chèvre reached out and linked his fingers with El Topo’s and then headed for the hospital room door. They entered the room together, ready to face whatever came their way.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Siren stared up at the ceiling as he thought. He was reviewing the mental map he had made of the compound, and trying to come up with a plan. He could just walk out of the doors and leave, but it wouldn’t take Vess very long to notice he was gone. They were extremely North, and even if he survived the cold walk to the nearby town, it was a V.I.L.E owned town where all the guards lived. They’d recognize him in an instant and tattle to V.I.L.E. He had no doubt he’d be immediately captured and then he’d have to face Vess’ wrath. He’d likely lose any and all privileges he had, making it extremely difficult to plan anything. He would have to find another way to leave the lab.

Siren’s mind went to Patient D.D., and he grimaced as he realized he didn’t even know if she was still alive. She’d seemed so sick the last time he saw her, and he knew Vess wouldn’t care if she died. Dozens upon dozens of children had been killed in this lab, and to Vess, D.D. was just another test subject. Siren thought of the girl’s big brown eyes, and her sharp wit and felt guilty. Could he really leave her behind?

Siren’s thoughts turned to Patient Y.V., the little boy he had saved all those years ago. He hadn’t been able to save everyone, but he had saved Yuri. He hoped that boy was still out there in the world alive and happy. Siren and First-Kevin were going to release **all** the children, but when Kevin died, Siren was only able to save one. The fire had spread too quickly, and he had been too injured to make it in time. They had barely made it out alive, but Siren had felt so relieved when he was finally able to pass the boy to his uncle Dmitry.

Patient D.D. was a complete mystery to him, and he knew she would be a liability. The smartest thing to do would be to leave her behind. He didn’t know if she still had family, and he didn’t know how far he’d be able to carry her. 

Siren thought of the little girl laying dead on a medical table and the image turned his stomach. He clenched his fists. No, he couldn’t leave D.D. behind. He would take her, and he would get her to safety. He’d somehow make it work. 

Siren’s thoughts turned to Vess, and he immediately scowled. There was no hope for Vess. Vess was a black ooze that poisoned everything around him, including those he claimed to love. He remembered when Vess had met Michael five years ago. The boy had been just a stupid teenager that had a very obvious crush on the handsome doctor. Vess made it clear he wasn’t interested, but Michael persisted. As the months passed, Siren saw drastic changes in Michael as he became more and more violent as he tried to impress Vess.

Vess had been complaining that he didn’t have enough young test subjects, and Michael had decided this was his mission. The boy left the lab and was gone for two weeks. When Michael finally returned, he presented a baby to Vess to use as a test subject. Siren knew that baby was likely D.D. 

This unexpected action had surprised Vess and he had looked at Michael like he was seeing him for the first time. Michael did everything and anything Vess asked him to, and he endured being hit around with little complaint. Vess had a temper, and Siren himself was slapped quite frequently if he annoyed the other man. Siren wasn’t exactly sure when they began dating, but the constant bruises and stitches that covered Michael didn’t escape his notice. 

Michael began trying to act tough, and that’s when he started bullying Siren. As much as Siren detested Michael, he knew he’d been poisoned by Vess. Michael was a victim, but one that was addicted to his toxic life. There was no saving Michael either.

Siren was still undecided whether Vess even cared about Michael. He was almost positive Vess was a sociopath, but he hid it well. He could smile and be charming if he wanted to be, and it hid the monster lying beneath. Vess’ eyes were cold, and Siren knew that if Vess didn’t need him, he would have been disposed of long ago. Vess was dangerously smart and difficult to trick, and Siren knew Vess would be his biggest obstacle in escaping. He needed to plan everything carefully.

Siren wished there was a way he could see the nearby town so he could map it out in his mind, but there was no way he’d be permitted to leave the building. Although he’d never actually been told that, he had a feeling Vess would never allow it.

Siren glanced beside him at Terry who was quietly working on a crossword puzzle. Terry had a wife and three sons in that town, and he couldn’t risk Terry’s life by asking him to take him. Terry was a guard, and was completely disposable in Vess’ eyes. Siren didn’t even have any idea what would happen to Terry’s family if the man was executed. They knew too much.

No, Siren would have to think of another way to get to the town. Whoever went with him would get the full brunt of Vess’ anger, and there was only one person he could think of that could survive such a thing.

“Kevin?”

Terry looked up from his crossword. “You’re supposed to be sleeping,” he scolded, “What do you need?”

“Can you let MJ know I want to speak with him?”

Terry’s eyes widened, knowing how much Siren disliked Michael. “What?! Why?” he demanded.

“It’s better if you don’t know,” Siren said evasively.

Terry stared at him long and hard trying to figure out what he was planning. “Be careful,” he cautioned, “Whatever you’re scheming, Vess is going to be watching you like a hawk.”

“Just go get MJ,” Siren ordered.

“Sorry, I can’t leave you by yourself, but-”

Terry never got to finish because Siren was instantly in a rage as he threw a tissue box straight as his head. It bounced harmlessly off the helmet, followed by a pillow and then an empty cup. Terry could see Siren was going to work himself up into an absolute fit, and so he decided to end that before it could truly begin.

Terry then began yelling in a loud tone of voice. “Twas brillig, and the slithy toves. Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; all mimsy were the borogoves, and the mome raths outgrabe.”

Siren paused, hand still in the air to throw something. He stared at Terry like he’d suddenly sprouted an extra head, his anger seeming to abate. 

“There, now if I now have your attention, as I was saying, I can’t leave you alone, **BUT** I can radio another guard to fetch MJ for you.”

Siren lowered his arm. “...oh...okay.”

Terry eyed him for a moment but Siren seemed back to his usual self, and so he pulled his walkie-talkie out of his pocket.

“Terry calling Paul, Terry Calling Paul.”

There was a few seconds pause.

“Paul here, what do you need, Terry?”

“I was hoping you could do me a favour…” Terry replied.

“I’m broke right now,” Paul quickly said, “Rent’s due in a few days.”

“No, no, no, not **that** kind of favour! I need you to find Michael Finnegan Junior and ask him to come to the infirmary. Siren wants to speak with him.”

“Oh. Yeah I can do that.”

“Thanks, Paul.”

“No problem, Terry. I hope you survive the little demon!”

Siren scowled as Terry put away his walkie-talkie. “I don’t like Paul.”

“You don’t like **anyone**,” Terry pointed out.

Siren couldn’t argue that and then sagged back into his pillows tiredly. Throwing that small tantrum had wiped him out, and he glanced around at the mess he’d made.

“Pass me back the box of tissues,” Siren ordered.

“Please,” Terry scolded.

Siren scowled at him.

“If you want me to do favours for you, you have to learn to ask nicely.”

Siren crossed his arms stubbornly and looked away. “Nevermind, I don’t want them anymore.”

He then proceeded to wipe his nose on his sleeve instead.

Terry rolled his eyes, and resumed his seat beside the bed. Five minutes later Michael entered the infirmary looking a bit confused and somewhat wary. When his gaze fell on Siren, he looked him up and down slowly, taking in the sight of all the damage. He then glanced at Terry, not wanting to say anything in front of the guard.

“It’s fine, Terry knows it wasn’t Braxton who beat me up.”

Terry stiffened in his seat, this being the first he heard of it. He knew Siren was now including him in on his scheming, but this still took him by surprise.

Michael shuffled over to the bed, looking a bit awkward. “Er...look, nerd, I didn’t mean to hurt you that bad...I got a little carried away…”

“I don’t care about that,” Siren informed him.

Michael frowned in confusion. “You don’t? Then why did you ask to see me?”

“You know how we had a truce in order to get rid of Braxton?”

Michael nodded. “Yeah.”

“I was wondering if you would like to possibly extend that truce?”

Michael stared at him for a long moment and then let out a snort. “You **wish**, nerd.”

Siren didn’t seem bothered by this. “You said it yourself, MJ, there’s no one even close to your age here, no one to hang around, no one to game with, no one to talk to. At least with **me** you don’t have to worry about Numa putting a bullet in my head.”

Michael wrinkled his nose as he stared at him. “Ew, are you asking to be my **friend**?”

Siren didn’t answer.

Michael let out another snort and then ran a hand through his slicked-back hair, clearly dismissing the notion. “You’re a pathetic little crybaby, and just the **thought** of being your friend makes me want to puke. I don’t like you, and I certainly don’t want to hang around you!”

Siren gave a shrug. “Whatever you say, MJ, it’s up to you.”

Terry stared at Siren in disbelief. The fact he was acting so nice was immediately suspicious and he wondered what the other man was planning. Michael stood there for a few moments in silence and then shifted a bit on his feet. He appeared to be thinking extremely hard, and seemed to be struggling with something internally. He looked positively furious, and then he averted his gaze away from Siren.

“...maybe I’ll allow you to **sometimes** hang around me,” he finally said.

“Okay,” Siren replied in an easy tone of voice.

“But only if you do everything I say!”

Siren gave him a nod. “Alright,” he agreed, “Come here for a second.”

Michael narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“I have something to tell you but I don’t want the guard overhearing.”

Michael glanced over at Terry and frowned at him. “Leave the room!” he ordered.

Terry immediately shook his head. “Sorry, I’m not allowed to leave the room until my shift ends. These were orders given to me by Dr. Vess.”

Michael gave him a dirty look and then approached the bed. “What?” he demanded.

“Closer,” Siren ordered.

Michael stepped up right beside him, and when Siren beckoned he leaned over so Siren could whisper in his ear. Terry couldn’t hear what was being said, but Michael’s eyes widened and he paled. He suddenly pulled away and stared at Siren in complete horror.

“Are you serious?!”

Siren nodded. “I saw it myself,” he replied, “It’s been happening for weeks.”

Michael’s expression crossed between anger and hurt, and without another word, he fled out of the lab. Siren watched him go and then smirked. He then lifted a com from his blankets and set it on his chest. Terry hadn’t even seen him pickpocket Michael and he’d been watching the whole time.

“What did you say to him?” he asked.

“Not much, only that the Girl-Kevin in charge of making the coffee for the lab has been flirting with Vess for weeks. I told him there’s a **reason** Vess has been drinking fourteen coffees a day. I told him I saw Vess smile at her.”

Terry furrowed his brow. “I thought Dr. Vess was gay?”

“Oh, he is,” Siren confirmed with a snort of amusement, “MJ’s just incredibly stupid. Now he’s going to be so busy trying to ‘win’ Vess back that he won’t be paying any attention to what I’m doing.”

“Won’t he just ask Dr. Vess about it?”

“Once again, MJ is an idiot. He won’t do that. He’ll get passive aggressive, and likely be rude to the coffee girl, but he won’t come right out and say what the problem is.”

“Why do you want to be friends with him if you think he’s a moron?”

“I **definitely** don’t want to be friends with MJ, but being his friend will grant me more freedom and access to the compound than I would have had before.”

Terry gave him a concerned look. “That seems dangerous…”

“Relax, I’m not going to tell him anything about what I’m planning,” Siren informed him, “He’s going to be completely oblivious.”

Terry turned his attention to the com. “What are you going to do with that?” he asked.

Siren glanced down at the com in his lap, and then gave a shrug. “I can’t use it to make calls since V.I.L.E monitors all coms, but I can at least play around with it a bit until MJ notices it’s missing.”

Terry didn’t look happy about this, but he didn’t comment, simply watching as Siren powered on the com. 

“Oh!” Siren exclaimed in surprise, “This is Vess’ com! Michael must have borrowed it for something. I’m going to be nosy and read his text messages.”

Siren typed in Vess’ password, and then scrolled through the messages fast, frowning as he saw quite a few messages between Vess and Dr. Bellum. He saw the plans for acquiring new test subjects, and also several messages about how someone named Carmen Sandiego had survived being shot by Vess. He said nothing at all as he read through every text stored on the com, and he scowled. Vess truly **was** an evil bastard.

“I’m going to download a few games on this thing,” Siren commented, “Keep watch and let me know if anyone is coming.”

Terry sighed. “Helping you play Angry Birds was **not** part of this arrangement.”

Siren glared at him, and Terry could sense an impending tantrum coming, so he simply let out another sigh and stood to his feet.

“Fine, but you better not complain to me when Vess gets angry at you.”

Siren didn’t answer, his eyes already on the screen. Terry watched him for a moment and then approached the door so he could watch up the hallway. He had no idea what Siren was planning, but he just hoped he didn’t end up getting them both killed.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Vess had informed the faculty that Carmen Sandiego was alive, and Roundabout was doing his best to stay clear of the others until they calmed down. Brunt was **furious** that Carmen had survived, and she began smashing everything in sight. Bellum was still trying unsuccessfully to get a hold of Team Crackle, knowing they needed them now more than ever. 

Roundabout however was suspicious over the fact Vess had been the one to deliver this news. How had the doctor found out this information? He only said he’d been informed by his ‘sources’ and didn’t give any further details. Remembering what Dash had told him about Vess and Dr. Bellum, he knew he needed to research this further.

Dash had mentioned an operative by the name of Siren, but the problem with that was that there **was** no operative named Siren. Roundabout knew the names of each and every V.I.L.E operative and he’d never heard that codename before. Just to be sure, he’d run the name through the V.I.L.E database and nothing had come up.

Dash may have been mistaken over the codename, but something about this didn’t sit right with Roundabout. Vess, Maelstrom and Bellum were up to something, and he wanted to find out what it was. As he sat there at his desk thinking about everything Dash had told him, he pulled his laptop over and logged into the old V.I.L.E servers. The servers had all been replaced five years ago, and all information was supposed to be transferred, but perhaps there was a mistake of some kind?

Roundabout typed in his password and once he had access to the server, he did a search on the word ‘Siren’. He waited patiently as the server searched for the information, and he was mildly surprised when it came back with one result. There was a heavily blacked out document on his screen, that seemed to be some sort of report from Vess dated ten years prior. All mentions of who was being described was blacked out, but towards the center of the document, it appeared Vess had missed one mention of Siren. Roundabout stared at the sentence and his eyes widened. ‘Siren is V.I.L.E’s most valuable asset until the needed information can be extracted.’

Too many words were blacked out on the rest of the document to make sense of it, and Roundabout frowned. Why was this Siren operative so important? What information did he have? He felt like it was no coincidence that this document wasn’t transferred to the new server.

Roundabout knew he needed answers. He would call Vess, and order him to tell him about Siren. That was the only thing he could think of. The rest of the faculty had to begin recognizing him sooner or later, and he was tired of being left out of the loop. Perhaps if the others realized he was on to them, they’d finally tell him about everything to avoid him interfering?

Pulling out his com, he dialed Vess’ number and then waited. It rang several times, and when it was answered, it wasn’t Vess who stared back at him. It was a young man covered in bruises, with long scraggly hair and the most bizarre eyes he’d ever seen. The man’s eyes seemed to be two different colours, and they stared at each other in surprise.

“Um...hi?” the man greeted, looking rather uncertain.

Roundabout furrowed his brow. “Who are you?” he demanded.

The man stared at him for a few more seconds and then hung up on him. Roundabout called the com back, and once again the same young man answered.

“Why do you have Vess’ com?” Roundabout asked.

The man hung up on him for a second time, looking a bit annoyed. Roundabout frowned at the rudeness, and then called back for a third time. This time when the young man answered, he let out an irritated huff.

“You’re interrupting my game! What do you want?”

“Who are you, and why do you have Vess’ com?” Roundabout repeated.

“I’m the lead scientist for V.I.L.E. My name is Siren and I’m authorized to use this com. Any other questions before I hang up on you again?”

“Don’t hang up on me!” Roundabout ordered, “Do you have any idea who I am?”

“Nope.”

Roundabout let out a sigh when he was hung up on yet again. He had found Siren, but clearly the man had no idea Roundabout was head faculty. He called the com back, and this time when Siren answered, he looked mad.

“Look, Vess isn’t here right now. Call back later.”

Roundabout could see Siren was about to hang up again, so he spoke up quickly. “I didn’t call to speak with Vess, I called to speak with **you**.”

A slight lie, but Siren didn’t need to know that.

Siren froze, a completely bewildered expression on his face. “What? Me?!”

“I’m Roundabout, the newest member of the head faculty,” Roundabout told him, “All records that pertain to you seem to have been destroyed and I’m just trying to get some answers.”

Siren blinked at him. “I wasn’t aware anyone even knew I existed,” he admitted, “I thought I was Vess’ dirty little secret.”

“Are you an operative?” Roundabout asked.

Siren shook his head. “Technically, no. I was kidnapped two weeks before I graduated from the academy.”

Roundabout’s frown became even more pronounced. “Kidnapped? From V.I.L.E Island? Impossible!”

Siren rolled his eyes. “Tell that to Vess then. He stole me away in the dead of night and I’ve been trapped at this damn lab for the last ten years. Are you transferring me?”

Roundabout stared at him for a moment, and then asked, “What are the experiments Vess has been researching?”

Siren went quiet, and he gave him a suspicious look. 

“I’m just trying to find out what’s going on,” Roundabout assured him.

“If you’re head faculty, shouldn’t you know this already?”

Roundabout nodded. “I **should** , but Vess and Dr. Bellum are keeping all of this secret and I want to know **why**.”

“Probably because child experimentation tends to disgust most people,” Siren replied.

Roundabout’s concern grew. “So the rumours were true then. Vess really **is** killing children for his experiments.”

“Look, Roundbert, I’m probably not even supposed to be talking to you right now.”

“My codename is Roundabout.”

Siren rolled his eyes again. “Whatever. Please tell me Vess is going to be in trouble for all this. That would be **so** satisfying.”

Roundabout’s gaze shifted away from his com and settled on the picture frame on his desk. He stared at his two children and felt a rage fill him. Roundabout had always loved children, and just the thought of torturing and killing them in a lab was enough to turn his stomach. He barely ever saw his children, but he cherished them. His family believed he was a businessman that constantly travelled, and he knew they missed him, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. He sent plenty of money to his family, and his children attended the best private schools in England, and their college funds were enough for any Ivy League school, but he knew it wasn’t enough. He did his best to attend holidays and birthdays with his family, but because of his line of work, it wasn’t always possible.

“Siren, what is it you want to happen in this situation? You have my word I won’t repeat anything we discuss.”

Siren was instantly suspicious again. “This is a trap. Did Vess arrange this?” he demanded.

Roundabout shook his head. “I just want to completely understand the situation and your involvement with it.”

“Trap,” Siren repeated.

“It’s not a trap,” Roundabout insisted. “If children are being harmed by V.I.L.E then I want to know about it! There’s a reason why V.I.L.E only allows people eighteen or older to join the academy. It’s been a silent rule, that we don’t hurt children.”

“Trap.”

Roundabout sighed and gazed at Siren who was staring at him with narrowed eyes. He supposed it did look rather suspicious for one of the head faculty to be asking questions like this, and so he understood Siren’s hesitation.

“What happened to your face?” Roundabout asked, changing the subject, “You’re covered in bruises!”

Siren raised a hand to his face and Roundabout could see the arm was badly bruised as well.

“My guard beat me,” Siren replied.

“Your guard?”

Siren gave a slow nod. “I was assigned a guard to make me obey everything I was ordered to do. I wandered off from him and so he beat me until I lost consciousness.”

Roundabout knew this was yet another thing that went against V.I.L.E’s policies. Guards were **always** held at a lower level than operatives, doctors and scientists, and hitting their superiors would be a fireable offense. If Vess was correct and Siren was the most important asset V.I.L.E had then it was ludicrous to allow harm to come to him.

“Why did Vess say you were V.I.L.E’s most important asset?” Roundabout asked.

Siren gave him another suspicious look and hesitated as he debated whether or not to answer. 

“I’m the only one who knows how to complete Vess’ experiments,” he finally said, “He has no way to finish anything without me.”

“And you haven’t told him what he needs to know?”

Siren snorted. “Of course not. That information is the only reason I’m still alive.”

“What would happen if Vess finds out what you know?”

Siren grimaced. “He would literally be able to take over all of V.I.L.E if he wanted to. Vess is the last person on this Earth who should ever be allowed to know this information.”

“What is Vess trying to create?” Roundabout asked.

Siren shrugged. “The perfect operatives,” he replied, “Heightened intelligence, heightened physical abilities, resistant to pain, no emotions, and unquestionably loyal.”

Roundabout sucked in a sharp breath. Was such a thing even possible?!

“And he’s using children to do this?!” Roundabout cried out, his calm demeanor cracking for a moment.

Siren cocked his head at him thoughtfully for a moment. “It **has** to be children,” he informed him, “The growth hormones interact with the serums and get the desired result. Children heal better than adults and so all the body mutilations are more likely to heal correctly.”

Roundabout felt his stomach twist. “He’s creating child soldiers. Child soldiers who were tortured into nothing but mindless shells.”

“That pretty much sums it up,” Siren acknowledged.

A voice suddenly called from somewhere in the same room as Siren. “Vess is in the hallway chatting with a guard. He’s going to be here any moment. Get off that call!”

Siren glanced off at the person off-screen and then turned back to Roundabout. “I have to go now.”

“Siren, I would like to speak with you again about this,” Roundabout requested.

“This isn’t my com, and I’m not actually allowed to speak with anyone outside of this lab. Vess would never allow it.”

“If I give you my phone number, could you call again when you have time for a more in-depth conversation?”

“Once again, I have no com, Roundbert,” Siren pointed out, “I frankly don’t trust you, and I’m not sure I **want** to talk to you again.”

Roundabout knew that was a smart approach and let out a sigh. He couldn’t blame Siren for being suspicious and knew it would take time to earn the other man’s trust.

“If you want me to put a stop to this, you will find a com and call me back,” Roundabout informed him.

Siren’s eyes widened. “You want to stop Vess?!”

“I find this whole thing completely disgusting, and I want no part in murdering dozens of children.”

Siren gave him a considering look. Was it possible Roundabout was actually telling the truth?

“Siren, **now**!” Terry snapped at him from across the room.

“I gotta go,” Siren said, glancing over at Terry, “Vess is coming.”

Roundabout quickly spouted off his phone number and Siren frowned at him.

“Please write that down!” Roundabout requested, “In case you change your mind.”

“I don’t need to,” Siren answered, “I’ll remember it.”

Without another word, Siren hung up on him. Roundabout pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing this was going to be an absolute disaster. Could he trust Siren? He certainly didn’t seem to hold any love for Vess, but was he loyal to V.I.L.E? There were too many unknowns in this situation, and Roundabout needed to do some research. V.I.L.E kept a massive storage room of physical paperwork that had been uploaded to the server, and so there was a possibility he would find information about Vess’ experiments. 

Roundabout sighed deeply and glanced back to the picture of his children. Their smiling faces lifted his heart a bit, and he thought of all the children that Vess was hurting.

Roundabout clenched his hands into fists. He would do everything in his power to shut that lab down.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Plague Doctor stood in the center of the destruction staring around at the gore indifferently. There was so much blood on the floor that it was impossible to tell who it belonged to. One thing was certain however, the team that had fought them had won the fight and escaped. Matryoshka came up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder. He glanced over at her, and then turned his attention back to the bloody warehouse.

[[Who do you suppose they were?]] Matryoshka questioned.

Plague Doctor shrugged.

[[They clearly weren’t V.I.L.E since they killed the two experiments, but who else could they be? Is there a new syndicate we don’t know about?]]

Once again Plague Doctor shrugged.

[[They’re left no clues behind, and it’s impossible to collect a DNA sample when there’s dozens of bleeding bodies around.]]

Plague Doctor cocked his head as he stared around himself, but then he realized something. Removing the scythe from his belt, he held it out and Matryoshka could see the blades were stained with blood.

[[Is that someone from the mystery team?]] Matryoshka questioned.

Plague Doctor nodded.

[[Are you sure?]]

He nodded once again.

[[It’s not much to go on, but perhaps there’ll be a match if we test the dna. Maybe this will provide us a clue about who these people are.]]

Matryoshka turned away from the blood and gore, and began heading for the door. [[Brother, come on, don’t linger here too long.]]

Plague Doctor gave one last look around and then turned to follow his sister out of the warehouse. They boarded the waiting helicopter and seconds later, they were headed for the airport.

**Two days later…**

Plague Doctor carefully stirred the liquid into the test tube, and watched as it changed colours.

He and Matryoshka were now safely back in their base, and things had been incredibly quiet. There was no news of this new team, and both Volkov and V.I.L.E had said nothing about it. Plague Doctor wasted no time taking the bloody scythe to be tested, and Matryoshka began seeing to replacing the men she had lost in the fight. Luckily they were just foot soldiers and of no real importance.

Plague doctor put the sample into the machine in front of him and then began typing on the keyboard. There were a few different dna samples on the scythe and now he had to separate them. He was able to extract Boris’ dna first and he added it to his database and included his notes about the subject. He then extracted Vlad’s dna and did the same thing. Both were deceased, but would be very useful in his research. Their bodies had been collected and were in his personal storage for the moment.

The mystery dna was all that remained, and Plague Doctor watched as his computer analysed it. He had collected a photo of Otterman from the security footage, and it was added to his profile as he waited for the machine to finish. He sat completely still at his desk, eyes on the screen as the computer tried to find any matches in their database.

The hours dragged by, and finally the computer dinged that it had a match. Plague Doctor clicked on the result and when he read what it said, he audibly gasped in shock. He stared and stared, and then looked at the picture of Otterman. Jumping up from his seat, he typed on his computer and the results printed out a few seconds later. Ripping the sheet from the printer, he ran out of the room as fast as he could.

He shoved everyone out of his way as he ran through the complex, and when he reached Matryoshka’s office, he threw open the door without knocking. Matryoshka was in the middle of a meeting with potential clients and she paused at the sight of her brother in full costume and clearly out of breath.

[[I’m in the middle of a meeting!]] she scolded, [[How many times have I told you to knock?!]]

“Who is that man?!” one of the client’s asked in disgust.

“That’s just my brother,” Matryoshka replied, “He’s just a bit eccentric, don’t pay him any mind.”

Plague Doctor charged across the office and held out the piece of paper.

[[I’m in a meeting!]] Matryoshka snapped.

Plague Doctor held the paper directly in front of her face. Matryoshka blinked in surprise and then her eyes focused on the words on the page. She gasped and snatched the paper, reading the entire thing.

[[Are you sure?]] she demanded.

Plague Doctor nodded.

“What is the meaning of this?” one of the clients demanded, “This is extremely disrespectful! This is a 100 million dollar contract that you’re jeopardizing!”

“Meeting’s over,” Matryoshka announced, not taking her eyes from the paper.

There was a murmur of confused and indignant chatter from the clients, and Matryoska turned a fierce look on them.

“The meeting is **over**!” she snapped, “Get out of my office!”

“The nerve!” one of the clients snapped, “I will be taking my business elsewhere!”

“**LEAVE**!” Matryoshka boomed, her tone going dangerous.

The clients all stared at her for a moment and they all quickly filed out of the room. The moment they were alone, she turned to Plague Doctor.

[[You’re absolutely certain? No mistake?]]

Plague Doctor nodded.

Matryoshka stared at Otterman’s picture for a long moment and then looked up. [[This changes everything.]]

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**Sorry this chapter is a day late. I haven't been feeling that great lately and struggled to finish in time. I'll do my best to get the next chapter out on time, and hopefully it will be posted no later than 2 weeks on June 30th.**

**A huge thank you to the super-talented artist who did artwork for this chapter!**

**Violetfic did SIX awesome pics this chapter! <3 She is a complete superstar!** ****

**Credit for the names of Otterman and Moose Boy go to Animedemon01**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**

**Please don't forget to let me know what you think! **


	28. Volkov

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone!
> 
> Sorry the chapter is late this time! I just got Animal Crossing and have spent the last week doing nothing except play. lmao I'll try not to be late with the next update.
> 
> An enormous thank you to the very awesome Violetfic and Coulrosaurus for offering plenty of good suggestions, and for being my betas! You guys really helped improve this chapter and you're awesome!
> 
> Please note that Dr. Vess and Michael Jr. both use the F-word extremely frequently in their everyday speech. You have been warned.
> 
> If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 28**

**Volkov**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Mime Bomb thrashed and struggled as the van screeched away, but he was buckled into one of the seats and held there by the two enormous men on either side of him.

[[Calm down!]] one of the men growled at him.

Mime Bomb didn’t know very much Russian other than the few words he’d picked up from his time in the lab, but he understood the gist of what was said. His response was to fight even harder. The men tightened their grip on his shoulders, and flashed him an annoyed look, but they didn’t say anything more.

Mime Bomb was still weak from the transplant, and was quickly getting tired from over-exerting himself. The men easily held him down, and after a few minutes of fighting against them, he went limp wheezing in exhaustion. One of the men frowned down at him for a moment, and then glanced to his partner.

[[Do you think he hurt himself?]]

The other man looked down at him and then mirrored the frown. [[Hopefully not or the boss will have our heads.]]

Mime Bomb turned his head to look out the back window, but they were already long gone from Zack and Le Chèvre. He remembered the cold and uncaring look Le Chèvre had shot his way as he was taken and he didn’t understand it. Le Chèvre did nothing to stop the kidnapping and he had stood by and watched as Zack was beaten to the ground. Mime Bomb’s eyes then widened in horror. Zack! What happened to Zack?! Did they kill Zack?!

Mime Bomb looked up at one of the men, and then tugged on his sleeve to get his attention. The man looked down at him and Mime Bomb signed at him, hoping he understood. The man stared at him blankly, but the other man spoke up.

[[Your brother? What are you talking about?]]

Mime Bomb signed again.

“You want me to speak in English?” the man asked incredulously, “Don’t you speak Russian?”

Mime Bomb shook his head.

The other man swore in Russian. “Pathetic,” he muttered, “You’re Russian and you don’t even speak the language?”

Mime Bomb shook his head again and signed.

“He says he’s Welsh,” the man informed his partner.

“Disgraceful.”

“Shut up, Boris,” the man responded irritably.

“Well, it **is** pathetic, Viktor,” Boris responded, looking away, “He knows nothing of his own heritage!”

“And that is not his fault,” Viktor pointed out., “These things can be taught.”

Mime Bomb relaxed a bit, realizing these men didn’t seem like they were going to hurt him...at least not yet. He once again asked about Zack, hoping the men hadn’t seriously hurt him.

“The other redhead?” Viktor questioned in confusion.

Mime Bomb nodded vigorously. 

“The boy is fine,” Viktor assured him, “He was let go after we drove off.”

Mime Bomb let out a breath of relief. At least Zack was still safe.

“We’re not monsters,” Viktor stated with an offended frown, “We try to not kill innocents.”

Mime Bomb crossed his arms and gave him an unimpressed look.

“We’re not going to hurt **you** either,” Viktor assured him.

“Unless you give us a hard time!” Boris threatened.

“Oh, shut up, Boris,” Viktor replied with a roll of his eyes.

Mime Bomb signed something else.

“No, we can’t let you go. We have our orders, and you have to come with us for now. You have my word that you will **not** be harmed. I would prefer not to tie you up, but if you give us a hard time, I’ll be left with no choice. It will be easier for everyone if you just cooperate.”

Mime Bomb knew he stood the best chance of escaping if he simply played along for now, and so he gave the man a nod. He found it odd that they didn’t just immediately tie him up and toss a bag over his head, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Crossing his arms against his chest, he let out a deep sigh and then watched as the van headed towards the airport.

Mime Bomb had a sinking feeling he was being taken back to the lab in Russia, but something about the men made him second-guess that. Maybe they were from V.I.L.E instead?

When the van pulled up beside a private jet at the airport, Mime Bomb knew this would be the only chance he’d likely have to escape. Viktor got out of the van first and then motioned for him to follow. Mime Bomb slid across the seat and then crawled out of the van. Boris got out next followed by the two men in the front seat. Mime Bomb acted completely compliant as Boris stepped to his side and then they began walking towards the jet. 

Knowing he had to escape before it was too late, Mime Bomb suddenly lashed out and kicked Boris as hard as he could between the legs. As Boris let out a scream of agony and fell to his knees, Mime Bomb didn’t hesitate to run for it. He could hear the men yelling after him and he knew he was seriously overdoing it, but he forced himself to keep running. There was the sound of thundering footsteps directly behind him and he pushed himself to run faster. He suddenly felt a stab of pain in one of his shoulders and he pushed himself even harder.

Mime Bomb then felt his entire body grow weak and he stumbled and then fell flat on his face. Reaching behind him, he pulled a dart out of his shoulder and scowled, knowing he’d been sedated. He tried to crawl but fell again as the sedatives took effect, and his whole body felt like it was made of lead.

Viktor then scooped him into his arms and Mime Bomb could do nothing about it.

“Didn’t I tell you we weren’t going to hurt you?” he scolded as they walked back towards the jet.

Mime Bomb didn’t even have the strength to raise his hands to reply. The second they neared the jet, Boris stormed over, his face purple with fury. He raised a hand like he was going to slap Mime Bomb across the face, but Viktor quickly caught his hand.

“Are you crazy?” Viktor snapped, “What would the boss say if we deliver him covered in bruises?”

“He kicked me in the balls!” Boris roared angrily, “I’m going to beat him within an inch of his life!”

“Oh, shut up, Boris. You know very well you’re not going to do any such thing. He’s just a foolish kid who got scared.”

Boris swore angrily in Russian, but Viktor paid him no mind and instead walked past him, carrying Mime Bomb onto the jet. Mime Bomb was barely awake, and he didn’t even have the energy to hold up his head. Viktor laid him down on a couch, and then took a seat beside him.

“Sleep, Yuri Volkov,” he ordered, “Stop trying to fight the drugs.”

Mime Bomb refused and kept trying to force aside the drowsiness but the only thing he accomplished was giving himself a headache.

The other men settled inside the jet and Boris flashed him a dirty look, but said nothing as he took his own seat. All the men began chatting with each in Russian, and they paid no mind to Mime Bomb, who was barely conscious. The jet took off into the air, and Mime Bomb now knew this made things a lot harder when it came to escaping. Where were they headed? Back to Russia?

Flying always gave him a massive headache, and fighting the sedatives had only made it worse. Mime Bomb had no idea how long the flight was because he was in a drugged stupor for most of it, and when the sedatives finally began to wear off, he felt awful. He slowly sat up, and although Viktor glanced at him, he didn’t comment. Rubbing at his throbbing head for a few minutes, Mime Bomb turned his attention to Boris who approached him.

Boris was still looking rather grouchy, but had clearly calmed down over the last several hours. He glared down at Mime Bomb and then held a brown paper bag out towards him. Mime Bomb made no move to take the bag, leaning away from Boris distrustfully.

“Lunch,” Boris stated, “Eat before I change my mind.”

Mime Bomb had missed supper the night before and he was hungry, but he didn’t trust him. He simply stared at Boris and didn’t move.

“You sure he’s not retarded?” Boris demanded.

“Boris!” Viktor scolded angrily.

“Well, there’s something off about him, and I don’t like it!”

“You don’t like **anybody**!” Viktor retorted, snatching the bagged lunch away from Boris.

Boris rolled his eyes, and then returned to his own seat without another word. Viktor muttered to himself in Russian for a few moments and then opened the bag. Pulling out a triangular pastry, he held it out towards Mime Bomb who shook his head.

“It’s not tampered with,” Viktor assured him, “We’re not going to hurt you.”

Mime Bomb narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. Viktor let out a sigh.

“Do you think it’s poisoned?” he asked.

Mime Bomb responded with a shrug. Viktor gave him a nod of acknowledgement and unwrapped the pastry. Without a word, he took a bite of it, chewed, swallowed and then held the rest out towards him. Mime Bomb stared for a long moment and then reluctantly reached out to accept it.

“It’s good,’ Viktor assured him, “Russian sausage with onion.”

Mime Bomb stared inside the pastry at the greyish meat within, and then reluctantly took a bite. Viktor eagerly watched him and when Mime Bomb took a second bite, he seemed satisfied.

“Good, yes? That is called Pirozhki. They’re very popular in Russia.”

Mime Bomb gave no indication he heard, simply ignoring him as he ate.

“There’s much you must learn about, Yuri. Russia is your homeland, and you should learn the customs and traditions of your people!”

Mime Bomb stopped chewing and slowly set down the Pirozhki. He frowned up at Viktor and shook his head, and then signed something.

“No, you are **not** Welsh,” Viktor argued, “Your father is Russian, and so **you** are Russian as well! It doesn’t matter what your mother was.”

Mime Bomb crossed his arms again and glared up at him, clearly disagreeing.

“Do not be so foolish,” Viktor scolded, “Finish your food.”

Mime Bomb shoved it onto the floor, his glare not lessening in the least. Viktor simply sighed and knelt to clean the mess.

“So stubborn,” he commented, “Doing this will accomplish nothing. You’re the one who’s going to be hungry. This doesn’t affect me at all.”

Viktor dropped the paper bag back on Mime Bomb’s lap and then went back to chatting with Boris, seemingly ignoring him for the time being. Mime Bomb stared down at the bag and as his stomach growled, he hesitantly reached inside to pull out another Pirozhki. As he unwrapped it, he glanced over at the other men but they weren’t paying him any attention. As he folded back the plastic wrap, he lightly brushed his finger over his pocket, surprised when he felt a tiny lump. The men hadn’t searched him and he still had his ear-com. 

Mime Bomb knew how critically important this was and made sure to keep his expression blank as he ate. He could get in contact with Team Red and they’d be able to find him. Poking a straw into the juicebox, he sipped it slowly, turning his gaze to each of the men in turn. Because he was the biggest threat, Mime Bomb studied Boris first. The man was tall, and heavy with a long and crooked nose like it had been broken many times throughout his life. He had no hair, and his eyes were always annoyed. Mime Bomb didn’t trust him at all. He had a feeling if it wasn’t for Viktor, the other man would have beaten him half to death.

Viktor was equally as tall and strong as Boris, with short dark hair, and his face was badly scarred, but his entire demeanor was very different from the others. Mime Bomb certainly didn’t trust him, but he had a feeling he was probably the least likely one to hurt him. 

The other men hadn’t interacted with him at all, and he didn’t have much to go on other than their looks. They were all large and strong looking, but their expressions were dumb and they were clearly there as muscle only. It was obvious to him that Viktor and Boris were in charge. All of the men were double his age, and he found it curious that no one younger had been sent.

Setting his juicebox aside, he knew he needed to get a hold of Team Red as soon as possible. Reaching out, he gave a tug to Viktor’s sleeve to get his attention. Viktor gave him a questioning look, his gaze falling on the empty juice box.

“Are you still thirsty, Yuri? Do you want another drink?”

Mime Bomb shook his head and began signing.

“Bathroom? Yes, right over there,” Viktor told him, pointing.

“There’s nothing you can use as a weapon in there!” Boris snapped, “We removed everything except for a bar of soap and toilet paper.”

Mime Bomb gave no indication he heard and headed for the bathroom. To his surprise, none of the men got up to follow him or to wait outside the door like he was expecting. Instead, the men went back to chatting and Mime Bomb was left to his own devices. Entering the tiny bathroom, he locked the door and immediately stuck his hand into his pocket. Pulling out the tiny ear-com, he slipped it into his ear and activated it. 

He could hear voices and knew some or all of Team Red must have been wearing their coms. He tapped the com a few times and then waited. There was no reaction and so he did it again. He could hear Chase going on a tangent about something and knew that was probably drowning out the sound of his taps. He began tapping relentlessly, hoping someone would notice.

“Ugh, what is wrong with this stupid com?” Tigress suddenly demanded, “It’s driving me crazy!”

Chase went silent for a moment and so Mime Bomb tapped the com again.

“See!” Tigress yelled out, “There it is again! What is that?”

“Some sort of interference?” El Topo guessed.

“It sounds like someone is tapping on their com,” Carmen stated, sounding a bit unsure.

Zack suddenly gasped. “Mime Bomb?” he cried out, “Buddy, is that you?!”

Mime Bomb tapped once.

“Was that a yes?”

Mime Bomb tapped again.

“Oh thank god, you’re alive!” Zack said in relief, “Where are you?”

Mime Bomb hesitated and then tapped the com three times.

“What’s that mean?” Zack asked, confused.

“How do you expect him to answer, genius?” Ivy snapped, “Morse code?”

“...oh,” Zack replied a bit sheepishly.

“I’m glad you’re safe, Mime Bomb,” Ivy told him, sounding genuinely relieved, “Are you hurt?”

Mime Bomb tapped twice.

“Okay, so once is ‘yes’, twice is ‘no’ and does three times mean ‘I don’t know’?” Tigress guessed.

Mime Bomb tapped once.

“Ok good!” Tigress replied, “Do you know where you are?”

Two taps.

“Are you still in Kazakhstan?” Carmen asked.

Two taps.

“Are you in Russia?”

Three taps.

“Have you escaped the men?”

Two taps.

“Are they near you right now?”

One tap.

“Are they with Volkov lab?”

Three taps.

“Is Player with you?”

Two taps.

“Are you still travelling?”

One tap.

“Are you on a plane?”

One tap.

“Have you been on a plane this whole time?”

One tap.

“Alright, that’s a very long plane trip and so we should be able to estimate how far they are from us by figuring out time and speed. Since you’ve been flying for nearly twelve hours, you must be in a commercial size plane or perhaps a jet.”

One tap.

“Jet?” Carmen guessed.

Another tap.

Suddenly there was a loud knock on the bathroom door. “You need to hurry now, Yuri,” came Viktor’s voice, “We will be landing soon and you need to take your seat.”

“You’d better go,” Carmen instructed him, “Leave your com on so we can hear what’s going on. Please don’t do anything dangerous. Just do whatever they say until we can get to you.”

Mime Bomb tapped once more and then turned and flushed the toilet. He then turned on the sink and washed his hands, not wanting to raise any suspicion. Drying his hands off on his pants, he opened the bathroom door and Viktor was standing there waiting for him.

“It’s going to be a bumpy landing,” Viktor told him, “There’s a storm in the area and we have to land through it. You’d better get to your seat and buckle yourself in.”

“Okay guys, Mime Bomb is landing, so now we can draw several flight paths based on the time it took. Everyone listen for any clues.”

Mime Bomb sat down in an empty seat and then buckled his seatbelt, hoping they wouldn’t get struck by lightning. Glancing towards the windows, he could see it was nothing but dark clouds and rain. He tightened his seatbelt a little more.

The Russians buckled themselves in as well, and Mime Bomb listened as Team Red began trying to figure out the farthest he could be from Kazakhstan. The plane began to descend, and true to Viktor’s word, there was a lot of turbulence as the wind howled around them. Mime Bomb’s ears popped from the pressure as they got lower and lower, and he winced in pain, wishing he had some gum to chew. The plane landed hard and everyone inside was jostled, glad they were buckled in. Now that they were safely on the ground, Mime Bomb relaxed and looked out the window again. This was definitely **not** Russia…

“Yuri,” Viktor said, catching his attention, “Can you be trusted to come with us, or will you have to be sedated again?”

“Go with them, Mime Bomb,” Carmen ordered, “Don’t give them a hard time. Don’t worry, we’re coming for you!”

Mime Bomb gave Viktor a halfhearted sign in reply and the other man seemed satisfied with that.

“Relax, Yuri Volkov, you will see everything will be fine. Just be patient, and everything will be explained to you.”

Mime Bomb gave him a nod, and once the plane had come to a full stop, he unbuckled his seatbelt. Viktor stood over his seat as the others prepared to leave the plane and then he motioned for Mime Bomb to get up. Viktor walked just behind Mime Bomb, but true to his word, he didn’t restrain him or even touch him for that matter. When Mime Bomb stepped off the plane, the heat hit him in the face and he glanced around, trying to figure out where he was.

It was raining heavily, and the muggy heat was almost nauseating. His eyes fell on a sign written in English and Hindi hanging from the tiny airport terminal. He was in India. Mime Bomb frowned, having no idea how he was going to relay this information to Team Red. Getting an idea, he turned to Viktor and then pointed towards the sign.

“Yes?” Viktor questioned, “What about it?”

Mime Bomb jabbed a finger in the direction of the sign several times, a somewhat urgent look on his face.

“What?” Viktor demanded.

Mime Bomb crossed his arms and scowled up at Viktor, hoping he would say it out loud.

“Are you upset because we’re in India?” Viktor questioned with a frown, “You didn’t think we were going to stay in Kazakhstan, did you?”

“Heard that loud and clear, Mime Bomb!” Carmen informed him.

Mime Bomb turned and kept walking, leaving a very confused Viktor behind. He was taken to a waiting car, and all the men piled in the back, making it an extremely uncomfortable fit. Mime Bomb was surprised when he was given the front seat without protest, and he wasn’t cramped at all. One of the men immediately began blasting the air conditioning, and another rolled down the window a crack. Although there were muttered complaints, none seemed to be directed his way.

“We’re taking you to our safehouse for the night, and then you’ll be moved in the morning,” Viktor informed him.

Mime Bomb was still surprised they didn’t try to blindfold him, and as they drove down the highway, he read the street signs, now knowing exactly where he was. Mime Bomb listened to Team Red discussing plans as they booked a plane, and he wished there was a way for him to share his exact location. He smiled to himself as he listened to Zack who was making an effort to talk to him even though he couldn’t answer.

Carmen and the others kept trying to force Le Chèvre to speak with him for some reason, but the other man refused to say a word to him. He kept saying he wanted to speak to him in person and not over com, and Mime Bomb wondered what was going on. He remembered how Le Chèvre had done nothing to help him when he was being kidnapped, and he assumed it was about that. He had no idea what had caused Le Chèvre to freeze like that, and he was honestly a little annoyed he hadn’t put in more of an effort. He knew Le Chèvre didn’t like him, but surely he didn’t hate him that much, did he?

Mime Bomb wasn’t sure how long the car ride was because he was so focused on listening to his team, and so when they slowed down and pulled in front of a massive gated house, Mime Bomb was taken by surprise. The gate swung open and they drove inside, the building looking more secure than even V.I.L.E Island. Dozens of armed men were everywhere, and they were all staring towards the car as it came to a stop.

“You may get out of the car now, Yuri,” Viktor told him, getting out himself.

The second Mime Bomb stepped out of the car, the dozens of armed men began cheering like they had accomplished some great victory. Mime Bomb stared at them with wide eyes and didn’t move, having no idea what was going on.

“Mime Bomb? What’s all that noise?” Zack demanded, “Are you driving past some sort of parade?”

Mime Bomb glanced at the cheering men, and then back at the car, suddenly wanting to get back in. Viktor walked around to his side of the car and then rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He then snarled something at the men in Russian and they all quieted. The mood was odd, and Mime Bomb was confused and incredibly concerned. Viktor led him towards the house and as he passed by the armed men they all clapped him heartily on the back and greeted him in Russian. Mime Bomb simply stared at them like a deer in headlights.

Luckily the only ones who followed him inside were just the four men he’d been traveling with. 

“Please excuse the rudeness, but we will need a vial of your blood to confirm your identity. Our doctor will be here very shortly, and so you can have a few minutes with your friend.”

Mime Bomb grimaced at the thought of them taking some of his blood, but he followed along behind Viktor without protest as he was led to a thick wooden door. Viktor unlocked the door and motioned him inside. Mime Bomb cautiously peered into the room, and his eyes immediately fell on the small boy sitting on the bed. They stared at each other, and then Mime Bomb surged into the room, throwing his arms around Player tightly.

“Mime Bomb!” Player gasped out in surprise.

Viktor closed the door and locked it, and Mime Bomb didn’t hesitate as he pulled away from Player, and yanked the com out of his ear, holding it out to him. Player let out a gasp of surprise and eagerly seized it.

“You managed to smuggle a com!”

Player placed it into his ear and could immediately hear Team Red talking.

“Hey, guys,” he greeted.

“PLAYER?!” Ivy shrieked.

“Player!” Carmen exclaimed in shock, “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“No, Red, I’m fine,” he assured her, “They’ve been pretty decent kidnappers in my opinion. Other than the crippling boredom, I’m doing alright.”

“Is Mime Bomb with you?” Shadowsan demanded.

“Yeah, he’s right here. He was just brought in a few seconds ago, and he gave me his com.”

“We know you’re in India, but we just need a location and then we’re on our way,” Carmen assured him, “Do you know where you are?”

Player frowned. “No, sorry, Red, I have no idea.”

Mime Bomb then nudged Player and then began hurriedly signing.

Player’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh! Mime Bomb says he knows exactly where we are!”

Mime Bomb signed and Player nodded as he tried to make sense of it.

“Okay, he says we’re in the state of Jammu and Kashmir, in the Jammu district. Look for a large mansion surrounded by a ten foot tall wall with a black gate. The building is nearby the town markets.”

“Perfect!” Carmen said excitedly, “We’re on our way guys, we’re on our way to get you!”

“Going radio silent for now in case they’re listening in to us,” Player told her, “Please get us out of here.”

“We’ll see you soon!” Carmen promised.

Player then turned a wide grin up at Mime Bomb. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you!” he told him, “I’ve been so worried about you guys! How did the transplant go?”

As Mime Bomb caught Player up on everything he had missed, Player had a really bad feeling about this. Why did these men want Mime Bomb so bad? Why were the men now acting in such a strange way? Something wasn’t right and he seriously hoped nothing bad was going to happen to the mime.

Player told him everything that had happened with him as well, and when Mime Bomb heard about the escape attempt, he looked visibly worried.

“It’s okay,” Player assured him, “I’m not hurt. I’ll never do anything that stupid again though. Some weirdo nearly pulled me off to his murder basement.”

Mime Bomb was about to respond when there was the sound of the door being unlocked. Viktor entered the room with a man he didn’t recognize, and spoke a few words in Russian to the man.

“This is the doctor that needs a sample of your blood,” he told Mime Bomb, “Please do not give him a hard time about this, or we will be forced to hold you down to get the sample.”

Mime Bomb glanced over to Player who seemed incredibly concerned. Knowing he didn’t really have a choice, he nodded and rolled up his sleeve. The doctor swabbed his arm with alcohol, tied off his upper arm with a band and then gently felt around for a good vein. Mime Bomb winced as the needle entered his arm and then he watched as his blood was drawn.

The doctor didn’t only take one vial, he took three and Mime Bomb shot Viktor an accusing look. Viktor saw the look and then spoke to the doctor who responded in Russian. Viktor gave Mime Bomb an apologetic look and then shrugged.

“The doctor wishes to check your health at the same time. I apologize about the extra blood taken.”

The doctor withdrew the needle and then placed a smiley face bandaid over the tiny wound. The doctor then handed him a lollipop, and then turned and left the room without a word.

“Well, that was interesting…” Player commented.

Mime Bomb frowned down at the bandaid and then at the lollipop. 

“You may relax for the rest of tonight,” Viktor told him, “I’ll be back for you in the morning.”

Viktor then turned and followed the doctor out of the room. Mime Bomb handed Player the lollipop and then rolled his sleeve back down.

“Guys, did you hear that?” Player asked, “I think we’re being moved in the morning!”

“I heard,” Carmen confirmed, “Don’t worry, our plane will land during the night. We’ll get you back, don’t worry.”

Player and Mime Bomb exchanged a long look, knowing how dangerous of a rescue this was going to be.

“Just be careful, Red, there are dozens of guards here.”

“Will do,” Carmen confirmed.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

“Okay guys, are you ready for the surprise?” Crackle asked, shooting the rest of his team an excited grin.

“What is it?” Roosevelt asked, peering out the van window, “And where is it?”

“We’re almost there!” Crackle informed him, “I’ve been setting this up for the last three days!”

“Did you find Team Red?” Paper Star demanded.

“No, nothing like that,” Crackle answered, “But I know you guys will love it just as much as I do!”

“Okay, now you’re really getting me curious, wombat,” Neal commented, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this excited.”

Crackle pulled the van over to the side of the road. “Okay, everyone out of the van!”

Everyone exchanged confused looks and then piled out of the van to stand next to him on the sidewalk.

“Okay, now what did you drag us here for?” Dash demanded, glancing around them with a frown.

“I’m showing you the surprise?”

Everyone looked one way and then the other but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

“Er...where?” Moose Boy asked in confusion.

“Here it is!” Crackle announced proudly, pointing to the house behind them.

The house was two stories tall with boarded up windows, peeling and dirty-looking paint, a sunken roof, and grass and weeds so tall you could barely see over them.

“Here’s what?” Dash demanded, staring at the condemned house in front of them in disgust.

“This is our new base!” Crackle announced with a large grin.

The rest of the team glanced at the house that looked like it was ready to fall down at any moment, and then turned to stare at Crackle in disbelief.

“This is a joke, right?” Paper Star demanded.

Crackle shook his head. “I know it needs a little work-”

“It needs a wrecking ball,” Neal corrected.

Crackle continued as if he hadn’t heard. “But I know a thing or two about construction, and we can get this place fixed up in no time.”

“I hate it,” Theodore commented, “It smells like a musty gym sock.”

Crackle’s smile wavered a bit. “Oh… well I’m sure the smell will fade once it’s cleaned up!”

“Did you really buy this?” Dash demanded skeptically.

“Why, what’s wrong with it?” Otterman demanded, unable to see far enough to tell how bad it was.

“This was the only house within our budget in this area of San Diego,” Crackle explained, “I paid for it in cash.”

“I almost expected you to say you paid for it with loose change,” Neal commented in amusement.

“I have plenty of money,” Dash pointed out, “We can get a really nice place that isn’t crawling with vermin.”

Crackle shook his head. “No, this purchase was off the grid, and V.I.L.E won’t be able to trace it. None of us can use our personal accounts, and we need to use cash only to be safe. If we’re careful, we should be able to do the renovations ourselves, and have enough to live off for a while. When we run out of funds, we can pull a few small jobs.”

“Oh, well, good luck with all that,” Dash told him, “I’ll be at the Hilton when you’re done with all this.”

“No, everyone is going to be helping with the renovations,” Crackle responded, “No exceptions.”

“What about Sven?” Moose Boy protested, “I’m not letting him do construction! He’d kill himself!”

Otterman flushed. “I would **not** ki-”

“Sven will be in charge of keeping track of our supplies and finances,” Crackle answered, “He won’t be doing anything physical for quite a while.”

“I’m really feeling fi-”

“No arguing,” Crackle scolded, “Everyone has a job to do and if we all work hard, we should be able to finish it in just a few weeks.”

“Um, Graham?” Dash questioned.

“Yes?”

“What exactly about me makes you think I know anything about construction?” he demanded, “I’ve never even held a hammer before!”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Crackle responded, “Neal, you said you have construction experience, right?”

“Yeah,” Neal replied with a nod, “My brother and I used to do our own home renovations because he was too cheap to pay someone else to do it.”

“Roose and I did a lot of construction growing up too,” Theodore informed them, “I actually enjoyed it. It’s a good workout.”

“Good, those with experience can teach those that don’t know what they’re doing,” Crackle announced.

“Hear that, Dashie?” Neal teased, “I’m in charge of you!”

Dash scoffed, but didn’t comment about it. Instead he turned an unhappy glare in Crackle’s direction. “This house is disgusting. You don’t expect us to sleep here, do you?”

“What, no, of course not,” Crackle answered, “The plumbing doesn’t work yet and the house is a mess.”

“Thank god for small favours,” Dash muttered to himself, “Which hotel are we staying at? We should probably choose one a little closer to here than the one we’re at right now.”

“We’re not staying at a hotel.” Crackle replied, “Tonight is our last night in a hotel.”

Dash frowned. “Motel?”

“Nope.”

“Bed and Breakfast?”

“Nope.”

Dash was now very concerned. “...Airbnb?”

“No, I have something much better planned. You’ll have to wait and see!” Crackle said, looking overly pleased with himself. “For right now, our priority is getting the bathroom working so we don’t have to use the portapotty.”

Dash glanced all around and then narrowed his eyes at the sight of it, having absolutely no intention of using it.

“Dash, do you want to help with design?” Crackle asked, “I was thinking that would be one of the jobs you’d be assigned.”

Now **that** was something that interested Dash, and he eagerly stepped forward. “Yes, you will give me **complete** creative control and I might actually be able to make this house livable!” he vowed.

“Great,” Crackle said enthusiastically, “Now let’s all go to the hardware store to do some shopping! Today we’ll try to get the plumbing working, and mow the grass.”

As they crawled back into the van, Otterman squinted in the direction of the house. “Is it really that bad?” he whispered to Paper Star.

“Worse,” she replied.

“Oh, wonderful,” he commented.

Otterman was glad he wasn’t going to be in charge of trying to fix it up, and knew he’d gotten the easiest job. He was excellent at budgets and financing and he felt confident he'd be able to do his job well.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Mime Bomb woke with a start when he heard the door being unlocked, and he hurriedly sat up in bed. He glanced next to him at Player who was still sound asleep, and then turned his eyes back to the door. Viktor and Boris both entered, and when they saw he was awake, they gave him a cordial nod.

“We need you to come with us now, Yuri,” Viktor requested.

Mime Bomb felt rather uneasy about this situation and he reached over to shake Player awake. Player blinked awake sleepily and then let out a squeak of surprise at the sight of the two Russians standing over the bed. Mime Bomb signed, letting him know it was time to leave, but Viktor quickly shook his head.

“No, little Matteo needs to stay here. Only you are coming.”

Player gave Mime Bomb a terrified look, and so Mime Bomb reached out and took his hand, giving a stubborn shake of his head to Viktor.

“Only you are needed,” Viktor insisted, “Matteo will be safe, I promise.”

Mime Bomb shook his head again, refusing to leave Player behind. Boris muttered angrily to himself, but seemed to be letting Viktor handle the situation because he didn’t try to intervene.

“You are really insisting on this?” Viktor demanded.

Mime Bomb met his gaze fiercely and nodded his head. Viktor sighed and then nodded in return.

“The boss isn’t going to be happy over this, but it’s your decision to make.”

Mime Bomb was rather surprised by this, and then glanced to Player who seemed relieved.

“Hurry and get your shoes on,” Viktor ordered, “We need to leave immediately. The boss is waiting and he’s not the most patient person to deal with.”

Mime Bomb and Player both grabbed their sneakers from the floor and hurriedly put them on.

“Yuri, you have my word, that after you speak with the boss, you’ll be free to go.”

Mime Bomb gave Viktor a completely bewildered look and so the man continued.

“If you choose to leave, no one will stop you, and no harm will come to you or little Matteo.”

Mime Bomb narrowed his eyes, not believing any of this for even an instant.

“Come, come,” Viktor ordered, motioning for them to follow, “Breakfast will be served at the boss’ house. This will be a very peaceful meeting, I promise.”

Mime Bomb glanced to Player who looked just as skeptical as he did. They followed after the two men without protest, and as they left the house they were immediately greeted with the sight of the dozens of armed men from the night before. Although there was no clapping or cheering this time, they seemed strangely glad to see him, and there were smiles all around. It made Mime Bomb incredibly uncomfortable and he stepped between Boris and Viktor to hide out of view as they walked to the car.

Three cars followed behind theirs, and another three led the way, making it very clear that no one was getting anywhere close to their car. Team Red had been listening to the whole conversation, and Player could hear them discussing it.

“The others are on their way,” Carmen assured him, “Shadowsan wouldn’t allow me to join the mission, but everyone else are almost to you. Another hour and they should be in the city. Do you know where they’re taking you?”

Player eyed Viktor and Boris, who were sitting up front and then quietly whispered “No.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Carmen assured him, “They should be able to trace your com once they’re within range. Just do everything these men tell you to and don’t argue with them. Don’t give them a reason to hurt you.”

“Where are we going?” Player asked, doing his best to look sweet and innocent.

“Never you mind, Matteo, you are not even supposed to be coming with us. Behave yourself or you might offend the boss.”

“Who’s your boss?”

“Nosy little goblin,” Boris muttered, “I really hate children.”

“And they hate you too,” Viktor replied with a roll of his eyes.

Boris let out a snort and then turned to glare at Player. “No more talking.”

Player fell silent, knowing they weren’t likely to tell him anything. They drove to the other end of the city and entered an incredibly fancy and wealthy neighbourhood. They came to a large black gate which opened to allow them to enter, revealing a massive estate that looked fit for royalty. 

“1740 Robastian Court,” Player read outloud, “This is a really fancy looking place!”

“And you will behave yourself!” Boris snapped at him.

“Thanks, Player,” Carmen said into his com, “Just try to stay safe until the others get there.”

The cars all drove up the long driveway and parked in front of the manor, and Viktor turned to face Mime Bomb.

“Be as polite and as respectful as you can,” he instructed, “The boss is known for his bad temper and you don’t want to end up on the wrong side of it.”

Mime Bomb gave a hesitant nod, having no idea what to expect. They got out of the car, and Viktor led the way as they approached the butler who waited for them at the door. He greeted them in Russian and then his gaze fell on Mime Bomb’s makeup and outfit. He immediately began gesturing to him while speaking frantically, clearly upset about something, and Viktor responded with a shrug and a few words. The butler switched to English for Mime Bomb’s sake, and then motioned for several servants to approach.

“He can **not** be brought to the boss like this! Clean him up and make him presentable as fast as you can!”

Mime Bomb didn’t even have time to respond to that before he was seized by an entire group of servants and quickly ushered away. He glanced back to Player who was left standing next to the front door, having no idea what to do. The butler looked down at Player with a disgusted expression and then he let out a deep sigh.

“You will be shown to a waiting room where refreshments will be brought for you.”

“Er...well, actually I’d really rather-”

“No arguments, small and dirty child!” the butler responded.

“I am **not** dirty!” Player responded, offended.

“All children are dirty,” the man replied, nose in the air.

Player then recognized the butler, and his eyes widened in surprise. “Wait a second!” he exclaimed, “I know you! You were at the Finnegan building! Sebastian, right? You used to be the secretary for Michael Finnegan!”

The butler seemed taken off-guard and then he narrowed his eyes. “Escort the little boy to the west-wing waiting room,” he ordered.

“Why are you here?” Player demanded, “Are the Finnegans behind this?”

“Come along, Matteo,” Viktor said, placing a hand on his shoulder, “No more questions.”

As Player was led away, he shot a concerned look over his shoulder, having no idea what was going on.

To Mime Bomb’s horror, he was yanked into a bathroom by the servants, stripped down and then shoved into a hot shower. The servants then went about scrubbing the makeup off his face while washing his hair at the same time. Mime Bomb kicked and struggled, but he was outnumbered, and less than a minute later, he was clean and pulled back out of the shower. He was then hurriedly dried off and new and very expensive clothes were shoved into his arms.

“_ быстрее! быстрее _” he was scolded by one of the servants.

When he hesitated a moment too long, the man grabbed the black silk dress shirt from Mime Bomb and yanked it down over his head impatiently. Mime Bomb hurriedly finished dressing so it wouldn’t be done for him, and then to his annoyance, his hair was slicked back and a toothbrush was shoved into his hand.

“быстрее!” he was scolded again, and so he obediently brushed his teeth.

He barely had time to spit before he was pulled out of the bathroom and then back to the main hall where Sebastian was waiting for them.

“Five minutes,” Sebastian scolded, “I expected better of all of you!”

The servants shot unhappy looks to Mime Bomb who knew he was the reason for the delay. Sebastian _ tsked _ once more, and then began circling Mime Bomb, looking him up and down critically.

“Much better,” he said approvingly, “You finally look presentable. Now, follow me if you please.”

Mime Bomb signed, asking where Player was, but Sebastian rolled his eyes. “I don’t know sign language,” he informed him, “Now stop delaying and come with me.”

Mime Bomb shook his head.

“Don’t be difficult,” Sebastian said impatiently, “Follow me, now.”

Mime Bomb stomped a foot and then shook his head.

“I don’t know what you want,” Sebastian informed him, looking annoyed.

Mime Bomb held a hand beside him approximately how tall Player was and then pointed around, getting agitated.

“Oh, this is ridiculous,” Sebastian muttered to himself, “Yet another spoiled Volkov. What do you want? The little boy?”

Mime Bomb nodded and crossed his arms.

Sebastian heaved a weary sigh and then adjusted his glasses in annoyance. “Fine, fine, fine, but we have to hurry.”

Mime Bomb relaxed and followed after Sebastian, allowing him to hurriedly lead him through the manor. When Sebastian opened a door and revealed Player sitting on a couch happily eating sweets, the butler immediately turned his gaze to Viktor.

“Can you please accompany us? I have no idea what he keeps trying to tell me.”

“I’m okay,” Player assured Mime Bomb, “Viktor said you won’t be gone long and so I’ll just have breakfast while I wait for you.”

“Nothing will happen to Matteo,” Viktor assured him, approaching, “Now what is it you want to say?”

Mime Bomb scowled and began signing.

Viktor gave him a nod. “Yes, Sebastian **is** a prick,” he agreed.

Sebastian sputtered indignantly, and then turned on his heel to walk away. Viktor shot Mime Bomb a grin and then they hurried to catch up to the other man. Sebastian sent them both a glare, but said nothing as he led them up a grand staircase to the second floor. They were taken to an incredibly ornate door and then Sebastian rapped hard using the knocker.

The door was opened by a guard within and they were led into the room. Mime Bomb stared around the room and saw it seemed to be someone’s personal suite. There was a small sitting room and he was encouraged to take a seat to wait. 

Glancing up at the walls, his gaze fell on several portraits. Not thinking too much of it, his eyes went from portrait to portrait in curiosity. Suddenly he saw a very familiar face staring back at him in one of the portraits. Getting hurriedly to his feet, he crossed the room and stood in front of the fireplace, staring at the family before him. There were four people in the portrait, three men and one woman, all with the same dark hair and stormy blue eyes. He stared at one of the men and felt his breath catch in his throat. It was his father. His father was young in the portrait and he was smiling widely, his arm wrapped around his brothers affectionately. As Mime Bomb stared at the faces, he recognized Maxim, and then Dmitry, but he was pretty sure he’d never met the woman.

“I had that painting commissioned twenty-five years ago,” said a voice directly behind him.

Mime Bomb spun around and was met with the sight of an old man leaning heavily on a cane. The man had the same blue eyes as the others in the portrait, and his expression was stern and a little bit angry.

“Come here, Yuri Volkov,” he ordered, “Let me take a look at you.”

Mime Bomb felt rather uncertain, but the old man didn’t seem to be an immediate threat and so he took a few steps closer to him. The old man raised a hand and laid it on Mime Bomb’s cheek and then stared at him as if studying him.

“I see Alexei in you,” he confirmed, “I have no doubt that you are a Volkov.”

The old man then pulled him down and planted a kiss on top of his head.

“Welcome home, Yuri,” he stated, “I am your grandfather, Mikhael Volkov, head of the Volkov empire.”

Mime Bomb gasped and pulled away, staring at Mikhael in shock. Grandfather?! He had a grandfather?!

Mikhael turned his gaze to the portrait and a brief pained look crossed his face. “My oldest son, Maxim,” he introduced, “He is ten years dead now.”

Mime Bomb stared at Maxim and even though he knew the other man was long dead, he still got a shiver of fear when he looked at him.

“My second son, Alexei, your father,” Mikhael said, “He is five years dead now.”

Mime Bomb had suspected it, but to hear it confirmed left a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. His father was gone, and he’d never get to see him again.

“My only daughter, Alexandria, twin to Alexei,” Mikhael continued, “She was disowned over two decades ago. She is likely dead by now.”

Mime Bomb stared at Alexandria and then at his father, easily able to see how much they looked alike.

“My youngest child, Dmitry,” Mikhael said sadly, “He is the only one left now, but even he stopped contacting me after Alexei’s death. I have no idea if he is still alive.”

Mikhael then turned fully to Mime Bomb. “It became clear to me that the Volkov dynasty was in jeopardy without an heir, and so I’ve been trying to locate any and all grandchildren my children created. This was not at all easy, and it took me many years before I was able to locate one. I found a child of Dmitry’s, but unfortunately, the boy is not suited to lead an empire. He is my blood and so I love him, but I have denied his claims of being heir.”

Mime Bomb stared at him. He had a cousin?!

“You however, might be what I’m looking for,” Mikhael continued, “My sources informed me that you’re intelligent, and incredibly loyal. These are the traits that I’m looking for. I would like to get to know you if you allow me to, to see if you’re a good fit as my heir.”

Mime Bomb didn’t like where this was going, and glanced towards the door. The Volkov empire had been responsible for countless acts of evil and he wanted nothing to do with it.

“You may leave at any time,” Mikhael informed him, “The only thing I ask is that you listen to what I have to say.”

Mime Bomb frowned at him, but he made no move to leave.

“Even if you do not end up becoming my heir, you will still be loved and welcome in this family,” Mikhael assured him, “You are a Volkov, and you belong here. I want to know my grandchildren.”

Mime Bomb stared at his grandfather, up until this moment not knowing he had any other family besides Alys. Taking a deep breath he began signing. Mikhael glanced over to Viktor who immediately stepped forward to translate.

“You stalked me for two months, put my friends and family in danger, and then kidnapped me,” Viktor said.

“Apologies,” Mikhael replied, not sounding at all sorry, “We needed to be sure it was really you before anything was revealed to you. I’m sorry that our treatment has upset you and I promise it will not happen again.”

“I can leave?” Viktor translated, “I can just walk away right now?”

Mikhael gave a slow nod. “You can,” he confirmed, “But please hear an old man out. I just want to get to know my grandson. Join me for breakfast, and then I’ll send you back wherever you want.”

Mime Bomb hesitated a long moment, wanting very much to find out what his grandfather was planning. Did he really want him to be part of the family? What exactly did that mean? What kind of criminal activities did Volkov get up to? Mime Bomb bit his lower lip as he considered it. Even if he refused, Mikhael had mentioned that he had a cousin who was denied heirship. Perhaps he could reach out to this cousin to get to know him?

Mime Bomb gave a slow nod and then began signing. 

“I will stay for breakfast,” Viktor translated, “Is my cousin here? I haven’t met him before.”

“No, no, he’s not here. The boy is a fool and is off pretending he’s spying for us,” Mikhael replied with a roll of his eyes, “He doesn’t realize I know he’s been goofing off for the last several years. I think I have a picture of him somewhere if you’d like to see…”

Mime Bomb nodded, wondering if they looked anything alike.

Mikhael pulled out his wallet and then began digging inside, sifting through several photographs until he found the one he was looking for. He held the photo out to Mime Bomb who reached out to take it. 

“This is my grandson from Dmitry. He was named after me, and I think he’s around your age.”

Mime Bomb’s blood felt like it had suddenly frozen in his veins. It was a photograph of Michael Finnegan Jr.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

“Bored, bored, bored, boooooooored!” Michael moaned to himself irritably, “This whole stupid lab is fucking boring!”

Michael glared at the television screen with a scowl and then reached for the remote to turn it off. His Russian wasn’t good enough to understand the plot of any of the shows, and he was tired of trying. Russian was hard and the grammar didn’t make sense. He’d actually tried hard at first, but he quickly realized he was too dumb to learn a second language. He’d given up after a few months of difficult self-study and hadn’t bothered with it since.

Michael tossed the remote aside and glared at the empty spot his PS4 used to sit. Vess had taken it away after Michael had borrowed his com without asking and then losing it. Vess had been furious with him, but luckily the com had been found on the floor of the infirmary. Vess had been especially grouchy lately, and he’d taken Michael’s PS4 and tossed it into a closet to punish him. Michael had tried to explain that he was just using the com for a few minutes and hadn’t meant to lose it, but Vess refused to listen.

Michael had been forced to listen to a long and boring lecture about respect, and he’d honestly zoned out within the first thirty seconds of it. His mind wandered and he began thinking about how much he’d messed up, and then he stared at Vess’ angry eyes thinking about how they looked almost yellow when he was angry. His mind then began thinking of different animal eye colours he’d seen, which then led to him thinking about dragons’ eyes, which then led to him thinking about mythical creatures. Were dragons and unicorns real, or was that just something in the bible? Michael thought about that for a few moments, trying to recall if he’d ever seen anything mentioned about it in nature documentaries.

Michael remembered seeing something about bearded dragons being kept as pets, and also he vaguely remembered Steve Irwin being chased by a Komodo Dragon. Was it legal to keep one of those as a pet? Could he train it to be his attack dog-er attack dragon?

Michael was then brought back to reality when he was slapped sharply across the face.

“You’re not even listening to me!” Vess snapped in frustration, “You’re just standing there with a fucking stupid look on your face.”

“No, I was listening!” Michael protested.

Vess clearly didn’t believe him. “Oh? Then what was I talking about?”

Michael hesitated. “Dragons?”

Vess took a deep breath through his nose and that was when he proceeded to take Michael’s PS4 away. He then left the apartment with orders for Michael to stay out of his hair for the day. When Michael pointed out the PS4 would help with that, Vess told him he’d smash it if he touched it. 

Michael was then left by himself as Vess went to work, feeling sulky and a little bit rebellious. Not rebellious enough to touch the PS4, but enough to switch all of Vess’ favourite channels to something else. He’d watched several shows in sullen silence, but by mid day he was bored out of his mind.

“Ughhhh!” Michael complained.

Did Vess actually mean he wanted him to stay away for the **whole** day, or was he just being overdramatic? Surely he was over it by now, right? It had been four hours after all and Michael never stayed mad that long. Maybe he’d pay Vess a visit and get him to take lunch with him? Michael pondered that for a moment, and felt certain he’d be able to cheer the other man up.

Jumping to his feet, he headed for the door, looking forward to spending a bit of quality time with his partner. Vess had been a little more distant than usual lately, but Michael assumed it was because of stress. His mind then went back to what Siren had told him and it left a lump of worry in the pit of his stomach. Michael ignored the feeling and hurried through the complex, heading in the direction of the lab.

When he reached the lab doors, he paused at the sight of a sign taped to the door.

‘Do NOT disturb for any reason. Experiment in progress. This means **you**, Michael’

Michael frowned at the note wondering how old it was. Vess likely put that up when he first started work, and so he had to be long done with his experiment. How long could it possibly take to mix a few chemicals in a test tube? Five minutes? Ten at the most? Vess had obviously just forgotten to take down the sign.

Shrugging, Michael opened the lab door with a loud bang, startling Vess who was carefully measuring something.

Vess' hand jostled and a silver liquid slopped into the beaker in front of him. There was instantly a massive explosion, and the lab filled with a thick, black smoke. Michael let out a gasp and charged into the smoke to rescue his partner.

“Numa?!” he called out, “Numa, are you okay?”

Vess was coughing heavily and Michael grabbed his wrist and pulled him in the direction of the door. The moment they were out in the hallway, Vess continued coughing, his face smudged in black ash, and part of his right eyebrow was missing. When Vess finally got his coughing under control, he turned murderous eyes on Michael.

“Do you have any idea what you just ruined?!” he snarled, “That was an entire week’s work!”

Michael was confused. “I saved you!” he protested.

Vess’ response to that was to slap Michael so hard he tasted blood. Vess then pointed to the sign on the door, his expression only growing angrier by the second.

“What part of this sign was confusing to you?”

Michael squinted at the sign. “Um…”

Vess went to slap him again, but this time Michael stepped back.

“Look, I’m sorry!” Michael protested, “I thought the sign was old! I only came to ask you to go to lunch with me!”

Vess said some very colourful words in Arabic, knowing that because of Michael, his experiments had been delayed a full week.

“You are not to step foot in this lab ever again!” Vess snarled, “I don’t care if the building is on fire or if there’s a crazed gunman in the hallways! NEVER go in my lab again, is this clear?”

Michael gave him a slow nod. “Until tomorrow?” he asked.

“Do you know what the word ‘never’ means, Michael?”

“Um...yeah?”

“You are NEVER allowed in my lab again.”

“You’re banning me from coming to visit you?”

“Yes,” Vess replied firmly.

Michael gave him a hurt look. “I’m sorry I messed up your experiments,” he told him, “I just wanted to spend some time with you.”

“And look what that has accomplished!” Vess snapped, “Go back to our suite, Michael, and for your sake, you’d better not find any other way to piss me off today. We will be discussing this in great length later tonight.”

Michael raised a hand to his bloody lip and winced, having a feeling he wasn’t going to like the upcoming conversation.

“I’m sorry…”

“Go away, Michael,” Vess ordered, turning back to his lab, “You’ve done enough.”

Michael watched as Vess re-entered the smoke filled lab, and then he turned to walk away feeling like an absolute idiot. Why did he keep making such stupid mistakes? 

Michael headed for the cafeteria, feeling like drowning his sorrows in copious amounts of grease and cheese. When he entered the cafeteria, there was only one single guard sitting at one of the tables by himself. Michael approached the order station, and his gaze fell on the girl in charge of making the coffee for the entire building. Siren’s words once again came back to haunt him and he narrowed his eyes at the girl. 

Michael thought back to any and all interactions he could remember between Vess and the girl, but he couldn’t really recall much. She did seem to visit Vess’ lab incredibly often and he found that a bit suspicious. Vess had always been polite to the girl, and Michael was suspicious of it. What if Siren was right and Vess was cheating on him?

Michael glared daggers at the oblivious girl, not sure what he should do. Should he beat her face in? Ignore her? Tell her Vess gave up caffeine? Michael quickly shook his head. No, Vess lived on caffeine and he would murder him if he messed with his coffee. He then became aware of someone talking to him. Glancing over, he saw the lunch lady was giving him an odd look.

“What?” he snapped.

“You okay there, sweetheart? I spoke to you five times just now and you didn’t seem to hear me.”

“Mind your own fucking business, you nosy Boomer.”

The lunch lady gave him an unimpressed look. “You going to order food or not?”

“Gimme a slice of pizza with nachos, bacon and cheese on it,” he ordered.

“Doctor Vess told me to stop serving you that,” she responded with a shrug.

Michael scowled at her. “Are you serious? Why?”

The lunch lady gave him a flat look. “It’s over 8000 calories in one dish, and you’re lactose intolerant. He said to encourage you to eat a salad.”

“Salads are for girls and gays,” Michael responded irritably, “I don’t eat rabbit food.”

“Sorry, I really can’t disobey a direct order like that.” 

Michael turned his glare at the nearby coffee girl. “This is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?!” he snarled at her, “I hope you’re happy now, you homewrecker!”

The girl gave him a confused look and said nothing, simply backing a little further away from him.

Michael took a deep breath and then grabbed a family size bag of M&Ms. Tossing some cash at her a lot harder than necessary, he turned and took a seat at one of the many empty tables. This was not turning out to be a good day, and he had no idea what he was going to do. He sat head in hand for a moment, wondering if Vess was planning on breaking up with him. He turned his gaze to the coffee girl and narrowed his eyes. She was around nineteen or so, thin, pretty and had a decent looking body. Michael looked down at himself, pretty certain he had a good body as well. The girl was clearly competition however, and he needed to make her understand how she was overstepping.

Shoving the massive bag of M&Ms in the waistband of his pants, he stood back up, determined to prove himself as the superior one. Stalking back over to the counter, he glowered at the coffee girl and beckoned her over. She eyed him a bit warily, but still approached to see what he wanted. The second she came within reach, he grabbed her by the shirt and yanked her over the counter. The girl began screaming, and Michael slammed his fist into her face as hard as he could over and over. He got in three good hits before he was grabbed from behind and was pulled away from her. Turning around, he saw the guard who’d been eating lunch in the room was now retraining him, and Michael struggled uselessly against him.

“STAY AWAY FROM HIM!” Michael snarled at the girl, “GO NEAR HIM AGAIN AND I’LL **KILL** YOU!”

The girl was sitting on the floor clutching her bleeding face and crying, and Michael felt satisfied. She’d never go near Vess again, he was certain of it.

“I’m calling Doctor Vesalius!” the lunch lady called to the guard, phone already in her hand, “Keep him restrained!”

Michael’s eyes widened. What would Vess say when he discovered Michael had beaten his side-chick? What if Vess had liked her better than him? Michael suddenly regretted his rash actions, knowing Vess was going to be furious. Michael was once again interrupting Vess’ work, and he knew this was not going to end well for him. What if Vess broke up with him on the spot because of this?

Thoroughly panicking, Michael stomped as hard as he could on the guard’s foot. The other man let out a loud cry of pain and released him, and Michael didn’t hesitate to run as fast as he could from the cafeteria. He ran through the halls, shoving aside anyone in his way, hoping to delay the inevitable. If he could hide out for a while, that would give Vess time to calm down before they spoke. Michael would then have time to think up a good explanation that would hopefully satisfy the doctor.

Michael had no doubt that Vess would be sending people to look for him, and so he headed for the place he liked to go whenever he was hiding. Making sure no one was paying him any attention, he snuck through the lower level, and then pressed his hand to one of the keypads next to a door. The door popped open and he slipped inside, making sure not to make any noise.

“Mikey!” DD exclaimed in delight when he entered her room.

Michael didn’t answer, standing next to the door listening for anyone approaching.

DD smiled up at him, amused by the nervousness on his face. “Are you in trouble again?” she asked.

“...maybe,” Michael responded, finally turning away from the door.

Michael looked down at DD and saw she was completely surrounded by Lego. “Where did all** this** come from?” he demanded in surprise, “Did Numa give this to you?”

DD gave him an evasive shrug. Michael frowned suspiciously, and his eyes fell on the nearby box, remembering that was the same one Siren had with him the day they got rid of Braxton.

“Siren gave it to you?”

DD gave him a calculating look and didn’t answer.

Michael took a seat in front of her on the floor and picked up the half-finished pirate ship. “Did you do this?” he asked in surprise.

“Siren was helping m-” DD’s eyes then grew wide and she slapped her hands over her mouth.

Michael rolled his eyes, not especially caring. “That creepy little asshole won’t be visiting you for a while,” he informed her.

DD was instantly concerned. “Why? Is he okay?”

“Naw, he got the shit beat out of him and he’s in the hospital wing.”

DD was instantly distraught. “Oh no! Did Doctor Vess hurt him like he does me?”

Michael’s expression turned unreadable for a long moment before he gave a slow shake of his head. “No...it was someone else.”

DD stared at Michael a bit suspiciously, easily picking up on the guilt on his face. Her eyes fell on Michael’s split lip and she reached out towards him. 

“You’re hurt!” she exclaimed, “Who did that to you?”

Michael said nothing, and then raised his hands to cover his face, once again remembering how angry Vess was at him.

“Mikey?” DD questioned, scooching over beside him, “What’s wrong? Why do you look so sad? Are you crying?”

Michael removed his hands and glared at her. “I’m not Siren,” he snapped, “I don’t cry over every little thing that happens.”

DD’s concerned expression didn’t waver. “What’s wrong?”

Michael let out a deep sigh, his thoughts on the pretty coffee girl.

“I’m handsome, right?” Michael demanded, gesturing to his face.

DD cocked her head. “I guess?”

“Then why does Vess prefer that fucking bitch that makes his coffee? What does she have that I don’t?!”

DD blinked, having no idea how to answer that. “Uhhhh…”

Michael stood to his feet and then began angrily pacing. “Everything I do only makes things worse! I shoulda killed that whore when I had the chance! She’s probably bawling to him right now while he comforts her! I hate her!”

DD had no sweet clue what he was talking about and brushed her long hair out of her eyes as she watched him pace around the room like a caged animal.

“He’s going to kill me!” Michael said in despair, “I messed everything up, and I don’t know how to fix this!”

DD gave him a thoughtful look as she considered how to help. “Can you say sorry?” she suggested.

“That never works,” Michael said with a sigh, “I need to show him I’m better than that girl!”

“How can you show him?” DD asked with a frown, “By taking a picture?”

Michael stopped pacing, and gave her a surprised look. “Actually...maybe a few sexy pictures **would** get his attention…”

Michael considered it and then pulled out his com. Holding the com at arm’s length, he gave his most charming smile and snapped a photo. DD peeked around him to see, and gave a nod of approval.

“See, you have a good smile!” she told him.

Michael stared at the picture and then frowned. It wasn’t good enough. He needed to make it really special somehow. Remembering the movie they had watched together the other night, he suddenly got an idea.

“Wanna earn an M&M?” he demanded.

“What’s an M&M?” DD asked.

Michael pulled the bag of candy out of his belt and held it out. “I’ll give you **one** M&M if you take a picture for me.”

DD stared at the bright and colourful package and cocked her head. “Is it food?” she asked, “They look like pills. I don’t like pills.”

“No, it’s candy,” Michael told her.

“I’ve never had candy before,” DD said thoughtfully.

“That’s not true, I gave you a marshmallow once,” Michael challenged.

“I don’t remember,” DD responded, “Did I like it?”

“You loved it, but then I got yelled at for feeding you something unauthorized.” 

DD stared again at the bag and felt her curiosity grow. “Okay,” she agreed with a nod, “What do I do?”

Michael showed her how to hold the com, and what button to press to take the photo and she took a couple practice pictures before giving him a nod. Michael unbuttoned his shirt so his chest and abs were showing, and then posed himself on DD’s bed, doing his best to look sexy.

“You’re weird,” DD commented, snapping the photo.

“Lemme see!” Michael demanded, snatching the com.

When he saw the picture, he nodded in approval, the pose being exactly like the one in the movie.

“Perfect!”

Typing in a caption of ‘** _I’d fight a dinosaur for you any day!_ **’ he hit send, and then anxiously waited. 

“Will you help me put my boat together?” DD asked, sitting down next to the Lego again.

Michael glanced down at her uncertainly as she held up the thick instruction manual.

“I don’t read so good,” Michael admitted, sitting down across from her.

“That’s okay,” DD assured him, “I can’t read at all!”

Michael took the manual and stared at the complicated instructions, immediately getting overwhelmed. He glanced at the half-finished ship, and then back at the instructions, quickly feeling embarrassed that he had no idea what to do. DD watched his face closely, and when it was obvious he was getting upset, she quickly spoke up.

“Actually, I don’t feel like finishing the boat,” she told him, “Do you know how to build something else?”

Michael tossed the instructions aside in relief and then nodded. “Yeah, I can build a Lego dog.”

“What’s a dog?”

Michael crinkled his nose, certain she was messing with him. “It’s an animal,” he responded, “It’s the evolved form of a cat.”

“Oh!” DD exclaimed excitedly, “Can you show me?!”

Michael hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. “I guess…”

As he put together the very simple shape, DD watched him like a hawk so she’d remember how to do it later. When he was done, he held it out, expecting her to laugh, but instead she let out a gasp of delight and reached out to take it.

“I love it!” she told him, smiling wide.

“Really?” Michael said in surprise, “Normally people laugh at me.”

“It’s perfect!” DD promised, smiling up at him, “Are you going to play with me for a while today?”

Michael glanced back to his com, but there was still no reply. Maybe it **would** be best he stay for a while until things calmed down…

Michael stared down at DD for a long moment, having no idea why he kept coming back here. He supposed it was because DD was too young to judge him, and too young to know how stupid he was. She was always happy to see him, and it was an easy way to kill a few hours. He’d been visiting her from the time she was a toddler, and to his knowledge, Vess had no idea. Vess would have a fit if he knew how often he came here, and he’d probably get in trouble over it.

“Where’s my M&M?” DD suddenly demanded, holding out her hand, “You promised!”

“Oh, right,” Michael replied, ripping open the bag, “What colour do you want?”

“Blue!” DD said, “I like blue things!”

Michael placed a single blue M&M into the palm of her hand and then popped an entire handful into his mouth. DD studied the piece of candy intently and then she hesitantly licked it. It didn’t seem to have much of a taste and so she put it into her mouth and chewed. She’d never tried chocolate before, and the sweet taste was better than anything she’d ever had before.

“Oh, it’s good!” she told him, eyeing the massive bag Michael held.

“Lego’s boring,” Michael told her, “How about we play poker instead?”

“Okay,” DD agreed, “How do we play?”

Michael pulled a deck of cards out of his front pocket and quickly explained the basics of the game. He then gave her a poker card which showed her the different hands and began shuffling the cards.

“Okay, now what can we use to bet?” Michael pondered out loud, “Do you have any money?”

DD shook her head.

“Hmm,” Michael said, glancing at the M&Ms, “Okay, we’ll use these to bet with. Whoever wins the game gets to keep all the candy.”

DD was now completely alert, eyes on the chocolate. Without another word, Michael began dealing the cards.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Mime Bomb stared at the photo in absolute horror, feeling like this was some sort of nightmare. Michael Finnegan Jr. was his cousin. The man he hated more than anybody, the one who had tortured and tried to kill him was his own cousin. 

The picture fell to the floor, and Mime Bomb clenched his fists, certain this had to be some sort of joke. Mikhael watched him closely for a moment, his blue eyes boring into his grandson in a calculating fashion.

“You’ve already met him,” he stated knowingly.

Mime Bomb simply nodded.

“By your reaction, I’d say he hasn’t made a very good impression on you.”

Mime Bomb grimaced. That was the understatement of the year, that’s for sure…

“I met Michael when he was sixteen after he’d run away from the Finnegan home. His mother had told him the truth of who his biological father was, and he set out to find Dmitry. He didn’t find him, but he **did** find me,” Mikhael explained, “Michael had grown up spoiled and pampered and didn’t like the fact there were rules in this family. He insisted on leaving to work for our family. I didn’t see a future for him as head of the family, and so I permitted it.”

Mime Bomb averted his eyes, wanting to leave, but doubting he’d be allowed. He wanted nothing to do with Michael Jr., and he was fully prepared to deny any relation between them. Mikhael took note of Mime Bomb’s stiff posture and he narrowed his eyes.

“Your cousin is an absolute moron, but you have nothing to fear from him.”

Mime Bomb violently shook his head and then signed.

“No. You have no idea what that monster did to me,” Viktor translated, “He belongs in jail.”

Mikhael frowned. “I’m aware he was in jail for a month or so, and I was planning on leaving him there for a few months to teach him a lesson, but V.I.L.E rescued him. I’m sure whatever he did was not as bad as you’re making it out to be. Did you two boys get in a fight or something?”

Mime Bomb looked up and there was white hot fury in his eyes. Without signing another word, he began unbuttoning his shirt.

“Yuri, what are you-”

Mikhael cut off when Mime Bomb opened his shirt, displaying the horrendous scars that covered his entire torso. Mikhael reached out a hand to inspect the scars and he knew just by looking at the wounds they’d been caused by a knife.

“Michael did this to you?” he demanded in surprise.

Mime Bomb nodded as he buttoned his shirt back up.

“He broke my arm, broke half my ribs, and sliced my chest and stomach wide open. I nearly died,” Viktor said, his tone sounding incredibly disturbed, “He starved and tortured me for three days straight.”

Mikhael swore in Russian, and then knelt down to pick up the photograph. “You have been wronged and it **will** be dealt with,” he promised, “Michael is family, and we don’t hurt family. You have my word that he will never lay a hand on you ever again.”

Mime Bomb shook his head and backed up a step.

“Michael is a disappointment, but he is still a Volkov. He is **still** claiming that he’s spying on the Finnegans, and V.I.L.E, but there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s fucking that V.I.L.E doctor. I’ve been looking the other way on that, but he is going to understand that you are off-limits.”

Mime Bomb froze in place, eyes wide. Michael Jr. and Vess were...they were...Nope. He didn’t want to think about that. There had to be some mistake. The two most evil people he knew were together? Nope. Nope. Nope. He shook his head, and Mikhael gave him a questioning look.

Mime Bomb turned away, fully intending on just walking away, but the door suddenly opened and a tiny old woman hurried in. She was short, portly and moved slowly, but her eyes were kind and her face lit up at the sight of Mime Bomb. She hurried over to him and began babbling in Russian to him a mile a minute, and reached up to pull him down by the shirt so they were eye level. 

The woman was very short and so Mime Bomb was awkwardly hunched as she cupped his face and cooed over his freckles. Her hands touched his red hair as if she were completely delighted by it, and then she planted a kiss to his cheek. The only word Mime Bomb understood her saying was his name, and she hugged him tightly while still babbling affectionately. Mime Bomb turned a pleading look over to Mikhael who was watching in exasperation.

“This is your grandmother, Annika,” Mikhael explained, “She doesn’t speak a word of English, but she’s been incredibly excited to meet you.”

Mime Bomb’s gaze went back to the old woman. Grandmother? He had nothing but terrible memories of his maternal grandmother, but Annika seemed to mean him no harm. She looked him up and down and then tutted him as she made a motion to show she thought he was too thin. She then took him by the hand and began leading him away, ignoring the annoyed look on her husband’s face. Mime Bomb glanced over at Mikhael and then at Viktor, and saw both were following behind.

His grandmother spoke to him the whole way through the manor, pointing at various pictures and obviously explaining who was in each. Mime Bomb simply nodded along with everything she said, her sweet demeanor starting to calm him down. They then entered a large dining room, and Annika ushered him into a seat, giving his cheek an affectionate pat. She took a seat to his right, and Mikhael took a seat to his left, not saying a word about any of this.

Mime Bomb glanced around the dining hall, taking note of the extravagant carvings in the woodwork of each doorway. When he looked up, there was a massive crystal chandelier above him, and the entire room seemed to scream ‘filthy rich’. They were only seated for a few seconds when the side door opened and several servants entered, carrying silver trays of food. One was placed in front of each person, and the lid was removed, revealing pancakes and orange juice.

“Съедать! Съедать!” Annika said to Mime Bomb, giving him a pat on the back.

He understood that word from his time in the lab, and he reluctantly picked up a fork. Viktor took a seat at the far end of the table, close enough to help translate if necessary, but far enough away to not intrude. Mime Bomb stared down at the food, but his stomach was twisting painfully, and he poked at it a bit, but didn’t try any of it. 

“Yura?” Annika questioned in concern.

Mime Bomb looked up at her, and something must have shown in his expression because she reached out and rested a hand on his arm, shooting her husband a look. Mikhael glanced up from his breakfast, and stared at Mime Bomb for a moment before speaking up.

“What was done to you at Volkov labs was not supposed to happen,” he said slowly.

Mime Bomb looked over at him, the old man now having his complete and undivided attention.

“I ran the Volkov empire for over sixty years, and I was going to turn over Volkov to my eldest son, Maxim back in 2010. I stepped back to allow him control and without my knowledge he began funding the disgusting experiments at that lab. I had no knowledge of it, otherwise I would have put a stop to it.”

Mime Bomb was skeptical and Mikhael gave him a nod of acknowledgement. 

“I trusted my son, and I couldn’t see how the power went to his head. He was always my pride and joy, but he destroyed everything. He began a war with V.I.L.E and he split Volkov apart. I couldn’t believe it when I was told what he’d done to you, his own nephew. Family is everything to us, but he tossed you aside like you were nothing. As the only known Volkov grandchild at the time, you were a threat to his claim as heir. He had cancer just five years before he met you, and was rendered sterile, and believed he would never sire children. He was afraid I would choose Alexei as heir so the family line wouldn’t die out.

He committed unspeakable evil in the Volkov name, and for that I’m truly sorry. We failed you in all the ways that mattered. Your place is here, and you will **never** be harmed again.”

Mime Bomb hunched his shoulders and was honestly feeling overwhelmed. He wanted time to think about all of this, not quite sure whether to believe him or not.

“We were the ones who organized the rescue of you after V.I.L.E took over the lab. We had an inside contact that worked with Viktor’s brother, and he managed to get you to Dmitry.”

Mime Bomb glanced over at Viktor in surprise. The other man nodded in agreement, a sad sort of look crossing his face.

“My brother Kosnya Kuznetsov worked for over a year to shut down that lab,” Viktor informed him, “Unfortunately he did not make it out of the building alive. V.I.L.E rebuilt the lab, and we’ve been working to take it back and destroy it once and for all.”

Mime Bomb thought of the boy who had rescued him and knew how dangerous it would have been for him to betray V.I.L.E. If that was the case, there was no way he’d survived once V.I.L.E took the lab back over. Did Volkov rescue the boy before V.I.L.E won the fight? Mime Bomb signed to Viktor, asking about the boy and Viktor hesitated.

“What is he saying?” Mikhael demanded.

“He wants to know if we rescued the scientist who saved him,” Viktor replied.

“Go ahead and tell him,” Mikhael said, “Don’t hide anything from him.”

Viktor nodded, and then turned his gaze back to Mime Bomb. “The scientist who rescued you was unfortunately taken by V.I.L.E when they retook the lab. We haven’t been able to get confirmation that he’s alive.”

Mime Bomb’s shoulders slumped, expecting this was the case, but now that it was confirmed he felt a sense of loss. Why didn’t Dmitry take the other boy at the same time? They both could have been saved! He thought of the scientist and could still remember his odd eyes and his snarky attitude towards everyone around him. Despite the other boy’s unfriendly demeanor, Mime Bomb had seen the kindness within him, and he had come to trust him during the first year V.I.L.E took over the lab. Knowing he was likely dead left a deep sense of loss, and Mime Bomb averted his gaze away from Viktor.

“My brother was very close to that scientist,” Viktor informed him, “He was posing as an American at that time and going by the name of Kevin. He was assigned to be Del’s personal guard and it was through this that we learned Del had no loyalty to V.I.L.E. He’d been kidnapped and forced to work in the lab against his will. He joined us once my brother was sure we could trust him, and he was the one to discover who you really were.”

Mime Bomb stared down at the table. Del? He hadn’t even known his name. There was now a name that went with the face.

“I’m sorry we took you in such a way,” Mikhael told him, “I want you to stay here with us in this house and learn about what the Volkov Empire does. You will attend university in order to obtain a business degree, and then you will be apprenticed to me if you show promise. If you’re not suited to someday running Volkov, then you will still be a valuable member of the family. Hopefully one of your cousins is suited for it if it comes to that.”

Mime Bomb stared at him in surprise. Cousins? He had more than one? He quickly signed his question, and Viktor nodded in response.

“Yes, you have three cousins.”

Mikhael nodded as well. “It seems that all four of my children had one child each, but it’s been extremely difficult to trace my grandchildren down. It took me over ten years to be able to find you, and I still have no idea where two of them are. Maxim had no idea he fathered a child, and he died without ever finding out. My children hid their indiscretions well, and it was only through a lot of digging that I found out any of you existed.”

Mime Bomb thought of Michael Jr. and grimaced at the thought of his other cousins being just as deranged. What if the whole family was like that? If Michael was the son of the sweet and gentle Dmitry then what would the child of Maxim be like? Mime Bomb shuddered at the thought.

“What do you say, Yura?” Mikhael asked, “The decision is up to you, you won’t be forced.”

Mime Bomb thought about what he was being offered. He’d be able to get to know his grandparents, his cousins, learn his family history and even attend university. That would mean leaving Team Red, and just the thought of it made him feel guilty. Zack and Ivy came to mind, and he felt an instant longing for his found family. He could never leave them behind.

Mime Bomb hesitated and then began signing.

“What about my adoptive brother and sister?” Viktor translated, “I won’t leave them behind.”

Mikhael didn’t seem bothered by this and gave a shrug. “If you want them, then that’s fine with me,” he replied, “They can join Volkov and attend university with you. It’s always good to keep trustworthy people around you. We will welcome anyone you want us to as long as they can be trusted.”

Mime Bomb wasn’t expecting the invitation to be extended to Zack and Ivy. He doubted they would ever want to leave Team Red and Carmen behind, but he knew it was good to keep their options open.

“Can I think about it?” Viktor translated.

Mikhael gave a nod. “I will provide you with my contact information and you can take as much time as you need. The same rule applies to you as it does your cousin Michael. I expect at least one phone call a week to make sure you’re still alive and well. I want to know my grandchildren, even if you don’t wish to join Volkov.”

Mime Bomb gave a slow nod, feeling too overwhelmed with everything to respond. His grandmother hadn’t understood a word of what was being said, but she could feel the tension in the air and could see how upset Mime Bomb was and so she reached over and took his hand. He glanced over at her and she offered him a smile and gave his hand a tight squeeze.

“After breakfast, we’ll drive you to the airport if that’s where you want to go,” Mikhael informed him, “No one will try to stop you.”

Mime Bomb nodded.

“Съедать! Съедать!” Annika encouraged, placing a fork into Mime Bomb’s hand.

Hoping this would mean he would be left alone to think for a few minutes, Mime Bomb obediently began eating. Annika beamed at him happily and then began chatting with him in Russian, clearly pleased that he was eating. Just as he reached for his glass of juice, several men burst into the room, causing him to jerk his hand in surprise, spilling the juice across the table. They shouted something in Russian and Mikhael and Viktor jumped to their feet, reaching for the guns on their belts.

Mime Bomb stared with wide eyes, and then Mikhael turned to him. “There are intruders trying to break into the building,” he explained, “We need to get you and your grandmother to safety while we take them down.”

Mime Bomb sucked in a sharp breath of fear. Team Red had come for them, and they were in danger.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Michael glanced down at his last two M&Ms and then scowled over at DD’s massive pile. Why was a four year old so good at cards? She only learned to play two hours ago!

“You’re cheating!” he accused, tossing his hand of cards to the floor.

“No, I’m not,” DD replied, also setting her cards down, “I saw **you **trying to cheat though!”

Michael flushed, realizing she was just better than him. “This is stupid, I don’t want to play anymore.”

DD eyed him for a moment and then reached down and slid half her winnings towards him. “We’ll share,” she told him, “Thank you for playing with me, Mikey.”

Michael glared at her for a moment and then glanced to his phone when it dinged. Grabbing it up, he saw Vess had finally replied to his text.

‘** _Don’t think this picture erases the fact that I’m mad at you_ **’

Michael sighed and then replied with an apology.

‘** _Where are you?_ ** ’ Vess demanded, ‘ ** _I want to speak with you for a few minutes_ **.’

Michael didn’t want Vess to know his secret hiding spot, and so he quickly stood up. ‘** _On my way,_ **” he replied.

“Are you leaving?” DD asked.

Michael nodded. “Yeah, I gotta go.”

DD seemed disappointed but gave him a nod of resignation. “Will you come back to play with me tomorrow?”

Michael had no idea what Vess was going to do to him, and so he shook his head. “Probably not.”

DD began scooping the M&Ms into the empty bag, and Michael stared down at her and frowned. It was a shame that DD was going to be killed soon, and he wondered if any of the new children would be like her. Michael doubted he’d have as much fun with older kids, and knew once DD was dead he was likely going to become extremely bored. 

Michael continued staring down at her and he knew it probably would have been kinder to just kill the girl the same time he did her mother. He’d taken her on an impulse, and Vess had been incredibly pleased when he'd presented her to him. Michael had only wanted Vess’ approval and he hadn’t cared that a baby was going to be experimented on. He had finally gotten Vess’ attention, and they’d been together for over four years now.

Michael had known her the entire time he’d been with Vess, watched her grow, and now it was her time to go. Vess had told him he could watch when DD was disposed of, and Michael was curious of how Vess was going to do it. Would she be euthanized like an animal or would he go for a more violent approach and slit her throat?

Michael had seen violence and bloodshed his entire life, and he was desensitized to it. Everyone died, and there was no point in getting attached to people who were disposable. 

“Here’s your half!” DD said, holding up the bag towards him.

Michael turned away. “Keep it,” he told her, “But don’t you dare tattle on me to Numa!”

“I won’t!” DD promised, smiling up at him in delight. “Thank you!”

As he left the room, he heard her call after him to say goodbye but he didn’t reply. As soon as Vess had older children, there would be no need for DD, and she’d be disposed of like garbage. Vess would likely dissect her to see what effects his experiments had on her body, but ultimately, her remains would be bagged up and thrown away.

Michael remembered seeing his father, Mr. Finnegan, kill his younger sister when he was seven. He had been so excited to finally get a sibling that he had snuck out of his room so he could meet her. The baby had been born late at night, and had been obviously a result of infidelity. The baby was mixed race, and Michael Finnegan Sr. had been enraged. Michael watched from the closet as the baby was violently killed in front of his mother as she screamed and begged for mercy. He remembered the baby’s tiny, squeaky cries which had cut off abruptly, and the baby had been tossed aside like a limp doll. Michael had then witnessed his mother being beaten within an inch of her life. He had watched with wide eyes, his hands clamped to his mouth, too terrified to move.

Michael eventually got several siblings which were the spitting image of Mr. Finnegan, but everything had changed for him. His siblings were all ginger, but his hair and eyes were dark. He looked nothing like the rest of the family, and as he grew, his father became more and more suspicious. When he was sixteen, his mother told him the truth of who his real father was, and he’d been enraged. He remembered what had happened to that baby and he called her some really terrible names. She told him how she had been forced into the marriage, and that there was no escape from this life. He hadn’t cared what her excuses were and he had left the house, fully intending on never speaking to her again.

Michael distinctly remembered the shame and embarrassment of knowing he was a bastard, and he didn’t want to face the man he’d called his father for his entire life. He honestly wasn’t sure what his reaction would be, and he was afraid. He knew the rage Mr. Finnegan had, and knew he or his mother might be killed because of it.

Michael stopped walking and glanced back towards DD’s room. This was the way life was, and although not fair, it was a life where innocent children died. There was nothing anyone could do about it. Michael had to learn to stop getting attached to disposable people. Death had been around him his entire life, and even his friends weren’t safe. He thought of Dustin and how Vess had shot him without any hesitation whatsoever. 

Michael was always alone, and Vess was the only constant in his life. Vess was too valuable to ever be killed by V.I.L.E., or by Volkov for that matter. Vess was not disposable, and he was therefore safe to get attached to. Siren had offered his friendship, but Michael didn’t trust it. Although Vess needed Siren alive, Siren was also volatile and unpredictable. A guard or even Vess could be forced to shoot him some day, and then Michael would once again be alone. Michael wanted someone to hang around, someone to talk to, but he’d have to avoid getting attached.

Michael passed by the infirmary and then continued on his way towards Vess’ lab. If Vess sent him away, where would he go? The Finnegan empire had collapsed, and that only left Volkov or returning home to his mother. Michael hadn’t spoken to his mother since he’d left all those years ago, and he’d rather die than return there now.

Michael Finnegan Sr. had eventually found out Michael wasn’t his son, and he’d been furious, but he hadn’t killed him like Michael had expected. By this time, Michael had proven himself valuable, and so his ‘father’ had allowed him to remain working for him. Everything had changed and Mr. Finnegan was always cold towards him, and he’d been written out of the will. Michael had then planned the assassination attempt, angry and resentful over everything. Team Red and that clown had ruined everything. If it wasn’t for them, he’d now be the head of the Finnegan empire.

Vess wanted that clown more than anything, and Michael was going to delight in watching him get dissected. There was something about the other boy that set him on edge and he didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was the fact he was a clown or perhaps it was because he’d never once heard him make a single sound, even when he was being tortured. Whatever it was, he didn’t like it.

Michael shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts as he reached the lab. Pushing open the door, he saw Vess seated at his desk typing on his laptop. The room was covered in dark smudges of ash from the explosion, and Michael winced, knowing it was all his fault. Vess glanced up at him, and then narrowed his eyes angrily. Michael tensed as Vess stood up, and he knew this was probably going to be bad.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you today, Michael, but I expect an explanation,” Vess snapped, his hands clenching into tight fists.

Michael averted his eyes and then responded with a silent shrug. He was expecting the slap, but it still made him gasp, his hand going to his burning cheek.

“You attacked one of the kitchen staff and I want to know **why**,” Vess demanded, “Did she do anything to you?”

Michael said nothing.

Vess took a very deep and slow breath, his eyes taking in Michael’s distressed expression. Perhaps this would take a different approach…

“Michael,” Vess said, softening his tone, “You’ve been distracted all day, not listening to a word I say, you blew up my lab, got into a fight with a girl and then disappeared for hours. What’s going on?”

Michael clenched his teeth as he thought of the coffee girl. He should have hit her harder. She was a threat to everything he cared about, and he wished she was dead. Vess saw the anger that crossed Michael’s face and he frowned at him.

“What happened with the girl in the cafeteria?” he asked.

“How long have you been fucking her behind my back?” Michael demanded, turning furious eyes up at him.

Vess blinked. “What?”

Michael thought of his cheating mother, and the betrayal ran deep within him as he felt a rage consume him. “How long have you been fucking the coffee whore?” he snapped, “Months? Years? You planning on getting rid of me?”

Vess gave him a completely bewildered look. “...what?”

“What did I do to make you do this to me?” Michael demanded, “I’m way hotter than her, and I can fight better too! Is this why you never want to spend any time with me lately? Tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it!”

Vess stared at him for a long moment. “...Do you think I’m sleeping with the girl who makes my coffee?”

“Yes!” Michael snarled, “You **are**, aren’t you!”

Vess let out a deep sigh. “Michael, I’m gay.”

Michael scowled up at him. “So? I’m gay, and I still like girls!”

Vess sighed again. “No, that means you’re bisexual, not gay. I have never been nor will I ever be interested in women. I haven’t slept with the coffee girl, and I’m not cheating on you.”

Michael’s shoulders slumped, all fight leaving him. “You telling the truth?”

Vess crossed his arms. “Is this what your problem has been today?” he asked, “Where did you ever get the idea that I was sleeping with some random kitchen worker?”

Michael hesitated. “Well, Siren said-”

Vess sighed. “Of **course** it was Siren. Even when bedridden that little goblin still finds a way to make my life more difficult. Don’t believe anything Siren tells you, he’s a liar.”

Michael’s face flushed, realizing how much of an idiot he’d been. “...oh.”

Vess stared at him thoughtfully, and then gave a nod. “I suppose perhaps some of the fault is mine…”

Michael looked up in surprise. “It is?!”

Vess nodded. “I haven’t really been spending much time with you, and I’ve been rather short with you lately. I suppose taking the rest of today off won’t affect my experiment too much since I have to start from scratch anyway. How about we go back to our apartment and just stay there until tomorrow?”

Michael looked at him in shock. Vess was going to take an afternoon off?! That **never** happened! Michael eagerly nodded, and offered him a smile. Vess gave one more glance around his ash-covered lab and knew the cleaners would have to spend all night on it to get it back in shape for the morning. Reaching out, he took Michael by the hand and then began pulling him towards the door.

“That was a very interesting picture you sent me,” Vess commented, “Was that from the dinosaur movie you made me watch with you the other day?”

“Yeah!” Michael said enthusiastically, “There’s a bunch of sequels too! We can have a marathon tonight!”

Vess rolled his eyes. “Joy,” he commented, but didn’t protest, knowing he would most likely sleep through 75% of any movie Michael put on.

As Michael babbled to him about how much he loved dinosaurs, Vess tuned him out, and simply led him out of the lab.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**Things are winding down a bit for the next few chapters! We're getting closer and closer to the end now! ;-) I'll do my best to get the next chapter out in 2 weeks!**

**A huge thank you to the super-talented artists who did artwork for this chapter!**

**Violetfic did eight awesome pics this chapter! She did the pic of the new Team Crackle base, the Team Crackle group shot, Mime Bomb hugging Player, MJ bursting into Vess' lab, MJ's sexy pose, Patient DD, Mime Bomb staring at the family portrait, and Mime Bomb's scars.**

**Coulrosaurus did the awesome pic of Mime Bomb getting fancied up, and she coloured the Team Crackle group pic!**

**The Lego dog is a stock image off Google. I do not own it.**

**Credit for the names of Otterman and Moose Boy go to Animedemon01**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**

**Please don't forget to let me know what you think! **


	29. Not all things can be fixed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone!
> 
> Sorry the chapter is reeeally late this time! I don't really have an excuse. Sorry.  
There is going to be a timeskip starting next chapter. During the missing time is the Team Crackle base renovations and Carmen's recovery. The renovations fic WILL be written, and I'm going to aim to have it posted within a couple weeks. Next chapter will be time-skipped to October, and the chapter after that will be time-skipped to December. The end of the fic is in February, so not too much left now. ;)
> 
> An enormous thank you to the very awesome Violetfic and Coulrosaurus for offering plenty of good suggestions, and for being my betas! You guys really helped improve this chapter and you're awesome!
> 
> Please note that Dr. Vess and Michael Jr. both use the F-word extremely frequently in their everyday speech. You have been warned.
> 
> If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 29**

**Not all things can be fixed**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Vess was lightly dozing to the sound of Michael’s voice, not really caring about the movie that was playing. Michael was telling him everything he knew about dinosaurs, almost all of which was incorrect, but Vess didn’t bother correcting him. He could feel the beginnings of a migraine starting, and knew he was probably over-tired. Vess barely slept due to the nature of his recent work, and it had been over a week since he had slept more than a couple hours at a time. Although he was furious over the work he had lost, he knew there was nothing he could do about it now, and decided to just catch up on some sleep, and worry about his work later. 

“Are you sleeping?” Michael suddenly demanded in an offended tone of voice.

“No,” Vess replied without opening his eyes, “I’m listening.”

Vess felt Michael shift beside him and a moment later a weight settled on one of his legs. Cracking open an eye, he looked down at Michael who had laid his head on his lap, and Vess winced at the pain in his head. Closing his eyes again, he reached down and absentmindedly ran his fingers through Michael’s hair like one would a dog.

Michael continued talking about various dinosaur-related things as Vess went back to dozing, and when he actually fell asleep, he began to snore loudly from the odd position he was laying in. Michael glanced up at him, rolled his eyes and decided to just let him sleep. Slowly and quietly getting up, he turned off the movie, and then left the apartment, hungry and intending on visiting the cafeteria. 

It was the pain that woke Vess a couple hours later, and he grimaced as he raised a hand to his head. When he opened his eyes, the light was absolute agony, and he let out a curse. Vess was no stranger to migraines, and so he closed his eyes and then slowly sat up, his whole body stiff from laying in an awkward way. Getting to his feet, he felt every step inside his skull as he made his way to the kitchen to look for some painkillers. Grabbing a couple Aspirin, he chewed them so they’d work faster, and then leaned against the counter, hoping they would help quickly.

“Oh, you’re awake!”

Vess winced, and cupped a hand to his head once again. “Shh!” he scolded.

“Headache?” Michael guessed, approaching from his left.

“Shh!” Vess scolded again, every sound seeming to pierce his skull like a pickaxe. 

Michael picked up the bottle of Aspirin to see what it was, and even that small sound was enough to make Vess feel like he was going to vomit from the pain. Without a word, he reached out and snatched the rattly bottle away from Michael and set it aside.

“Weed would work better, you know,” Michael commented, “If you want I can go-”

“No,” Vess responded firmly, “What I need you to do is just be **quiet** until these painkillers start to work.”

Michael paused. “Want me to help you to bed?”

“No,” Vess answered impatiently, “I’ll be fine in a few minutes. Go away.”

“I’m gonna go get you a joint just in case,” Michael announced, leaving the kitchen.

Vess could feel the Aspirin taking the edge off his migraine and he slowly opened his eyes, knowing he would likely take it easy for the rest of the night. Vess then remembered that he still had to change Siren’s bandages and let out a curse. Why was Siren always, at all times, such an inconvenience?! It’s like the man was placed on Earth simply to annoy him. Rubbing his throbbing head, he knew the faster he got this over with, the faster he could just go to bed and turn off his com for the night.

Walking slowly and carefully towards the door, Vess left the apartment and began the walk to the medical wing, hoping he wouldn’t encounter anything too loud on the way. Holding his arm to his face as he sneezed, he winced at the painful pressure this caused, and wondered if the smoke from earlier had given him a sinus infection. If he ended up with a painful sinus infection, he was going to blame Michael **entirely** for it.

When Vess made it to the infirmary, he was relieved when he saw Siren was asleep, and hoped he’d stay that way so he wouldn’t have to talk to him. He gave a curt nod to Terry, and then approached a nearby cabinet to get new bandages and antiseptic cream. Being as quiet as he could, he carefully pulled the blankets off of Siren and lifted his shirt so he could remove his bandages. Siren was an incredibly heavy sleeper, and Vess was able to remove the old bandages without waking him. When he put on the antiseptic cream however, it stung and Siren shifted in his sleep, making a small groan of complaint.

Vess ignored it and continued what he was doing and Siren squirmed away from his touch.

“Stop that,” Vess scolded, “Stay still.”

Siren didn’t reply and Vess glanced over to Terry. “Did he give the nurse a hard time about the feeding tube?” he demanded.

Terry gave Vess a flat look. “He’s Siren, of **course** he gave her a hard time,” he replied, “He didn’t kick her though if that’s what you were asking.”

Vess made a noise of disapproval in the back of his throat but knew that was likely as cooperative as Siren was willing to be.

“Has he complained of any pain?”

Terry set aside his book. “Not from his injuries, but I think suddenly being forced to eat is upsetting his stomach. He’s been whining about belly pains all afternoon.”

Vess wasn’t concerned. “He’ll soon adjust to that.”

Vess removed another bandage, but when he began cleaning the wound underneath, Siren finally woke.

“Stop,” he complained, not opening his eyes.

“I’m almost done,” Vess replied, impatiently, “Don’t move.”

Vess suddenly sneezed, and then again, and then for a third time, feeling his eyes begin to water as his sinuses burned. He was now certain this was a sinus issue.

Siren cracked open an eye and looked up at him and then his eyes widened and he stared at Vess with an alarmed expression on his face.

“What?” Vess demanded in confusion, “Did I hurt you?”

“Um…” Siren replied, staring at Vess in an incredibly odd way.

“What?” Vess demanded again, getting impatient, “What’s your problem?”

“Er...Numa?”

“What?”

“Your eyes are bleeding.”

Vess hurriedly straightened up and crossed the room towards the nearby mirror on the wall. When he stared at his reflection, Vess’ eyes widened. He was bleeding from his tear ducts painlessly, the blood dripping down his cheeks. Vess froze in place and as he stared, his nose began to bleed as well. 

“Numa?” Siren called over, “What happened?”

Vess didn’t answer, his migraine coming back full force like a sledgehammer. His vision suddenly blurred and then doubled, and Vess raised a hand to his head. He felt a brief moment of agonizing pain in his skull, and then he fell unconscious, hitting the floor hard. Terry immediately rushed over to check on him and rolled him over onto his back.

“Dr. Vess?” Terry said loudly, “Can you hear me?”

Vess didn’t react.

Siren pushed himself up to his elbows and stared down at Vess with wide eyes.

“Oh, shit…did Vess just die?!”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Mikhael leaned heavily on his cane and tightly clutched a gun in his other hand. He yelled something in Russian towards Viktor who nodded and ran for Mime Bomb and Annika. Holding out a hand towards Annika first, Viktor helped her stand, and then he turned to Mime Bomb.

“Come, Yuri,” he ordered, “I’m taking you to the safe room.”

Mime Bomb shook and head and started to sign, but the other man simply reached out and took by the wrist and then ran for the door at the back of the room. Mime Bomb struggled and fought to pull away but Viktor’s response to that was to toss Mime Bomb over his shoulder without even slowing down. Annika looked surprisingly calm during all this and Mime Bomb stared at her, wondering how many times something like this had happened to her.

Viktor ran down flight after flight of stairs until they were met with the sight of a thick metal door with a fingerprint reader beside it. Annika stepped forward, laid her hand against the pad and the door popped open. The three of them entered the room and only after the door was closed, was Mime Bomb finally set down. The safe room was fully furnished and comfortable looking, and Annika took a seat on one of the sofas to catch her breath.

Mime Bomb pushed Viktor’s hands away from him, gave a furious stomp and then pointed to the door, clearly wanting to leave. Viktor immediately shook his head.

“You will remain here where it’s safe, Yuri,” Viktor responded, “You’re the future of Volkov, and you must live above everyone else here.”

Mime Bomb shook his head and then signed, explaining the intruders were his team. Viktor frowned at him and seemed uncertain.

“Impossible, how could they have found you?”

When Mime Bomb told him about the ear-com, Viktor actually looked embarrassed and shot a look towards Annika as if he thought he was going to get the blame for this. Viktor began speaking in Russian to Annika, and Mime Bomb glanced towards the door. Whereas the outside of the door had a fingerprint reader, the inside was a simple handle and looked like it could be easily opened.

While Viktor’s attention was away from him, Mime Bomb opened the door and ran for it, ignoring the yells from behind him. Every person he ran past was armed and obviously assigned to protect the corridors leading to the safe room. When the guards saw Mime Bomb run past, they stared in surprise and called after him, but he ignored them.

Suddenly there were the sounds of gunfire from outside, and Mime Bomb hoped he wasn’t too late. Holding a hand to his transplant scar, he forced himself to run faster, not noticing as his breathing became strained, the exertion too much. He reached a door leading outside and he threw it open, seeing dozens of armed men taking aim at Team Red. His team were fighting back and there were already several unconscious guards on the ground.

Le Chevre, El Topo and Tigress were holding their own, but Mime Bomb’s gaze immediately went to Zack who was simply running and dodging the gunfire. When Mime Bomb ran out into the middle of the fight, the Volkov men immediately ceased fire in fear they would accidentally hit him. Mime Bomb ran past them all, heading straight for Team Red.

“YURA!” Mikhael bellowed out in a panic.

Mikhael yelled something in Russian and several men rushed forward to seize Mime Bomb who dodged their hands and kept running. He ran straight for Zack who looked up at him in shock, not expecting to see him.

“Mime Bomb! Watch out!” Zack cried, certain he was about to see the other boy shot.

Mime Bomb reached Zack and threw his arms around him in a hug, putting his own body between Zack and Volkov. 

“Yuri?” Mikhael questioned in shock, “Do you know these people?”

Mime Bomb nodded, and made sure he was still fully shielding Zack.

Mikhael frowned at Team Red, and then yelled out an order in Russian. The men all lowered their weapons, and Team Red glanced around uncertainly.

“Yuri, who are these people?” Mikhael demanded, stepping out from his cover to approach his grandson. He still kept his gun at the ready, and clearly didn’t trust them.

Mime Bomb released Zack and turned to face Mikhael, still keeping himself in front of Zack just in case. He signed one word and Mikhael frowned, not understanding.

“Family,” Zack translated, “We’re his family.”

Mikhael glanced around at the very mismatched group of people, and he seemed skeptical. “You’re Yuri’s adoptive family?” he questioned.

Zack nodded without hesitation. “I’m his brother,” he confirmed, “We came to rescue him.”

Mikhael narrowed his eyes, clearly not believing it, and he looked from Zack to his grandson as if trying to come to a decision.

“Did you contact them, Yura?” he demanded.

Mime Bomb hesitated and then nodded. Mikhael leaned heavily on his cane, and then turned away. “All of you are to come inside,” he ordered, “We will settle this matter civilly.”

Chase approached Mime Bomb, gave him a quick lookover, and then leaned in beside his ear.

“Are you in danger?” he asked.

Mime Bomb didn’t believe the Volkovs meant him any harm, but the same couldn’t be said for Team Red. He responded with a shrug, and Chase gave him a nod of understanding. 

“We’ll be vigilant,” he promised, “Is Player still with you?”

Mime Bomb pointed towards the house as the others gathered in a circle around him. Julia reached out and placed an ear-com into his hand and Mime Bomb immediately put it in, now able to hear Carmen and Ivy.

“What’s happening?” Carmen demanded, “Are you guys alright?”

“Zack, I heard gunfire!” Ivy cried out, “Are you okay?!”

“We have Mime Bomb,” Zack confirmed, “He’s okay, and I think these guys aren’t going to hurt us. They want us to come inside to talk.”

“What?!” Ivy yelped, “No way!”

“This seems like a trap…” Chase agreed, “Who even are these people? Did you find out what they wanted with you?”

Mime Bomb grimaced.

“What?” Zack demanded, “What is it?”

Mime Bomb glanced around at his team and knew this wasn’t the time nor the place to explain everything. His gaze shifted over to Chase, knowing this was going to get incredibly ugly once the other man found out.

“Mime Bomb?” Zack questioned.

Mime Bomb reached over and took Zack by the elbow and then motioned towards the house. He knew it would be best to explain once everyone was a little more calm and comfortable.

“You sure we’ll be safe?” Zack whispered.

Mime Bomb turned to Mikhael who was watching them with a frown on his face. Mime Bomb honestly didn’t trust him, but he didn’t think the other man would hurt his friends if he was truly trying to win his loyalty.

Mime Bomb gave Zack a nod, who exchanged a look with the others. Le Chevre hung back as if he were trying to avoid Mime Bomb, but El Topo was nudging him along, a somewhat impatient look on his face.

“Please follow me,” Mikhael requested, “You have my word that as long as you behave, you are in no danger here. 

“Be very careful,” Shadowsan cautioned them, “Always keep at least two ways to escape in mind. Don’t trust anyone.”

The small group headed inside, escorted by dozens of armed and angry looking guards. They were led through the manor and a few minutes later, Mikhael opened the door, revealing Player. Player was holding a cupcake in one hand, but he froze when the door opened. When he saw Team Red he let out an excited ‘whoop’ of delight and jumped to his feet, running and throwing himself at Zack.

“Oh, heya there little buddy!” Zack greeted in surprise as he returned the hug, “How have you been?”

“I’m okay,” Player assured him, “No one hurt me.”

Zack hugged him even tighter. “You’re so tiny!” he exclaimed, “Our tiny, itty bitty computer nerd!”

“Oh get off!” Player laughed, pulling away, “I’m not **that **small! I’m going to get a growth spurt any day now!”

“We have kept our promise and your little friend was not harmed,” Mikhael stated, taking a seat on one of the couches. “Please take a seat so we may discuss everything.”

Everyone looked to Mime Bomb who gave them a nod, and so the others all awkwardly and hesitantly took a seat on the several couches in the room.

“I am sorry that I had to put your team through so much distress,” Mikhael began, “I just wanted to meet my grandson.”

“Grandson?!” Tigress yelped.

Mikhael nodded. “Yes, Yuri is my grandson.”

Chase stiffened in his seat. “Then you are a Volkov.”

Mikhael nodded again. “Yes, I am Mikhael Volkov, head of the Volkov empire.”

Chase’s eyes hardened, and the rage that crossed his face was startling. “Then you are the one responsible for the murder of my family.”

Mikhael looked confused, but before he could say anything, Chase lunged towards the older man and wrapped his hands around his throat.

“You murdered my wife and daughter!”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Crackle pulled a notepad out of his front pocket and then flipped it open.

“Okay, team, we need to get everything on this list for today,” Crackle announced as the van pulled up in front of the store. “We need to concentrate on cleaning up the property and repairing the bathroom. We’ll all need work clothes and masks for the dust, and probably gloves and work boots as well.”

Dash made a derisive sound in the back of his throat and Crackle turned to look at him. 

“Unless you want a broken foot from possible accidents, I suggest you buy the boots.”

“How limited is our budget?” Otterman demanded, leaning over in an attempt to see the notebook.

Crackle handed it to him, and Otterman squinted at the pages and then his eyes widened. “Are you serious?! How are we supposed to work with such a small budget?!”

“We’ll have to make it work,” Crackle responded with a shrug.

“Buying new is out of the question,” Otterman said with a frown, “We’ll have to get second hand work clothes from a thrift store.”

“This just keeps getting better and better…” Dash muttered.

“Tools can be rented,” Neal pointed out, “and a lot of flooring and fixtures can be purchased through a demolition store.”

“We are **not** buying a second hand toilet,” Dash said firmly, “That’s where I draw the line.”

“Don’t worry, Dashie, I don’t think they’re allowed to sell second hand toilets.” 

“This is already hell,” Dash commented with a deep sigh.

“No complaining, I’m doing the best I can,” Crackle responded, getting out of the van.

Everyone except for Dash got out of the van, who shot Crackle a glare and then held out his hand for the car keys. Crackle frowned at him and then leaned back into the van.

“Aren’t you coming?” he questioned.

Dash shook his head. “Did you forget about Steve’s vet appointment? I need to be there in less than half an hour. He’s getting his needles and neutered today.”

Crackle had indeed forgotten. “Oh, right, we’re probably going to be quite a long time, so I’ll text you when we’re done. What size boot do you wear?”

Dash grimaced. “Ten.”

“If you finish early, come find us,” Crackle instructed, handing over the keys.

“Alright,” Dash agreed, intending on taking as long as possible.

Dash switched to the driver’s seat and watched as the others headed into the mall. Starting the van, he pulled out and headed back to the hotel to collect Steve. He’d extensively researched the best veterinarian in San Diego and felt confident he’d made the best decision. 

When he entered the hotel room, Steve immediately bounded over to him, meowing pitifully, confused over the empty food dish.

“Sorry, Steve, you can’t eat until after your operation,” Dash said, reaching down to pet the cat on the head, “I’ll feed you something extra special this afternoon, I promise.”

Steve purred and rubbed against his legs and Dash scooped the cat into his arms and headed for the cat carrier. Steve didn’t give him a hard time, but instead began to meow miserably the moment Dash latched the carrier. Steve mournfully yowled the whole walk through the hotel and to the van without pause. 

“I’ll let you out soon,” Dash assured the distressed cat.

Reaching a finger through the bars of the carrier, he petted Steve’s chin, and then turned on the ignition. Steve yowled the whole way to the vet, and when Dash lugged the heavy carrier into the office, everyone turned to stare at him. 

Setting the carrier down for a moment, he waited in line, not noticing the dog that began sniffing at the carrier curiously. All of a sudden there was a loud hiss, a strangled yelp and the dog leapt away from the carrier in terror, nearly knocking its owner over. The dog whined and pawed at the scratch on its nose, but Dash wasn’t sympathetic. 

“Keep your dog away from my cat!” Dash snarled, “Serves it right!”

“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked, trying to stop any drama from starting.

“Appointment for Dash at ten?” he said, approaching the counter.

The receptionist nodded and glanced at her screen. “You’re looking to have him needled and neutered?” she asked.

Dash nodded.

“And how old is Dash?” she asked him.

Dash raised a brow. “Twenty-six, but I’m assuming you’re referring to Steve in which case I have no idea. I adopted him a couple months ago.”

“Oh…” the receptionist said with an embarrassed laugh, “I thought **you** were Steve! I apologize for the mix-up! The operation should only be about forty minutes to an hour. Will you be waiting here?”

Dash shook his head. “No, I’ll go get a coffee while I wait. Just give my cell a call once he’s done.”

The receptionist nodded, and circled the desk to pick up the carrier. Steve was immediately hissing and snarling at the strange lady, but she didn’t seem bothered.

“We’ll take good care of him!” she assured Dash, “We have your number on file and I’ll call you once you can pick him up.”

As the receptionist carried Steve to a back room, Dash watched feeling a little uneasy. What if something went wrong during the operation? Was it really necessary to neuter a cat? Was he taking an unnecessary risk? Dash knew that male cats tended to spray once they reached sexual maturity, but so far Steve didn’t display any dirty tendencies. Dash thought of all his expensive clothing, and knew everything would have to be thrown away if Steve began spraying.

Dash turned and left, now certain he was making the right choice. Steve would be fine, and all his expensive clothes would be fine.

It was a beautiful day outside and instead of taking the van, Dash decided to just take a walk to find a nearby cafe. Only two blocks away he found a fancy looking cafe and he claimed one of the tables in the front so he could enjoy the day.

A barista spotted him from inside and then came out, orderpad in hand.

“Good morning, Sir! Would you like to see a menu, or do you know what you want?”

Dash looked the barista up and down slowly, determined she looked acceptable, and then glanced down at his com.

“Iced coffee with soy and a croissant.”

“Any sweetener?” the girl asked, writing the order on the pad.

“No,” Dash responded, not even looking at her.

Once the barista was gone, Dash pulled his ipod out of his pocket and put in his earbuds. Feeling relaxed and content for once, he pulled out his pocket sketchbook and began jotting down ideas for the new base. He couldn’t make any real designs until he knew the layout, but he could begin thinking of themes. His coffee and croissant were set down on his table, but he didn’t bother acknowledging the barista, too focused on his work.

Dash was rather enjoying his relaxed coffee morning, and when his com began ringing after only twenty minutes, he frowned. When he saw it was the vet, he yanked out his earbuds and hurriedly answered, knowing something had to be wrong.

“Hello?”

“Is this Dash, the owner of Steve?”

“Yes, what’s wrong? Is Steve alright?”

The vet hesitated. “I’ve encountered a problem…”

Dash’s heart sank. “What happened?”

“Are you far? Can I get you to come back to the office?”

“I’m on my way,” Dash said, hanging up and getting to his feet.

Without even thinking about it, he took off at a run, forgetting that he hadn’t paid his bill. He made it back to the vet’s within a few minutes, and when he burst into the door out of breath, the secretary simply stared at him.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“Vet said there’s a problem with Steve and asked me to come back.” Dash informed her.

“Ah, yes, head on into exam room two.”

Dash walked down the hall and when he opened the door to the exam room, he saw Steve laid out the steel exam table not moving. Dash stared for a long moment, and then hesitantly approached the table. Reaching out and laying his hands on Steve’s side, he was relieved when he felt soft and shallow breaths. He barely had time to calm his panic attack, when the door opened and the vet came in.

“What happened?” Dash immediately demanded, “Is Steve going to be alright?”

“I just needed to clarify something…” the vet said, glancing down at the chart he held.

“What?” Dash demanded again.

“You brought this cat in to be neutered?”

Dash nodded. “Yes, was there a problem?”

The vet nodded, and then approached the exam table. “The problem is that Steve is a month pregnant.”

Dash’s mind froze for a moment as he slowly realized what the vet had just told him. “Pregnant?! Steve is a girl?!”

The vet nodded. “She’s about a year old and other than the missing eye and ear, she seems to be in very good condition. I’m assuming she was a stray you took in?”

Dash gave a slow nod.

“The injuries are very old and likely happened when she was a young kitten. Her fur seems to be growing in nicely, and you obviously take very good care of her. Before I proceed with spaying her, I just needed to make sure you were aware of her condition.”

Dash hesitated. “If you spay her, then the kittens…”

“Won’t be born,” the vet confirmed, “Do you want me to proceed?”

Dash felt out of his depth, and wasn’t sure what the right choice should be. It seemed like a betrayal to take Steve’s kittens away from her, and he hesitated. “How many kittens are there?”

“From the ultrasound it looks like there are two, but it’s still a bit early to tell for sure.”

Two kittens weren’t too many, and he was sure he could find homes for them if there were only two. He had no idea what Crackle would have to say about this, but Dash was ready to fight with him about it. Steve was his cat and he would deal with it. Dash reached out and gently ran a hand over Steve’s bulging stomach. It seemed she wasn’t as overweight as he’d thought...

“You’ll need to bring her back in two weeks for another checkup,” the vet told him, already knowing what Dash had decided on, “I’ve given her all necessary shots and she’s been dewormed and flea-treated.”

“What do I do? I’ve never had a cat before, let alone a **pregnant** cat!”

“Just offer her plenty of food and water, and make sure she remains as stress-free as possible.”

Dash thought of his chaotic team and winced. “Well, I can try…”

The vet nodded. “She’ll wake up in about twenty minutes, and should be fine. There shouldn’t be any complications from the anesthetic.”

Dash picked up the nearby carrier and very **very** carefully maneuvered Steve into it.

“Good luck with Steve,” the vet told him, heading back for the door, “Make an appointment at the front desk for the check-up. Call if you have any concerns.”

Dash nodded and a moment later he was alone in the room. “I can’t believe you’re a girl,” Dash mused out loud.

Dash had never confirmed Steve’s gender after Crackle had named her, just assuming the other man knew what he was talking about. Apparently you couldn’t depend on Crackle when he was having on ‘off’ moment. 

“A month pregnant…” Dash said, his eyes widening in realization. Steve had gotten pregnant while Otterman and Moose Boy were caring for her. 

“...I’m going to kill them!” he vowed angrily.

Dash scowled and picked up the carrier and stormed out of the room, realizing this meant Otterman and Moose Boy had allowed Steve to free-roam outside despite knowing he wanted her to be an indoor cat. He paid and made the follow-up appointment with barely a word and then headed for the van. As he headed for the mall, he got angrier and angrier the more he thought about it. Steve could have gotten hit by a car, or eaten by a coyote, or captured by a local kill shelter, or kidnapped by a small child. It was a pure miracle those idiots didn’t end up losing or killing his cat.

As he pulled into the parking lot, he stopped in front of one of the entrances, and then took out his com.

“Where are you?” he texted.

“Still at Walmart, why?” came Crackle’s response, “Are you back already?”

“I’m at entrance F, and I need to speak with OtterMoose. Right. Now.”

“Okay, we’ll be out in just a few minutes, we’re at the check-out.”

Dash waited impatiently all while keeping a close eye on Steve. When he saw his team exit the store, he got out of the car and then stormed over, his eyes falling on Otterman first. Without a single word, he hauled off and gave Otterman a hard shove in the chest sending the smaller man sprawling to the ground, gasping in both pain and surprise. 

There was an instant roar of rage from Moose Boy and he lashed out with a fist towards Dash, clearly intending on beating him to a pulp. Neither were expecting Neal to suddenly step between them, taking the full force of the punch to the gut, and he doubled over, falling to his knees to the pavement.

Moose Boy hesitated, hand still in the air.

“Dash, what is your problem?” Crackle snarled, stepping between Moose Boy in case the other man took another swing.

“You hit Sven!” Moose Boy yelled, “He’s hurt and you hit him!”

“I didn’t hit him, I pushed him and he deserved it!”

“I didn’t do anything!” Otterman protested, still sitting on the pavement.

“I trusted you to take care of Steve!”

“We took good care of him!” Otterman protested, “We may have accidentally overfed him, but he’ll slim down after a while.”

“Yeah, in 55-60 days!” Dash snapped.

“What happened?” Neal asked, rubbing at his sore stomach, “Did something happen to Steve? What did the vet say?”

“She’s a month pregnant,” Dash snapped, glaring at Moose Boy and Otterman.

“Pregnant?!” Roosevelt exclaimed, “How can a boy be pregnant?!”

“They **can’t**,” Dash snapped, “Steve is a girl and these two morons let her outside when they were trusted to watch her. They allowed some dirty alleycat to violate Steve, and now she’s pregnant!”

“Wait…” Crackle said with an amused smile, “We’re going to have kittens?!”

“I’m not letting any of you idiots near my cat **or** those kittens!” Dash vowed.

“Gee, I’m sorry, Dash,” Moose Boy said as he knelt down beside Otterman, “I didn’t know she was a girl-cat. She meowed at the door and so I let her out a few times.”

Dash crossed his arms and then stormed back towards the van. “I’m taking Steve back to the hotel.”

“Wait, I’ll put our bags in the back of the van,” Crackle told him, opening the hatch, “Come back once you’re done because we still have a lot of stuff we need to get.”

“You’re all idiots,” Dash snapped, getting into the van while glaring at everyone.

As he peeled out of the parking lot, the rest of the team watched him go and Neal got back to his feet, still rubbing his aching stomach.

“Whelp, Dashie’s going to be fun to work with today…”

“Sorry I hit ya, Neal, you sorta got in the way,” Moose Boy said, looking a bit sheepish, “I was trying to hit Dash.”

“I know,” Neal responded with a frown.

“Alright team, let’s get back to shopping!”

Crackle received some less than enthusiastic mutters in return but everyone followed him back into the mall.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Mime Bomb stared at Chase in shock as he grabbed Mikhael by the throat, and he as well as the rest of Team Red surged forward to pull him off. Chase’s grip could not be broken and they fought to pull him off, but it was like a demon had overtaken him. Chase’s expression was downright scary and merciless, and Mikhael clawed and fought against him uselessly, already turning blue. Mikhael had left the guards out in the hall, and he was at Chase’s mercy.

Chase felt nothing as rage and despair consumed him, his mind clouded by his anguish. He saw and heard nothing around him as he stared straight into Mikhael’s startled eyes, waiting to see the light fade from them. Suddenly Julia was in front of his face, her brown eyes filled with terror and pain. She spoke to him in a soft but stern tone of voice, but he didn’t hear her words, too focussed on getting his revenge. He flinched when she laid a hand on his cheek and he met her gaze, his mind finally acknowledging her.

“Please,” Julia pleaded, “Chase, don’t do this. You’re not a murderer. I know you, and I know you’ll regret it if you kill him.”

Chase said nothing.

“You’re my best friend, and I know this will destroy you. Don’t kill him. Prove you’re better than this. Please, Chase, don’t do this.”

Chase didn’t answer, but his hands loosened just enough to allow Mikhael to take a breath. Julia stared straight into his eyes, and didn’t remove her hand, her fingers resting directly on the disfiguring scar on his cheek. Her wide and gentle eyes were silently imploring him not to go through with it, and Chase felt his pain crash in on him like a tidal wave.

“You don’t know for sure this man had anything to do with your wife’s murder,” she said softly, “If you kill him, you’ll never get the answers you need. Let him go, **please** just let him go.”

Chase felt his breath catch in his throat and he looked down at the old man he had at his mercy. Raw pain made his chest feel tight, and he finally let him go, clapping both hands over his face and falling to his knees in utter defeat. Julia threw her arms around him tightly, and the others helped Mikhael back onto the couch and made sure he was breathing alright. Mikhael coughed and wheezed as he got his breathing under control, and he angrily shoved everyone away except for Mime Bomb. He gave Mime Bomb a reassuring pat on the arm, and then turned his gaze to Chase.

Mikhael’s gaze was absolutely furious and he drew his gun, and Mime Bomb quickly stepped between them and shook his head. He placed his hands together in a pleading gesture and mouthed the words ‘I’m sorry’.

“Step aside, Yuri,” Mikhael ordered, “You’ve brought enemies of Volkov into my house! He nearly killed me! I cannot let this disrespect go. He’s a threat to my family.”

When Chase heard that, he let out an odd strangled sound. **He** was a danger to a family?!

“Was Volkov responsible for the murder of Chase’s family?” Julia demanded, tightening her embrace on Chase.

Mikhael stared long and hard at Chase, and recognition crossed his face.

“You **do** know something!” Julia accused, “Did you kill Yu Yan and Diana?”

A brief look of regret crossed Mikhael’s face, but he slowly shook his head. “No. What happened to his wife and daughter was unfortunate but it was **not** my doing.”

“But you know who did it,” Julia said with certainty.

“Yuri, step aside,” Mikhael ordered.

Mime Bomb didn’t budge and he glanced over his shoulder at Chase who still hadn't moved a muscle either. Mime Bomb wanted to learn more about his family, more about Volkov, and more about everything, but he knew he had to make a choice. To him, it was an easy choice. Mime Bomb squared his shoulders and then turned towards Chase and knelt down in front of him. Reaching out, he wrapped an arm around him and shot a glare towards Mikhael. While supporting Chase, Mime Bomb helped him back to his feet, making sure to shield him the entire time. 

“We leaving?” Zack asked him, shooting a furtive look to Mikhael.

Mime Bomb nodded.

Keeping his body blocking Chase the best he could, he began walking them towards the door. The rest of Team Red followed suit and they backed away from Mikhael, keeping Chase and Player in the center of their group.

Mikhael stared in surprise. “Yuri?” he questioned.

Mime Bomb turned his head to look at him, but he didn’t stop backing away towards the door. He gave a shake of his head to Mikhael, and a moment later, they were fleeing through the manor. They were expecting to be shot at any second, but surprisingly enough, no one tried to stop them. The guards watched them pass without a word, and Mime Bomb had a feeling Mikhael had radioed the guards with orders to allow them to leave. 

Chase allowed himself to be pulled along, but it was obvious he wasn’t doing well. Julia had her arm around him and he simply stared ahead as if in a daze. When they reached the foyer, Sebastian was waiting for them, a disapproving frown on his face. Adjusting his glasses as they approached, he held out a slip of paper towards Mime Bomb who paused to give Sebastian a suspicious look.

“Your grandfather’s contact information,” Sebastian explained, “He wants you to keep in contact regardless of what you decide to do. You are a Volkov, and you will always have a place here.”

Mime Bomb accepted the piece of paper and glanced down at it, seeing a phone number and an email address.

“Please call your grandfather at your earliest convenience, because he has a few things to say to your team,” Sebastian stated, stepping back to allow them to pass.

Mime Bomb didn’t like the sound of that, and glanced over towards the door and saw Viktor and Annika waiting there.

“Your grandmother insisted on seeing you before you left,” Viktor informed him, giving him a disapproving look.

Annika yanked Mime Bomb into a hug, and before he could react, she looped a necklace over his head. Mime Bomb glanced down at it and saw it was a simple gold chain with a small, round medallion attached to it. There was the face of a wolf engraved onto it, and he ran a finger over it curiously. Annika spoke softly to him, and Viktor translated for her.

“This is the mark of Volkov. Wear it and it should afford you with certain protections if you get in a tough spot. No one from Volkov or our allies will harm you or your team. This necklace belonged to your father, and now it’s yours.”

Mime Bomb stared at the medallion for a long moment and then gave Annika a nod. She pulled him back down and kissed his forehead, and then let him go, looking a bit upset that he was leaving. Mime Bomb continued with his team and as they passed by Viktor, the man reached down and ruffled Player’s hair.

“Goodbye little Matteo,” he said, “Go home to your parents.”

Player nodded, and a few moments later they were out of the manor. There were guards absolutely everywhere outside, but no one tried to stop them, and they knew how easy it would have been for the men to just shoot them dead. Everyone knew very well that it was only because of Mime Bomb that they were even allowed to leave, and they had a feeling Mikhael would have shot them without hesitation. Mikhael’s eyes had displayed a callousness and anger that felt downright dangerous, and despite being an old man, it was clear he was still a threat.

The tension was crippling as they made their way past the guards towards the gate. The team made sure to keep Chase and Player protected at all times, and once they made it to where they’d parked their van, they finally relaxed. Zack stepped on the gas, and sped away from the manor, worried they were going to be followed. Le Chevre kept an eye out the back window, but no one seemed to be following them. They drove in complete silence for ten minutes and when nothing out of the ordinary happened, they began relaxing. 

Chase sat in silence and ignored anything said to him. Chase fought for the good, he always did what he thought was best, but he had almost murdered an old man. He had no idea if the man was even involved in his family’s murder, but he had been fully prepared to kill him anyway. He thought of his beautiful wife, and then of his equally beautiful daughter. It had been four years since the murder, but it still felt like it had happened just days ago. His child was lost forever, but they had managed to rescue Player.

Chase looked up at the young boy, and without a word reached out and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. They had saved Player, and now the boy would get to grow up and live his life. He could live for Diana, and this gave Chase a little bit of hope. One child had died, but another had been saved.

Player was a bit startled, but when he looked up and saw the tears in Chase’s eyes, he returned the hug, hoping it would help. Julia had her arm around Chase’s shoulders, and she was terrified for her friend. Chase was clearly not okay, and she’d never seen him so erratic before. He needed help, and she would do everything in her power to help him. 

Tigress exchanged a look with El Topo and she clearly had a few things to say. She didn’t voice them however, and instead remained silent as they headed for the airport. Mime Bomb didn’t miss the fact Le Chevre was sitting as far away from him as possible, and had a feeling something had happened. Ivy was holding Mime Bomb’s hand, his adoptive sister unbelievably relieved he was safe, but she hadn’t yet said anything.

Carmen and Shadowsan had gone silent, and Mime Bomb assumed they didn’t want to distract them from their escape. When they finally reached the highway, Ivy reached a hand up to her ear.

“Carm, are you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Carmen confirmed, “What happened?!”

“Mime Bomb’s kidnappers were the Volkovs,” Ivy replied, “Chase...didn’t react well to that.”

“I’m sorry,” Chase said lowly, “I’ve ruined everything.”

“Your reaction was understandable,” Julia assured him, “You weren’t prepared for it, and you lost control for a moment.”

“I could have killed an old man,” Chase responded.

“But you didn’t,” Julia said firmly, “You’re the strongest person I know, and you always do what you think is right.”

“I would have killed him if you hadn’t stopped me,” Chase admitted, “I don’t even know if he was involved in the murder.”

“Friends are there to help you when you need it, and today you need us, Chase,” Julia told him, “We’re going to find out the truth and we’re going to help you get justice for your family.”

Julia then looked up at Mime Bomb. “Where do you stand on this?” she asked, “What if your grandfather or someone else in your family were responsible for the murders?”

Mime Bomb honestly didn’t know, and hadn’t thought of this. He hesitated before responding.

“If anyone in my family is responsible, they should be in jail,” Player translated, “I’m part of Team Red and nothing will change that.”

Julia offered him a smile and reached out and took his hand, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Tell us everything you learned,” Chase ordered, suddenly sitting up straight.

Mime Bomb grimaced and again hesitated.

“What’s wrong?” Zack demanded, “Did something happen?”

Mime Bomb paused for a long moment as he decided what to say, and then raised his hands to explain a very important piece of information.

“Michael Finnegan Jr.?” Player questioned, “What about him?”

Mime Bomb explained, and Player’s eyes widened dramatically.

“Sorry, could you repeat that, I think I misunderstood...”

Mime Bomb repeated his signs and Player shook his head.

“No, this can’t be right…”

Zack frowned and studied the signs as Mime Bomb repeated himself for the third time. “Are you saying Michael Finnegan Jr. is your cousin?” Zack asked.

Mime Bomb nodded, and the reactions inside the van were instantaneous.

“What?!” Tigress shrieked in horror.

“How is that possible?!” El Topo demanded, “He’s Irish, not Russian!”

“You’re joking, right?!” Ivy cried out in horror, “There’s no way you’re related to that creep!”

Mime Bomb frowned and signed once again.

“He is the illegitimate child of my uncle Dmitry. Dmitry had an affair with MJ’s mother many years ago. I have three cousins, one from each aunt and uncle. I don’t know who the other two are,” Player translated.

“Ugh, I can’t believe you share blood with that creep!” Tigress commented, “He’s a pathetic little weasel.” 

“My grandfather is looking for an heir to the Volkov Empire. He wants to retire and has been searching for a suitable replacement.”

“That’s why he kidnapped you?” Carmen asked.

Mime Bomb nodded and Player responded with a ‘yes’.

“He wants me to attend university, train under him and learn about taking over Volkov. He extended the invitation to Zack and Ivy as well. He wants me to be part of the family.”

Mime Bomb’s expression was conflicted, and Chase stared at him in alarm. “You’re not going to join those people, are you?”

“...no,” Player translated, “But I would like to learn more about Volkov and find out what it is they do. I want to know what type of people my family are.”

“I think we already know if MJ is anything to go by,” Tigress commented.

Mime Bomb grimaced, hoping all the Volkovs weren’t like him. His uncle Dmitry had been a soft-spoken and gentle man, and he’d liked him a lot when he’d travelled with him. Perhaps Dmitry was still out there somewhere? He had no idea what his aunt was like, but maybe she was someone worth knowing?

Mime Bomb then began signing again.

“There’s another thing about Michael Jr…” Player translated.

“What is it?” Carmen demanded, “Do you know where he is? Was he at the manor with your grandparents?”

“He’s in Russia with Dr. Vess,” Player said, watching Mime Bomb’s hands closely, “but that’s not what I was going to tell you…”

Everyone could see the uneasiness in the mime’s eyes, and they paid close attention, knowing it must be important.

“Michael Finnegan Jr. and Dr. Vess are…” Player trailed off, his eyes going impossibly wide.

“What is it?” Zack demanded, “What did he say?”

Player sputtered in shock and stared at Mime Bomb, hoping he was joking. When Mime Bomb gave him a nod, Player let out a groan.

“What?” Carmen demanded, “Player, what’s happening?”

“Michael Finnegan Jr. and Dr. Vess are...in a relationship,” Player replied, changing the wording of what Mime Bomb said to be slightly less crass, “They’ve been dating for years.”

There was complete silence in the van for a few beats, and then came Carmen’s voice.

“WHAT?!”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Paper Star stared down at the floor as the rest of her team bickered around her. She’d been thinking a lot about what happened in Tokyo, and she honestly wasn’t sure what to feel. She felt a slight fondness for her team, a feeling that was threatening to grow into something stronger, and she didn’t know how to feel about that. She glanced up as Neal laughed loudly, his large and goofy smile making Crackle roll his eyes. 

Reaching up to her short hair, she closed her eyes, trying to push aside the wave of fear she suddenly felt. Wrapping her arms around herself, she stood there silently, willing herself to calm down and get a grip on her emotions. For the first time in a very long time, she didn’t want to feel nothing, and now she struggled with the emotions that filled her. It was confusing and frightening, and she had no idea how to handle them.

She felt no motivation to do anything at all, and she still hadn’t bought clothes of her own. She was wearing one of Neal’s zebra shirts, and she had simply tied it off to fit her. None of the others had commented about this, but she could see the worry that lurked in their eyes. They were clearly trying to give her space, and she appreciated it, but as the days went on, she felt worse and worse.

Paper Star jumped when she suddenly felt a gentle hand on her arm. Looking up, she saw Otterman standing beside her with a concerned expression on his face.

“Are you alright?” he whispered quietly so the others wouldn’t hear.

“I’m fine,” she responded without conviction.

Otterman frowned at her and then gave a quick glance towards the rest of the team. They were distracted as they fought over tool brands, and so he gently took Paper Star by the arm and stepped an aisle away. Normally Paper Star would have smacked anyone away who dared touch her, but with Otterman it was different. He had almost died trying to save her, and he never once seemed to regret it. Otterman failed in everything he did, but he never gave up, and never stopped trying. She honestly didn’t know how he hadn’t given up long ago.

“What’s wrong?” Otterman asked her quietly, “You’ve been really depressed since Tokyo. Is it because of what happened to you?”

Paper Star shook her head. “No...yes...maybe.”

Otterman nodded in understanding. “You were hurt badly and you thought you were going to die,” he stated, “You felt both helpless and hopeless as the pain and terror just got worse and worse.”

Paper Star’s eyes widened. “How…?”

Otterman gave her a sad smile. “I lived through that every day of my childhood. I never knew what new pains or miseries would find me, and I always felt like I just wanted to die.”

Paper Star frowned at him, but said nothing.

“I didn’t give in, and I will **never** give in,” he said firmly, “It’s hard, and it sometimes feels pointless, but eventually you can push through it.”

“Why would you want to?” Paper Star demanded, looking away, “Your life has always sucked.”

Otterman couldn’t really deny that. “I suppose it’s because I’m a stubborn asshole,” he responded with a smile, “The harder life gets, the harder I fight back. To me, the good always outweighs the bad.”

“How do you figure?” Paper Star retorted, “Did you forget that you just got disembowelled? How many times have you almost died in your lifetime?”

“Countless,” Otterman admitted, “Life has always been hard for me, and it’s just a fact I’ve accepted.”

Paper Star stared at him long and hard. Someone as weak and pathetic as Otterman should have been miserable, but he still smiled and he still showed compassion for his teammates. Paper Star once again averted her gaze and took a deep breath.

“I am no longer the heiress of the Hinode Empire, and I’m no longer part of V.I.L.E,” she stated slowly, “My whole life I’ve had a purpose, I’ve had something to work towards, but now I have nothing.”

“You first did everything your father wanted and then you did what V.I.L.E wanted,” Otterman said with a concerned frown, “But now it’s your turn to make the life **you** want.”

“I’ve done nothing for my own life,” Paper Star admitted, “Everything is...overwhelming.”

Otterman knew Paper Star had likely never opened up to anyone like this before, and felt like this was a lot of progress.

“Is there anything you’ve ever wanted to do?” Otterman asked.

“I don’t know.”

Otterman pushed up his glasses as he thought, and then he glanced towards the rest of the team. “I have an idea,” he told her, “I’ll be right back.”

Paper Star gave him a questioning look.

“Crackle, I’m going a couple aisles over!” Otterman called over to the others.

“I’ll come!” Moose Boy immediately said.

“No, you stay here, I’ll just be a minute.”

Before Moose Boy or anyone else had a chance to respond, Otterman disappeared down another aisle. Paper Star stood where she was, simply listening to the rest of her team without interest, and just five minutes later Otterman was back with a bag.

“This is for you,” he told her, holding out the bag.

Frowning a bit suspiciously, Paper Star reached out and took the bag from his hands. Reaching inside, she pulled out a hardcovered book.

“A book?” she questioned in confusion.

Otterman shook his head. “It’s a Life Book,” he told her, “Every time you do something for the first time, you write it down inside this book. Anytime you’re feeling down, or feel like you’ve done nothing with your life, you can flip through this book to see all the amazing things you’ve done.”

“This sounds stupid,” Paper Star commented.

“It doesn’t matter what you did or didn’t do in the past, because once you open this book, you’re starting on the first page. Fill the book with all your new experiences as a free woman, and never stop fighting.”

Paper Star looked down at the book. It was black and leatherbound, and she stared at the one word on its cover. _ Imagine _. The letters were written in a rainbow of colours, and she felt an odd emotion rise within her that she didn’t recognize. She opened the cover and stared down at the rainbow paper within, the empty pages almost seeming welcoming.

“I’ve never heard of a Life Book,” she admitted, glancing up at him.

Otterman offered her a sad sort of smile. “Someone I loved a long time ago gave me one and told me the same thing. I was just a kid at the time, but it really helped me dream of a better future. Anytime you’re feeling overwhelmed, angry, or even lonely, think of something new you can try. It can be something little like trying a new food or something big like learning to fly a plane. All new experiences get added to the book.”

Paper Star said nothing for a long moment and then dropped the book back into the bag. “I’ll think about it,” she told him.

Otterman nodded, and then glanced over just as Moose Boy knocked over a display stand, sending the contents crashing to the floor. Otterman let out a heavy sigh.

“Ready to go rejoin our idiotic family?” he asked in amusement.

Paper Star felt a bit better and she offered him the smallest of smiles. “Yes.”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Siren stared at Vess who laid in the next bed over from him. Doctor after doctor had been in to look Vess over, but none could figure out what the problem was. Michael was frantic and upset, and he never once left Vess’ bedside. Every test done came back negative, and it seemed like Vess was simply dying for no reason. He was bleeding from his eyes, ears, and nose, but the reason for the bleed was unknown.

Siren simply watched silently as every doctor in the complex examined and tested Vess. At one point, Vess woke briefly and screamed in agony, his silver eyes reflecting the light eerily, and it was obvious he was blind and not in his right mind. He lost consciousness again a few seconds later, and hadn’t opened his eyes since.

Terry had sat with Siren during all the chaos, but eventually he said he was going home for an hour and would return to the lab to work a double until Vess recovered. Siren was too busy being nosy to really pay him much attention, and he barely noticed when Terry left.

The last doctor who came to examine Vess finally said there was nothing they could do to save him, and that he wouldn’t last much longer. Michael hit the doctor hard enough to break his nose, and then screamed incoherently for a few minutes before sinking down into his chair, going oddly silent. He sat that way for a long time, and eventually they were alone together. The doctors and nurses had left the room to give Michael some privacy, and Siren simply watched the boy as he stared down at Vess with an unreadable expression on his face.

“I think I did this,” Michael finally said, not looking up.

“Oh?” Siren responded without any real interest.

“Numa left a sign on the door saying not to be disturbed during his experiment, but I ignored it. He spilled whatever he was working on, and it caused an explosion. He breathed in some of that gross black smoke, and now **this** happened! I think I did this.”

Siren abruptly sat up, wincing at the agony this caused in his stitches. “What was Numa doing?” he demanded, “Was he working on the Volkov experiment?”

“...I don’t know,” Michael admitted, “He was pouring something into some other chemicals and he must have added too much.”

“...huh,” Siren responded thoughtfully, “Was it Volranium he spilled?”

“Dunno…”

“What colour was it? Did you notice?”

Michael thought back to the moment he burst into the lab and when he saw the liquid slop into the beaker in front of Vess. 

“It was silver,” he responded, “Kind of like liquid metal.”

“Huh,” Siren said again.

He laid back down and rubbed at his sore chest as Michael glanced over at him. 

“Wait a second…” Michael said, jumping to his feet, “You know what did this!”

Siren shrugged indifferently.

“You can help him!”

Siren let out a snort.

“Help him or I’ll kill you!” Michael snarled, brandishing a fist at Siren’s face.

“I’m not a doctor, you nitwit,” Siren snapped, “What exactly do you expect me to do?”

Michael flushed red, and clenched his hands into fists. “I don’t know, **something** ! **Anything**!”

Siren rolled his eyes.

“You...you’re a genius!” Michael said, taking a step forward, “Numa told me that you’re smarter than anyone he’d ever met before, and I know you can cure him!”

Siren raised a brow. “That doesn’t sound very much like Numa,” he said skeptically, “He’s never once given me a compliment in the ten years we’ve worked together.”

“You know the formula that Numa has been working on, and so you know what caused this! You know more than you let on, and you can save him!”

“I don’t remember anything about the Volkov experiments.” Siren informed him, “There’s nothing I can do.”

“LIAR!” Michael snarled, grabbing him by the front of the shirt, “Numa knows that you’re faking your memory loss, or at least to **some** degree, and so I **know** you can help him! You know what he did, I know you do!”

Siren did indeed know exactly what had happened to Vess. When Vess had accidentally added too much Volranium to the base vaccine, it caused an intense temperature increase to the chemicals, causing the Volranium to burn up on contact. The smoke would have exploded into Vess’ face and then inhaled into Vess’ lungs and sinuses, overdosing him on the dangerous chemical. The Volranium was likely pooled somewhere in his lungs or in his nasal passages.

“I can’t help you,” Siren repeated, “I’m not a doctor, and I’m too injured to even get up.”

“You’re a liar, you fucking eunuch!” Michael screamed, shaking him hard, “Help him or I’m going to rip your head off with my bare hands!”

Siren glanced over at Vess who was wheezing in an odd fashion and frowned. With Vess dead, the world would be a better place. Vess had done countless unspeakable evils in the lab, and Siren hated him more than **anything**. He was responsible for every misery in his life, and Siren wanted nothing more than to watch him die. 

Siren stared at Vess’ face that was twisted in pain, and he suddenly felt guilty for feeling that way. He knew the cause of Vess’ illness, and by doing nothing, he would be committing murder. Siren had never killed anyone while in his right mind, and his stomach twisted at the thought of letting someone die, even if they **were** an evil wretch.

“You **do** know what’s wrong with him!” Michael cried out when he saw Siren’s expression.

Siren heaved a deep sigh. Vess needed to die, but was it really going to be by his hand? Without Vess, Siren had no idea what V.l.L.E would do. The only reason he was even still alive was because of Vess’ protection. Vess insisted he was important to the experiment when Dr. Bellum disagreed. Siren had committed treason when he helped Volkov ten years ago, and he knew V.I.L.E would never forgive that. He’d likely be executed and Vess would be replaced with someone new. The new doctor would eventually figure out Volkov’s formula, and the world would be in serious trouble. It didn’t matter if Vess lived or died. Eventually V.I.L.E would succeed.

Siren let out an angry curse. His best chances of survival would be to save Vess. He wasn’t ready or able to flee just yet, and needed more time to figure something out. He needed Vess’ protection for just a bit longer, and then he could get himself and DD out of the lab.

Michael then released him and his face turned to one of complete desperation.

“Please!” Michael said, his tone changing to something a lot more plaintive, “**Please** help him! I’ll do anything you want! I was going to tattle on you that you were giving Patient DD toys and shit, but I won’t say anything. I’ll keep your secrets.”

Siren stared at Michael thoughtfully. Now **this** could be interesting… He knew very well that Michael could never be trusted with anything important, but perhaps he could use him without the boy knowing what he was planning.

“Take me to town,” Siren said.

Michael furrowed his brow. “What?”

“Take me to town, and I’ll help Numa.”

Michael frowned. “Right now?”

“No, you moron, I can barely move right now. Once I'm better, show me around town.”

“...why?”

Siren frowned at him. “Does it matter?”

“Fine, whatever you want, just save him! Please!”

“You will never tell anyone that I left the lab,” Siren said firmly.

“Deal, now save him!”

Siren knew he didn’t have long before Terry returned, and so he glanced over at his IV stand. “Push that over to where I can reach it,” he ordered.

“Why?” Michael demanded.

“Because I’m in a lot of pain and can’t move. I need to numb myself enough so I can get up and walk without falling over.”

Michael pushed the IV stand over, and Siren turned on the morphine. He waited a few seconds and then put it up to level 2. When he was pain-free, he carefully sat up and felt absolutely nothing. Sliding his legs out of the bed, he slowly stood up, and felt a deep pain in his stomach. He moved the morphine up another level and the pain disappeared. He walked the few steps over to Vess’ bed and under Michael’s scrutiny, he lifted Vess’ eyelids so he could take a look. Vess’ irises were a very familiar silver, and Siren was now completely certain of what the problem was.

“Get me a long needle out of the cabinet over there,” Siren ordered, “Disinfectant, and saline as well.”

Michael ran to do as he was told and Siren turned Vess’ head to the side, trying to decide what to do about this situation. He had read multiple medical books over the years and remembered every bit of them, but he wasn’t a doctor and had never done anything like this before.

“I didn’t know which needle so I brought them all,” Michael said, setting down a massive pile on the bedside table, “What are you going to do?”

Siren looked through the pile and picked out a long and extremely thin needle. “I need to extract the Volranium,” he replied.

“Okay,” Michael replied, standing nearby helplessly.

As Siren disinfected his hands, he began to hum to himself. He began opening the sterile package the needle was in, when Michael gave him a hard nudge in the back.

“Stop that!” Michael ordered angrily.

“Hmm? Stop what?” Siren responded in confusion.

“You’re humming your murder song. Stop it.”

Siren raised an eyebrow. “My murder song?”

Michael scowled at him. “Yeah, everytime you go crazy, you sing the same damn song. It’s really fucking creepy.”

Siren went silent. The song he was humming had always been extremely special to him, and he tended to hum it to calm himself down. It was an Italian lullaby that his grandmother used to sing to him when he was little and he’d always loved the tune. Did he really sing it when he was having one of his frequent memory lapses? The song was comforting to him, so did that mean his ‘episodes’ were some sort of defense mechanism? Was his mind trying to protect itself from further trauma?

Siren didn’t have any more time to think about this, because suddenly Vess began to seize and his heart monitor began to go crazy.

“What’s happening?!” Michael cried out.

“I need to get the Volranium out of him right now,” Siren said, crawling up onto the bed to hold Vess down. “Help me hold him still!”

Michael pinned Vess down the best he could, and as Siren held Vess’ head to the side, suddenly he went limp and his heart monitor flatlined.

“SIREN!” Michael wailed out in a panic.

Siren let out a curse but knew he had to focus on the Volranium extraction first. Without a word, Siren did a few mental calculations and then inserted the needle into the corner of one of Vess’ eyes. He then drew the couple drops of silver out of the tear ducts, and did the same to the other one.

“DO SOMETHING!” Michael bellowed out, his voice cracking on the last syllable. 

“I **am**,” Siren said calmly, as he lifted Vess’ eyelids to check the colour.

The eyes were still a bright silver.

“He’s not breathing!” Michael yelled out in desperation. “I think his heart stopped!”

“I know,” Siren snapped, “I need you to hold his head up, I’m going to drain his sinuses. I think there’s a buildup all through him.”

Michael wiped at his eyes, and then held Vess’ head up as Siren grabbed a new syringe. Siren stabbed the needle up Vess’ nose, once on either side and then tilted his head as his sinuses began to drain out his nose in a mixture of blood and silver.

“Okay, now grab me an epinephrine shot and the defibrillator out of the right side cabinet!”

Michael practically leapt across the room and Siren crawled down off the bed and began opening Vess’ shirt. Michael was back within seconds and Siren held out his hand for the adrenaline shot. He then yanked the cap off, stabbed it directly into Vess’ chest without hesitation. He began doing chest compressions with the heels of his hands, and counted out loud as he did so. 

“Zap him!” Michael ordered, “That isn’t working!”

“Just a minute,” Siren responded, “He might not need it.”

Siren counted through the chest compressions, and then felt for a pulse. Feeling nothing, he began another set of compressions as Michael hovered over his shoulder worriedly. A minute passed, and then another with no change.

“Use the fucking deliberator!” Michael snarled, “He’s dying!”

“I said ‘**wait**’,” Siren snapped, “The defibrillator could cause more damage. It’s only used as a last resort.”

“He’s dead!” Michael yelled, “You let him die!”

Siren stopped compressions, and pressed his fingers to Vess’ wrist. He was relieved to feel a pulse and he saw Vess was now lightly breathing on his own.

“No, he’s back,” Siren stated, “Looks like he gets to do evil science another day…”

Michael stared at him in disbelief. “He’s alive?!”

Siren nodded, and then turned Vess’ head to the side so his sinuses could continue to drain. “Okay, now I need to go to Vess’ lab so I can create the reversal otherwise he’s just going to die again. I’ve bought him some time, but not much.”

Siren gave himself one last pump of morphine and then yanked the I.V out of his arm. “I might need your help walking, we need to hurry.”

“But what about Numa?”

“There’s nothing you can do if you stay. You’ll do more good for him if you help me.”

Michael wiped again at his eyes and then nodded. “What do you need me to do?”

“Help me,” Siren ordered, holding out an arm, “I don’t think I can walk that far even with the morphine.”

Michael nodded again and then approached to help him. Siren was expecting Michael to help support his weight so he could walk, but instead Michael scooped him up bridal style and then ran for the door. 

“Well...that works,” Siren admitted.

As they left the infirmary, they passed by Terry who stopped dead in his tracks at the unexpected sight. “What the hell?! Siren?!”

Neither said a word to him, and Michael ran down the hall, like the building was on fire.

Terry stared after them, wondering what the hell happened while he was gone. Letting out a curse, he ran after them, having no idea if Siren was in any danger. He caught up to them just as they reached the lab, and Siren gave him a disinterested glance.

“Oh good, I could use your help,” Siren commented, “I need someone who can actually read.”

“I can read!” Michael snarled.

Siren let out a snort. “Yeah, barely.”

Michael scowled at him and then promptly dropped him. Siren let out a loud curse as he hit the floor, feeling like he’d just ripped a few stitches. Terry was quick to help Siren up who clutched at his stomach in agony, and turned a glare at Michael.

“Do not touch Siren again!” Terry warned, “What the hell are you two up to anyway?!”

“We don’t have time for this, Kevin!” Siren snapped, “Just help me into the lab!”

Terry let out a deep sigh and did as he was told, helping Siren into the lab as Michael followed behind him.

“Bring me over there!” Siren ordered, pointing to Vess’ workstation.

“What are you doing?” Terry demanded, “You’re supposed to be in bed!”

“Saving that asshole's life, **that’s** what I’m doing!” Siren snapped.

“You know what’s wrong with Vess?!” Terry exclaimed in shock.

“Yeah.”

“If you knew what was wrong with him, why didn’t you say anything sooner?!” Terry demanded incredulously.

Siren shrugged. 

Terry let out a deep sigh. “What do you want me to do?”

“Fetch me a notepad and a pen. I need to make some quick calculations.”

Michael grabbed a pad and pen off Vess’ desk and thrust it at him hurriedly. Siren scribbled something down, ripped out the page then held it out towards Terry.

“Get me everything on that list out of Vess’ supply closet. I’m going to figure out the measurements.”

Terry and Michael both ran to the supply closet only to discover it had a keypad on the lock.

“It needs a password!” Terry called over.

“19283746,” Siren replied distractedly, “If that doesn’t work, try 06241998.”

“Hey, that’s my birthday!” Michael exclaimed in surprise.

“Okay, I’m in,” Terry announced a moment later.

Siren worked fast as he figured out the amounts of each chemical he needed and by the time Terry and Michael returned with everything on the list, he was ready to get started. Removing the caps on every bottle, he worked fast and added chemical after chemical to the mixture.

“You aren’t even measuring anything!” Michael accused, as Siren poured something directly into the beaker.

“I am,” Siren replied distractedly, “I’m measuring with my mind. It’s correct, don’t worry. My math is never wrong.”

Only minutes later, Siren was done and picked up the beaker of black liquid.

“Okay, it’s done, now I need to get this to Vess as soon as possible.”

Terry scooped Siren into his arms and then ran for the door, the smaller man clutching the beaker tightly. When they got back to the medical bay, Vess was seizing up again and Siren squirmed out of Terry’s arms and hurried for the bed. Grabbing a nearby syringe, he filled it with barely a drop of the black liquid and then injected into one of Vess’ eyes. Terry visibly flinched, but he said nothing, simply watching and trusting Siren.

Vess stopped seizing, and Siren yanked the needle out of the eye. He then did the same thing to the other eye, and then the nose. Silver continued to drip out of Vess’ eyes and nose, and Siren wiped it away with a cloth as he waited to see of there was a reaction.

“Did it work?” Michael demanded after a few seconds.

Siren shrugged. “I’ve done everything I can. He stopped having seizures which is good, but there’s no telling when he’ll wake up.”

Siren had barely stopped speaking when Vess let out a low groan. Michael was instantly leaning over him.

“Numa?!”

Vess shifted a bit and his brow furrowed.

“Numa?” Michael repeated a bit louder, “Can you hear me?”

Vess took a deep breath, and seemed to be fighting to wake up.

“Numa?”

Vess’ eyes cracked open to mere slits and the first thing he saw was Michael’s face just inches from his own. Vess immediately placed a hand on Michael’s face to push him back a bit, but Michael couldn’t be deterred.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he cried out in complete despair, “I’m so sorry, Numa! I’m sorry!”

Vess was confused, and didn’t remember what had happened. He glanced around and his eyes fell on Siren who stood over him, still holding the syringe. Vess flinched back, and then opened his eyes fully.

Unnatural silver eyes surveyed the room, and he glanced down at himself, observing the hospital gown and blood.

“What happened?” he demanded.

“I’m sorry!” Michael cried, tears in his eyes, “I nearly killed you!”

Vess stared at him in confusion, before his mind finally caught up. “The chemical explosion…”

Michael nodded. “I almost lost you! I’ll never do anything stupid ever again, I swear!”

Vess was in a fair amount of pain, but the sight of Michael so distraught made him feel a fierce protective urge towards him, and he felt pity for the boy, anger not even occurring to him.

“How long was I unconscious?” he demanded.

“Roughly three years,” Siren replied, “It’s January 15th 2025, and you’ve missed a lot. The United States has now elected Mr. T as president, and V.I.L.E now focuses primarily on pyramid schemes. You’ve been demoted to a school nurse at the academy.”

Terry rolled his eyes. “You were out for about six hours,” he answered.

“Everyone said you were going to die, but Siren saved you!” Michael exclaimed.

Vess’ eyes widened. “**Siren** saved my life?!”

Siren held up the needle. “I put this in your eye.”

Vess stared at the very long needle and his eyes widened further. That’s when he realized Siren’s pupils were completely dilated.

“Are you high?!” he demanded in complete horror.

Siren shrugged. “Maybe? I used a lot of morphine in order to be standing right now…”

“Oh my god…” Vess moaned, reaching up a hand to his head, “What did you do to me?!”

“I removed the excess Volranium that had pooled in your sinuses and then created a reversal drug.”

That explained why Vess' nose and eyes hurt so badly, and he winced as he touched his nose.

“You’re welcome,” Siren stated.

“I’m sorry…” Michael said again, “I nearly lost you, and I swear I’ll do everything in my power to protect you for the rest of my life.”

Michael said this with such conviction that Vess offered him a tired smile. Without a word, he pulled Michael down to him and wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug. Michael hugged him back just as tightly, but when Vess kissed Michael, Siren let out a disgusted sound.

“I’m not staying here while you two exchange mouth herpes, I’m going back to my room.”

“No, you’re not!” Terry said firmly, “You’re staying in your hospital bed like you’re supposed to.”

“Just let him go,” Vess said with a roll of the eyes, “He’ll be whining pretty fast once that morphine wears off. Who knows what damage he did to himself.”

Terry frowned in disapproval. “Well, I’m still going with him just in case.”

Vess nodded, and Siren turned towards the door but hesitated when he realized how far he’d have to walk.

“Kevin, you need to earn your paycheque,” he commented, “Help me to my room!”

Terry heaved a sigh, but scooped Siren up without protest. “Siren, you are a spoiled brat,” he muttered to himself as he walked towards the door.

“Wait a second,” Vess called after them.

Terry paused and they both glanced over.

“What?” Siren demanded, instantly bristling defensively. 

“Good job,” Vess said in a light tone, “I’m incredibly impressed.”

Vess’ voice was completely genuine, and Siren’s eyes widened in shock. He was completely speechless for once, and he simply stared at Vess, not sure he’d heard correctly. As Terry carried him from the room, he said absolutely nothing.

Once they were alone, Michael hugged Vess even tighter. “Don’t ever leave me,” he begged, “I couldn’t handle it if you died.”

Vess smiled at him. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Vess considered what life would be like without Michael, and he felt nothing but emptiness at the thought. Michael was the only thing that grounded him to humanity, the only person who could make him feel anything, and he knew he would delve into severe darkness if Michael was no longer by his side. Michael was his empathy, he was his joy, he was his love, and he didn’t want to think about losing him.

Vess tightened his grip on Michael possessively. “You’re mine, and only mine. This won’t happen again.”

  
  


**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Crackle adjusted his hardhat, and critically surveyed the work that was being done. Double Trouble each had a rented mower and were working on getting the grass and weeds cut to a manageable height. The rest of the team were unloading supplies from the back of the van, and Crackle had a really good feeling about this base. He knew it needed a lot of work, but it was in an ideal location, and V.I.L.E would have no idea where they were.

Dash had blocked the coms from being traced, and so far they had ignored every call that came from the head faculty. Crackle would probably eventually answer one of the calls, but for right now he was content to ignore them.

“What are these things in the bags, wombat?” Neal asked, “I didn’t see you buy them.”

Crackle approached and picked one of the bags up, displaying the picture on the side. Neal’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“A tent?”

Crackle nodded. “We’re going to save so much money this way! We can work longer hours, and just be steps away from where we sleep!”

Dash, who had been standing off to one side while pretending to help, was in front of Crackle almost instantly.

“I’m sorry, but did I mishear you? Did you just say we’re going to be sleeping in **tents**?!”

Crackle nodded and pointed to the five bagged tents. “Once the grass has been mowed and raked, we can set the tents up in the backyard. I got us everything we’ll need, and we should have electricity set up sometime tomorrow by the power company. This will save us thousands of dollars which we can then use for the renovations.”

Dash crossed his arms. “Do you honestly think you can ever get me to live in a dirty tent? It’s not going to happen.”

Crackle rolled his eyes. “The tents are new, Dash, and it’s no different than a motel. We have air mattresses and blankets and everything we need.”

“I’m not sleeping out in the wilderness!” Dash snapped.

Crackle had to laugh at that. “Wilderness? We’re in the middle of San Diego! We have like 6 trees on the property!”

“...well, it’s still outside, and there are bugs and animals outside.” Dash said, crossing his arms, “And what am I supposed to do with Steve? She can’t be roughing it in her condition!”

“Camping is fun,” Moose Boy commented, “Sven and I used to go camping all the time when we lived in Sweden!”

“Shut up, Henrik!” Dash snapped, “Nobody asked you!”

“...you’re still mad at me, aren’t you?” Moose Boy asked with a frown.

Dash narrowed his eyes. “What do **you** think?”

Moose Boy stared at him for a long moment. “...I’m going to go check on Sven…”

Dash watched as Moose Boy lumbered off to where Otterman was sitting in the shade, and then rolled his eyes.

“We’re really going to be living in tents?” Neal asked, looking a bit thoughtful.

“We don’t have much to live on and we can’t risk withdrawing funds from our personal accounts. We have to live in the tents until the base is livable.”

“Smores!” Roosevelt called out, pausing what he was doing.

“And campfire hotdogs!” Theodore added.

“Well, the twins are on board!” Crackle pointed out to Dash.

Dash crossed his arms. “No.”

Paper Star was watching everything silently, and then she pulled a book out of her pocket and opened it. “Camping,” she stated, writing it down inside the book, “My first entry.”

“The tents will be fine, I promise,” Crackle assured Dash, “I spent most of my childhood camping in the wilderness, and I can help you get set up.”

“We don’t even have a bathroom here!” Dash snapped.

Without a word, Neal pointed to the Porta Potty.

“Hell no,” Dash responded.

“Until we get the bathroom working, that’s all we have for right now,” Crackle informed him, “You don’t have a choice.”

“I’ll make other arrangements,” Dash said angrily.

“What are you going to do, pee in a bush?” Neal asked with a laugh. 

“Don’t be disgusting,” Dash responded, glancing around.

Dash’s gaze fell on the very nice house next door, and he got an idea. “I’ll make friends with the neighbours.”

Crackle raised a brow skeptically. “You’re going to just walk over to our neighbours and ask to use their bathroom?”

Dash rolled his eyes. “I’d never be so crass,” he replied, “I would chat with them first and make friends, and then just casually mention that we have no bathroom right now.”

“That might work if you weren’t a complete bitch,” Neal pointed out, “Are you even capable of being nice?”

Dash rolled his eyes a second time. “Oh, shut up, Neal. I can be nice when I want to be.”

“Oh?” Neal said skeptically, “Let’s see it then! Go sweet-talk the neighbours!”

Dash gave him a dirty look and then let out a huff. “Fine, I **will**!”

Dash then stormed away from them, and everyone watched as he approached the house next door.

“Neal, you shouldn’t have goaded him,” Crackle scolded, watching as Dash rang the bell, “We need to start getting along better. No more bickering.”

“It got him to stop complaining about the tents, didn’t it?” Neal retorted.

Crackle sighed, and didn’t comment further. They watched as the door was answered, but they couldn’t see who it was that came to the door. Dash spoke with them for a few moments, and to their surprise, he disappeared into the house a few seconds later.

“Huh,” Neal commented, “I guess he **can** be friendly when he wants to be.”

“Apparently so,” Crackle agreed.

“Should one of us go over there to make sure he wasn’t dragged off into a murder basement?”

Crackle frowned. “Give him ten minutes, and then one of us can go check on him.” he said, turning towards the van. “Let’s finish unloading and then get to work on that bathroom.”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Dash rang the doorbell and shot a glare back at his team who were all gawking in his direction. Straightening his tie as he waited, he couldn’t believe that he was going to be forced to live in a tent. He’d gotten used to being spoiled in splendor, and now he was thrown back into the poverty he’d lived through during childhood. Dash hated it, but there was no way he would ever return to V.I.L.E. Things would eventually get better once they began pulling jobs, and he could tolerate being poor for just a while.

The inside door opened and a middle aged woman with blonde hair peered out at him. Dash gave her his most charming smile and she slowly looked him up and down. She took note of the expensive clothes, and nice haircut, and then opened the screen door.

“May I help you?” she asked.

“Hello,” Dash greeted her, holding out a gloved hand to shake, “My name is Dash Haber, and I just purchased the house next door.”

The woman’s nose crinkled in disgust. “The one that’s been condemned for ages? I’ve been petitioning to have it torn down for years.”

Dash gave her a sympathetic nod. “Yes, it’s in terrible shape, isn’t it? It’s going to be fully renovated and will hopefully look as beautiful as the house you have here.”

The woman seemed surprised by this and incredibly pleased. “It’s about time! That terrible house has been depreciating the value of my own home just by **existing**! When are the renovations supposed to start?”

“Today,” Dash replied, “We’re hoping to fix up the yard and get the bathroom in working order before we do anything else.”

“So you’re overseeing the work being done?” 

Dash nodded. “Absolutely. I don’t trust those morons to stay within the perimeters of my designs unless I’m watching their every move.”

“I know exactly what you mean! Last year we hired someone to repair our front step and he used dark grey paint instead of charcoal! It looked terrible and I fired him immediately!”

Dash tsked sympathetically.

“Oh, I apologize for my rudeness!” the woman suddenly said, “I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Karen Robinson and I am head of the neighbourhood H.O.A.”

Dash cocked his head. “H.O.A?”

Karen smiled at him widely. “Why don’t you come in for some tea, and I can tell you all about it?”

Dash glanced back at his team who were still shamelessly watching his every move. “Thank you, tea sounds very nice.”

Karen led him inside the house, and Dash was impressed at how immaculate everything was. Every picture frame was perfectly aligned on the walls, and there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere.

“Cherry wood?” Dash questioned, looking at the red bannisters leading upstairs.

“Good eye,” Karen said proudly, “I had these imported all the way from Japan. The artist only makes five of these a year and hand-carves every one.”

“Nice.”

Dash was led into a living room, and Karen motioned towards the name-brand couch for him to take a seat. Dash did so, and she headed for a doorway to his left.

“Herbal, green, black, or white?” she asked.

“Green is fine,” Dash replied, “Thank you.”

“I’ll be back in just a minute,” she told him, disappearing out of the room.

Dash glanced all around, highly impressed by all the expensive items in her house. His gaze settled on a photograph on the coffee table and saw it was of the woman’s family standing side by side on a large yacht. 

The entire family were blond-haired and blue-eyed, and she and her husband had three children. The twin boys looked to be about twelve years old, and the older sister looked to be around fifteen or so. The girl very obviously had down-syndrome and she was smiling widely at the camera, her arms wrapped around her siblings. The picture seemed to scream ‘rich, white, and bored’ but Dash wholeheartedly approved. Perhaps he’d actually have someone to chat with that had taste?

“Those are my kids,” Karen said as she approached, carrying a tray of tea, “The boys are Preston and Skylar, and my beautiful daughter is Heather.”

“You have a lovely family,” Dash responded, accepting the cup of tea that was held out to him.

“So, Dash, do you know what an H.O.A is?” Karen asked innocently.

“Not really,” Dash admitted.

“The Home Owner’s Association is a neighbourhood membership that helps keep our streets clean and nice to look at. We don’t want anyone painting their house garish colours, or leaving piles of trash in their front yard and the H.O.A prevents that.”

“Oh?”

“We, in this upscale neighbourhood, want everyone to meet the high standards we’ve come to expect. Everyone in this community is part of my H.O.A except for your house. The previous owner refused to sign the contract, and it’s been a blemish ever since.”

“Hmm, interesting,” Dash commented, “So everyone is made to keep their properties neat, tidy, and stylish?”

Karen smiled at him widely. “Exactly! We don’t want the ‘wrong’ sort of people moving in here, if you know what I mean. The H.O.A board, aka me, has to approve anyone who moves here, and we can keep our neighbourhood the way it should be. Since your property is not yet part of the H.O.A, we couldn’t screen the buyer, but it looks like we lucked out and got the right sort of person as a neighbour.”

Dash suddenly got a very bad feeling about what she meant by that. “And who are the **wrong** sort of people’?” he asked, setting his tea down.

Karen gave him a conspiratorial wink. “Oh you know, the type of people who would lower the neighbourhood’s value.”

“No, I **don’t** know,” Dash stated with a frown.

“Well, I’m sure you understand that this is a good Christian neighbourhood, and we can’t have illegals, or those living in sin here.”

Dash’s gaze then fell on the confederate flag that was framed on the wall. He let out a deep sigh. Well, so much for making friends with the neighbours. When he didn’t say anything, Karen then frowned at him and again looked him up and down.

“So...is there a special woman in your life, Dash?” she asked, sounding a bit suspicious.

“No.”

“Do you live alone?” she pried, her brow furrowing.

Suddenly the doorbell rang, and Karen glanced to the door in confusion. 

“Now, who would **that** be?” she wondered out loud.

Karen walked the few feet over to the front door and opened it, revealing Crackle standing there. Karen looked Crackle up and down and when she saw his messy hair and dirty work clothes, she grimaced in disgust.

“May I help you?” she demanded.

Crackle tried to peek over her shoulder. “Is Dash over here?” he asked.

Karen didn’t move, continuing to block his way. “And who are you?” she demanded.

“He’s my husband,” Dash replied from behind her.

As Karen spun to face him, Dash stepped past her and approached Crackle. Without a word, he grabbed him by the front of the jumpsuit and then kissed him passionately. Crackle’s eyes went impossibly wide and then he sputtered in shock as Dash pulled away.

“Goodbye, Karen, it was nice meeting you,” Dash said, leaving the house.

Crackle stood there dumbfounded for a moment, and then quickly turned to follow him as Karen watched them go with a disgusted expression on her face.

“Heathens,” she muttered angrily, “Disgusting heathens!”

As Dash and Crackle headed back towards their base, Crackle gave Dash a confused and concerned look.

“Um...Dash? What was that?”

“I needed to prove a point,” Dash replied, “Sorry.”

“You...you know I’m not-”

“Yes, I know,” Dash replied with a roll of his eyes, “That woman is disgusting and I won’t be going back there.”

Crackle glanced back towards Karen’s house and saw she was still glaring after them. When she saw him looking, she slammed her door closed.

“I don’t know what just happened, but we really need to get back to work. We picked you up some work clothes at the charity shop, and you need to try them on.”

Dash rolled his eyes. “I swear I’m not sleeping in a tent.”

Crackle didn’t respond, knowing that eventually Dash would give in. Once they reached the backyard, Dash gave a thoughtful look towards the house.

“Graham, how do you feel about putting a pride flag in our front window?”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Matryoshka leaned over Plague Doctor’s shoulder as he typed at his computer, and when her breath steamed up the goggles on his mask, he turned to look at her. Although his expression couldn’t be seen, his annoyance was obvious, and Matryoshka rolled her eyes at him. 

[[If you took that mask off once in a while, you wouldn’t have that issue,]] she responded, [[How you even see in that thing is beyond me.]]

Plague Doctor impatiently pushed her away, and Matryoshka shoved him back before taking a seat on the edge of his desk.

[[It’s been days,]] she commented, [[He couldn’t have just disappeared into thin air! **Someone** knows where he is!]]

Plague Doctor shrugged and went back to typing. Matryoshka watched him silently for a while, reading everything he was doing.

[[You’re searching hospitals? I thought you already did that?]]

Plague Doctor impatiently pointed to part of his screen.

[[Oh! You’re looking through all major abdominal operations!]]

He gave a silent nod.

Matryoshka noticed a few of the records stated the patients were now deceased and she tensed up. [[Do you think he died?]] she asked.

Plague Doctor shrugged.

[[I saw you swing, but I didn’t see how deeply you sliced him… It looked pretty bad on the video.”

Plague Doctor gave another shrug without looking away from his screen.

[[There have been whispers from Volkov again, and it’s beginning to concern me. I think they’re planning something. We need to be alert, and watch ourselves carefully.]]

Plague Doctor didn’t seem to care. Matryosha frowned at him, and then let out a curse in Russian.

[[Oh, this is ridiculous!]] she snapped, reaching out to snatch the mask off her brother. [[I can’t even tell if you’re looking at me!]]

Plague Doctor flinched as the mask was yanked off, and then immediately turned to glare at her.

Matryoshka rolled her eyes at him in response. 

[[Deal with it,]] she told him, tossing the mask aside, [[I can’t talk to you if I can’t see you!]]

Plague Doctor’s icy blue eyes narrowed, but then he let out a deep sigh and went back to typing.

[[You’ve been wearing the mask more often,]] Matryoshka pointed out, [[Have you been thinking about that day again?]]

Plague Doctor stopped typing, but didn’t look at her, staring straight at his monitor silently.

[[I know the anniversary of **that** day is approaching, but you can’t hide behind that mask forever. You need to face this issue and speak to me. You haven’t said a single word to me in ages.]]

Plague Doctor went back to typing, but his shoulders were tense, showing he was still listening.

[[You’re my little brother, and you know that you’re important to me. I will always support you in your endeavors, but lately you’ve been taking risks. That V.I.L.E woman’s team lost us a lot of good foot-soldiers and a lot of money. We must put The Void’s needs above our own, and not do anything like that again.]]

Plague Doctor didn’t so much as look at her, and Matryoshka sighed. She watched him work for a while, and when he suddenly sat up straight in his seat, she leaned over to see his screen. 

[[You found him?]] she asked.

Plague Doctor nodded.

[[Ah, I see. They claimed he was in a car accident, and the doctors accepted it,]] she commented, [[Were the hospital cameras active?]]]

Plague Doctor nodded again.

Matryoshka smiled triumphantly at this. If there was anything that Tokyo had, it was surveillance cameras. They’d now be able to follow Team Crackle’s every move through the city and find out where they went. She eagerly watched as Plague Doctor went through video feed after video feed, following Team Crackle after Otterman and Paper Star were discharged from the hospital. 

[[He looks so frail,]] she observed, [[That big ugly man carries him **everywhere**. I hope the damage wasn’t too severe.]]

Plague Doctor digitally followed Team Crackle’s van all the way to the airport and then began checking the flight information of all planes. He quickly found the one he was looking for, and then turned triumphant eyes to his sister.

[[San Diego, California!]] she read out loud, [[We finally know where he is! Did the plane land safely?]]

Plague Doctor typed for a minute and then nodded.

[[I’ll assemble a team right away. We fly in an hour!]]

Matryoshka hurried for the door and then paused, glancing back at Plague Doctor with a pleased smile. [[Good work, Dmitry.]]

Without another word, she disappeared out the door. Plague Doctor watched her leave and then slowly got up and crossed the room to pick up his mask. He pulled it back on, adjusted it slightly, and then went back to work.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**Sorry this chapter was so late, but I promise the next one will be out within two weeks! Not very many chapters left of Broken now. Seven at the least and ten at the most (depending on how carried away I get)**

**A huge thank you to the super-talented artists who did artwork for this chapter!**

**Violetfic did six awesome pics this chapter! She drew all the pictures in the chapter, and coloured five of them herself. **

**Coulrosaurus coloured the Dash/Crackle smooch pic!**

.

**Credit for the names of Otterman and Moose Boy go to Animedemon01**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**

**Please don't forget to let me know what you think! **


	30. Siren's Day Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone!
> 
> I decided to have a chapter showing what was going on with Team Vess instead of just skipping over it like I was originally planning. The entire chapter is just Siren, MJ, and Vess, and next chapter will go back to everyone else.
> 
> There is going to be a timeskip starting next chapter. During the missing time is the Team Crackle base renovations and Carmen's recovery. The renovations fic WILL be written, and I'm going to aim to have it posted within a couple weeks. Next chapter will be time-skipped to October, and the chapter after that will be time-skipped to December. The end of the fic is in February, so not too much left now. ;)
> 
> An enormous thank you to the very awesome Violetfic and Coulrosaurus for offering plenty of good suggestions, and for being my betas! They both seriously offered SO many suggestions for this chapter that they both deserve some recognition! You guys really helped improve this chapter and you're awesome!
> 
> Please note that Dr. Vess and Michael Jr. both use the F-word extremely frequently in their everyday speech. You have been warned. Dr. Vess was created by Violetfic, and I am using him with her permission.
> 
> If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 30**

**Siren’s Day Out**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

“ **No** !” Michael said angrily, “Like hell, Numa!”

Vess let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m perfectly fine now, and there’s no reason for me to waste time in the medical ward.”

“You almost died yesterday!” Michael snarled, “Actually...you  **did** die! If it wasn’t for Siren, you’d be cremated lawn fertilizer by now!”

Vess stared at Michael’s stubborn expression and then let out another sigh. “I’m not sick, and I’m not injured. Lying here will accomplish nothing.”

“Good!” Michael shot back, “Do nothing for a change!”

Vess could feel himself getting annoyed, itching to get back to his experiment. Other than a sore nose and a sore throat, he felt completely fine. Michael was currently seated on his bed, and was refusing to move no matter what Vess said.

“Alright, alright, you win,” Vess told him.

Michael furrowed his brow. “Wait... really?”

Vess nodded. “I’ll take it easy for another day.”

Michael was instantly beaming. “Awesome, we can watch movies and just chill for the whole day!”

“Why don’t you go get us lunch from the cafeteria?” Vess suggested.

Michael hopped off the bed. “Okay, I’ll be right back!”

“Try to buy something healthy for a change!” Vess called after him.

“Okay,” Michael said again, disappearing out of the medical ward.

Vess stared at the closed door for a few seconds and then slowly pulled the blankets aside so he could get up. Standing to his feet, he glanced around until he found his clothes neatly folded on the nearby table. Once he was dressed, he grabbed a few supplies, tossed them into a bag and then headed out the door.

He caught sight of his reflection in the glass of the door and he paused a moment, staring at his oddly coloured silver eyes. He had no idea how long the colour would last, but he knew it was ultimately harmless. Just a simple side-effect of the Volranium.

Vess continued on his way, and he headed for Siren’s room having a feeling the other man was now in need of a doctor. When he opened the door, Terry jerked to attention, gave Vess a curt nod and got out of his seat to make room for him. Vess glanced down at Siren who was still in bed and then he glanced down at his watch with a frown. It was after one and Siren still wasn’t up yet?

“Siren?” Vess demanded in a loud voice.

Siren slowly turned his head and then looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. Oh, he  **was ** awake.

“Numa, everything hurts and I’m dying…” Siren whined.

Vess rolled his eyes. “You used morphine to numb the pain when you were doing too much yesterday,” he replied, “It’s to be expected you’re sore today. Roll over so I can check your stitches.”

“Can’t,” Siren responded, “Dying.”

Vess rolled his eyes again, and then impatiently reached down and rolled Siren onto his back who groaned in complaint. Vess ignored him and then lifted Siren’s shirt, quickly seeing he’d torn several stitches.

“You did more damage to yourself,” Vess informed him, “I have to fix these stitches or you’ll get an infection. One second.”

“You’re going to stitch me up right here?!” Siren protested, “Without anesthetic?!”

“You’ll survive,” Vess said without interest, “Four little stitches and then you’ll be fine.”

“Like hell!” Siren snapped.

Siren was far too sore to even move, and he was actually quite surprised when Vess held out two pills towards him.

“What’s that?”

“Painkillers,” Vess informed him, “It should help numb you and get you back on your feet.”

Siren struggled to move his arm to take the pills but couldn’t seem to do it. His bruised body had seized up, and he grimaced and then gave up. Vess sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered.

Siren did as he was told and Vess shoved the two tablets in his mouth.

“Swallow,” he ordered.

“No shit, Numa,” Siren retorted, “I wasn’t planning on just letting them melt in my mouth.”

Vess didn’t reply and began pulling various items out of his bag. “Terrence, I’m going to need you to hold him down.”

Terry winced in sympathy, knowing how much this was going to hurt. Approaching the bed, he reached over and held Siren down at the shoulders, giving the other man an encouraging look. Vess disinfected the wounds and Siren squealed at the pain, but he couldn’t move.

“Couldn’t you give him a shot of something to freeze him?” Terry demanded.

“Not after all that morphine he took yesterday,” Vess answered as he threaded a needle, “I have no idea how much he took, and I’m not going to risk him going into cardiac arrest.”

“Wait, wait!” Siren protested as Vess began reaching towards him, “I’ll chance the infection! I don’t want the stitches!”

Vess ignored him and began the first stitch. Siren’s reaction was immediate and he screamed and cried and struggled with all his might. Terry easily pinned him down, and Vess expertly repaired the stitches within just a few seconds. When he was done, he tied the stitches off, disinfected the area, and then covered them with bandages. Siren was still sobbing in pain, and Vess rolled his eyes at him.

“Honestly, Siren,” he commented, “Sometimes I really wonder about you.”

“Fuck you, Numa!” Siren retorted, taking a swing at him.

He missed and Vess didn’t seem concerned. Siren wiped at his eyes, and then curled in on himself miserably.

Vess stared down at him for a few moments, and then rolled his eyes at the dramatics.

“Get up, and take a shower,” Vess ordered, “Your bandages are waterproof, and the heat will help your sore muscles.”

“I saved your life yesterday,” Siren commented, giving Vess an angry look.

Vess frowned. “And?”

“Well...you owe me!” Siren challenged.

Vess paused. “Excuse me?”

“I saved your life and so you  **owe** me!”

Vess narrowed his eyes. “Oh? And what is it you want?” he demanded, prepared to deny whatever it was he wanted.

Siren hesitated as he hadn’t actually thought of anything yet. “I want my own laptop.”

Vess raised a brow, not expecting such an insignificant request. “Why?”

“I’m tired of sharing yours, and I want one of my own.”

“You’ve broken at least a dozen laptops,” Vess pointed out.

“I promise I won’t smash this one,” Siren told him, “I’ll be careful with it.”

Vess narrowed his eyes as he considered the request. Siren had been using laptops within the lab for the last ten years, but he had a bad habit of losing his temper and destroying things. Vess had banned him from owning one of his own since last year, and it was obvious Siren was tired of using a borrowed laptop.

“Fine,” Vess agreed, “I’ll give you a laptop, but if you break it you’ll never get another one.  **Ever** .”

“Okay,” Siren said, surprised Vess had given in so easily.

Vess glanced towards Siren’s bathroom and then approached to take a look. Everything was horribly basic, and it was the same sort of accommodations the guards were normally given. Siren had been in the same room ever since he arrived in the lab, and he probably should have been given a better room at some point. 

Digging in his pocket, Vess pulled out his access card and pressed it against the shower’s digital keypad. A menu screen popped up, and he entered his access code. He then went through the shower’s settings thoughtfully. Siren was allowed 20 minutes of hot water per day. Doctors and the lead scientists were normally permitted an hour. An extended shower would help improve his condition, but V.I.L.E was extremely stingy when it came to costs. Vess considered it for a few moments, and then completely removed the restriction. Siren would be allowed as much hot water as he wanted.

Vess now considered his debt paid, and he left the bathroom. Siren gave him a questioning look, but Vess didn’t explain himself.

“You need to get up and get moving or else it will just make things worse. I’ll give you another painkiller at suppertime.”

“I liked the morphine,” Siren commented.

“I don’t doubt it,” Vess replied, “but you’re not getting any more of it. The last thing I need is for you to get a drug addiction on top of everything else.”

Siren let out a groan, feeling like his entire body was bruised. He really doubted a few ibuprofen were going to do the trick.

Vess turned to Terry. “Did the nurse feed him today?”

Terry nodded. “Breakfast and lunch.”

“Did he give her a hard time?”

“He tried to, but he was too sore to fight her off.” Terry explained, “The feeding tube still seems to be causing him discomfort.”

“He’ll be tender around the tube for another week or so.”

“He’s also still experiencing the belly pains every time he’s fed. Are you  **sure** everything is okay?”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here!” Siren snapped, lashing out at Terry’s leg.

Terry and Vess both ignored him.

“It will take time before he gets used to eating full meals again,” Vess explained, “He’s fine,”

“Says you,” Siren grumbled.

“Make sure he gets up and is moving around within the hour,” Vess ordered, packing up his bag, “If you need me, I’ll be in my lab restarting my experiment.”

They watched as Vess left the room, and Siren wiped at his eyes again and glared at the closed door. “Ungrateful ass,” he muttered.

“Come on,” Terry said, reaching towards him, “I’ll help you up.”

“No, leave me to die,” Siren responded, pulling his blankets back over himself.

Terry pulled them off again. “No, if Vess thinks you need to start moving, then that’s what you’re going to do. I’m not going to let you hurt yourself any more than you already have.”

Siren let out a long and irritated groan, and then looked up at him. “Fine.”

Terry very gently reached down and helped Siren to his feet who was grimacing from the pain. 

“Can you walk on your own?” he demanded.

Although Siren’s entire body was stiff and sore, now that he was on his feet, he was able to support himself. 

“Yeah,” he told Terry.

Terry hovered over him just in case, and Siren hobbled across the room to dig out clean clothes out of his dresser. Picking out the loosest and baggiest clothing he owned, he then limped his way towards the bathroom.

“Do you need any help?” Terry asked, worried he’d fall.

Siren flashed him a glare over his shoulder. “I’m sure I can manage,” he snapped.

“I was just worried you’d slip in the shower,” Terry explained, “Your legs are still pretty wobbly.”

Siren said nothing and simply entered the bathroom, closing the door after him. Turning on the shower so the water would warm up, he stripped down and then stared at his reflection in the mirror. His entire body was covered in bruises, stitches and scars, and Siren knew he looked like some sort of monstrous creation. Turning his eyes away from the mirror, he stepped into the water, immediately relaxing under the hot spray.

As was his custom, Siren washed and then just stood there waiting for the water to turn cold. Closing his eyes to enjoy the brief amount of hot water, he waited and then waited some more. Twenty minutes seemed to be taking a lot longer than usual, and after a while he opened his eyes in confusion. Glancing up at the showerhead, the hot water kept coming and coming, and he frowned in confusion. There was then a knock at the door.

“Siren?” Terry called through the door, “Are you alright in there?”

Siren didn’t answer, still staring up at the showerhead.

“You’ve been in there for over an hour,” Terry informed him, “Answer me so that I know you’re alright.”

An hour? He’d been in the shower for an hour? He was only allowed twenty minutes of hot water… Siren’s eyes then widened. Vess! Vess had been fiddling around in his bathroom right before he took his shower.

“Siren?” Terry called into the bathroom, “Please answer me.”

Siren said nothing, still staring at the showerhead thoughtfully.

“Answer or I’m coming in!” Terry warned.

Vess had been in his bathroom for several minutes and this must have been what he was doing.

“I’m coming in!” Terry announced.

Vess had removed the restriction on his hot water. Why would he do that? Vess didn’t do nice things. It had to be a trick. Something wasn’t right. Siren felt an odd confusion suddenly come over him, and he didn’t even notice when Terry turned off the water and wrapped a towel around him.

“Siren?” Terry questioned.

Siren didn’t answer.

Terry looked into his confused eyes, and realized Siren was starting to disassociate. This hadn’t happened in weeks, and Terry had been hoping Siren was improving. Giving the smaller man a pitying look, he gently ushered him out of the tiny bathroom.

“Come on, let’s get you dressed,” he said softly.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Siren remained in a confused state for several hours, but he hadn’t gone violent, instead just clinging to Terry’s arm silently. Terry had remained seated on Siren’s bed the whole time, keeping an eye on the other man and hoping he wouldn’t have to call Vess. When Siren finally snapped out of it, he didn’t seem to remember anything, and he immediately snapped at Terry to get off his bed. Terry had done so without protest, and moved to the nearby chair, ignoring Siren’s rant about personal space. Siren seemed incredibly agitated, more so than usual, and Terry wondered if this was caused by the disassociation.

When suppertime rolled around, Vess came with painkillers and a new laptop. He handed both to Siren, and then changed his bandages without hardly saying a word.

“Er...Dr. Vess?” Terry said a bit hesitantly.

Vess turned silver eyes to him, and Terry couldn’t help but flinch back.

“What?” Vess demanded, “Did something happen?”

Terry shook his head, not wanting to tell him about Siren’s ‘off’ moment. Vess would just further medicate Siren which he doubted would not help the other man in the long run. Siren needed professional help and in order for that, he needed to leave V.I.L.E. He would keep Siren’s secrets, and hopefully the other man would be able to escape soon.

“I just wanted to remind you that I booked tomorrow off,” Terry stated.

Vess furrowed his brow. He had forgotten about that, and he turned his gaze to Siren with a frown. What would he do with Siren while Terry had a day off?

“You’ll need to cancel,” Vess replied, “Due to everything that happened, I didn’t have a chance to find someone to take your shift.”

“Day off?” Siren demanded, “What for?”

“It’s my anniversary,” Terry replied, “My twentieth in fact.”

“Ugh, marriage,” Siren commented, reaching for the laptop, “Disgusting.”

Terry rolled his eyes, and then glanced back to Vess. “I’m not willing to cancel on my wife,” he said firmly, “There are dozens of guards in this building and there must be one who’s capable of babysitting Siren for just one day.”

“I don’t need a fucking Kevin following me around everywhere,” Siren snapped, “This is completely ridiculous and unnecessary. I’m fine on my own.”

Vess didn’t even dignify that with a response. He honestly didn’t trust any of the other guards. He knew Terry would never hurt Siren, but the same couldn’t be said for anyone else. Almost everyone in the lab hated Siren, and the guards were underpaid, bitter, and afraid of him. Vess didn’t want to chance another guard until he was sure he could trust them.

Vess let out a deep and irritated sigh. “I suppose Siren will just have to spend the day with me then.”

Siren pulled a face at that. “I’d rather just spend the day in my room if that’s my only other alternative.”

“No, I’m going to keep you where I can see you,” Vess responded impatiently. “Get ready for work the usual time tomorrow.”

“I’m still hurt!” Siren protested, “I should be taking a few sick days!”

“I don’t care if you work or even if you sleep at your desk all day as long as you’re within my sight,” Vess replied, “I’ll give you a couple painkillers in the morning and you should be fine to walk.”

Siren heaved a sigh but knew there was no point in arguing. The only thing arguing would accomplish would be making Vess angry.

“Fine,” he agreed sullenly.

Vess stared at him with narrowed eyes for a few seconds, but when Siren said nothing more, he accepted the answer, and then turned towards the door.

“Be dressed and ready by eight tomorrow,” Vess stated as he opened the door, “And stop giving the nurse a hard time.”

Siren rolled his eyes and didn’t answer. The moment Vess was gone, Siren ripped into the laptop box and eagerly pulled it out.

“Nice,” Siren commented, “It’s one of the good ones. Vess must have been in a good mood for once.”

The first thing Siren did was reach into his bedside drawer, pull out a small toolset and then began disassembling the laptop.

“What are you doing?” Terry asked.

“Taking out the tracer V.I.L.E puts in all their laptops,” Siren responded, yanking out a tiny microchip, “Don’t need anyone nosing into what I do with this laptop.”

“Can’t they trace what you do through the internet?”

Siren let out a snort. “Maybe if I was a moron. I’m going to be wiping all the software off and starting from scratch. Once I remove the sketchy programs V.I.L.E installed, I can easily fool the internet trace.”

Terry didn’t know much about technology, but he was still concerned. “Just be careful. If you get caught, there’s nothing I can do to protect you.”

Siren didn’t answer, too busy with what he was doing. Terry watched as he reassembled the laptop and then turned it on to begin reprogramming it. 

Terry glanced down at his watch and then over at Siren who was busy typing. “My shift is almost over, and then I’ll have to lock you in your room until Vess lets you out tomorrow,” he stated, “Do you feel alright?”

Siren made a noise which could have been a yes or a no, never once looking away from the screen. Terry watched him for a few minutes, and then suddenly Siren held out the power cord towards him.

“Plug that in for me,” he ordered, still not looking up from the screen.

Terry rolled his eyes at the rude tone and took the cord and plugged it into the nearby outlet without a word. Just before Terry’s shift was over, the nurse knocked on the door and entered with another feeding syringe for Siren. When she saw him sitting up and more active than before, she eyed him warily, and then approached the bed.

Siren didn’t seem to notice her presence and she carefully moved his shirt aside, ready to jump back if he lashed out at her. 

“Stop that,” Siren said distractedly.

The nurse hesitated a moment then injected the syringe into the feeding tube as fast as she could. Siren let out a yelp of surprise and noticeably jumped, and he glanced down at the syringe in outrage. The nurse said nothing and simply fled out of the room before he could have a tantrum.

“Holy hell,” Siren complained, “I really hate that woman.”

“If you hate the feeding tube so much, you should start eating on your own,” Terry pointed out, “Vess only did that because you were starving yourself.”

“It’s not my fault all the food here is disgusting,” Siren retorted.

“The food here is pretty standard for any workplace,” Terry replied, “Why don’t you stick to salads and fruit if you don’t like processed food?”

“I don’t  **like** salads and fruit,” Siren stated.

“Well, then something else.”

“I don’t like food.”

Terry rolled his eyes. “Well, then I don’t know what to tell you,” he replied, getting to his feet and giving a stretch. “I’m off now, and I’ll see you on Saturday after my day off, alright?”

“If I manage to survive Vess’ evil clutches,” Siren said, turning his gaze back to the laptop.

“You survived working with him for the last ten years, and so I’m sure you can manage a day without me.”

Siren made an unhappy sound in the back of his throat, but otherwise didn’t answer. Terry rolled his eyes again, glad that he was going to have a completely Siren-free day tomorrow. He was looking forward to spending the day with his wife and kids and not having to worry about being stabbed at any moment by a mentally ill scientist.

As Terry headed for the door, he paused and then glanced back at Siren. “Don’t take any chances with Vess,” he advised, “He’d kill the both of us if he knew you were planning on running.”

“I’m not stupid, Kevin,” Siren snapped, “Go away, and leave me alone.”

Terry sighed. “You’re such a little shit,” he commented, leaving the room.

Terry locked Siren’s door from the outside, and then turned and headed down the hallway, already in a better mood.

Siren went back to reprogramming the computer, and worked for hours and hours as he made sure the laptop was completely untraceable by V.I.L.E. He finally finished setting everything up the way he wanted at 2am, and fell asleep sitting up with the laptop still on his lap. 

When Vess entered his room at eight a.m sharp, he rolled his eyes at the sight of Siren sleeping in such an awkward position. Reaching down he picked up the laptop and then turned it around so he could see the screen. There was a paused YouTube video about Broadway musicals on the screen, and Vess immediately lost interest. Closing the laptop, he set it aside and he then gave Siren a hard shake.

“Hdfhg.”

“I told you to be ready by eight,” Vess said loudly, “Get up, and get dressed. I need to continue working on my experiment.”

Siren groaned.

“You can sleep at your desk,” Vess informed him, “Now get up.”

Siren cracked open his eyes and then immediately glared up at Vess. He then glanced around until his eyes fell on his laptop. The fact Vess wasn’t angry right now showed that the other man didn’t look too closely at the laptop. Siren felt confident he could now use the laptop to aid in his escape.

“Here,” Vess said, holding out two pills, “Now hurry up and get moving.”

Siren popped the pills into his mouth and dry-swallowed them, and then slowly edged over so he could get up. Running a hand through his messy hair, he gave a very careful stretch and then reached down and picked up his laptop. To Vess’ surprise, he then headed for the door without getting dressed.

“You’re not even going to get cleaned up?” Vess demanded, looking at the baggy sweatpants and stretched out t-shirt the other man was wearing.

“I don’t see why it matters,” Siren responded, “Who do I have to impress?”

Vess let out a deep resigned sigh, and knew it wasn’t worth arguing about it. If Siren wanted to walk around looking like a homeless person, then that was his business. 

As they headed for the lab, Vess’ mind was already on the experiment he’d started the night before. He felt optimistic about this newest attempt, and it was vastly improved over what he had tried with Crackle. Once this batch was complete, he would use a test subject to see how they reacted to it. He had an entire floor of failed experiments, and most of the test subjects were blind, deaf, or complete vegetables. A few had shown potential for a brief window, but the subjects always ended up getting sick or dying. Crackle was the first to survive, and although he wasn’t perfect, it was a step in the right direction.

When they entered the lab, Vess immediately headed for his workstation as Siren went straight to the coffee station.

“Don’t bother me today,” Vess ordered, reaching for a stack of papers, “I don’t care what you do, just leave me alone.”

Siren said nothing and simply filled a large mug with coffee, and then took a seat at his desk, opening his laptop. Yawning tiredly, he opened his desk, grabbed his earbuds and then plugged them in. He opened Itunes which he had spent two hours on last night downloading music from the several dozen cds in his room.

Starting a playlist, he adjusted the volume, and then sang along with the music, ignoring the glower Vess shot his way. Taking a long gulp of coffee, he began testing the security on the V.I.L.E servers, looking for any weaknesses. The security had fifteen layers of encryption, but Siren saw the defenses were incredibly out of date. Hacking was a long and boring process, but Siren knew he had all day to work on it.

He began hacking into the V.I.L.E servers, and wormed his way through layer after layer of security. He wanted to see what sort of things V.I.L.E were up to, knowing it wasn’t anything good. The nurse came by around nine with his breakfast, and Siren kicked and swore at her, but eventually he did allow her to do her job. After he said a few not-so polite words as she left the room, he went back to forcing his way through the security.

When he finally gained access to the servers, he began nosing through file after file, looking for any dirt he could use. He focused on failed missions and he quickly began seeing a pattern.

As he read document after document, one name kept appearing over and over again. Carmen Sandiego. Everywhere he looked there were mentions of this mysterious red girl, of her betrayal, and of her team that were fighting against V.I.L.E. Siren stared at his screen and cocked his head. Interesting… Who was Carmen Sandiego and who did she represent?

The deeper he dug, the more he began discovering about Carmen. He was surprised that a lot of operatives had defected to join her, but he couldn’t seem to find the reason why. Shadowsan. Mime Bomb. El Topo. Le Chèvre. Tigress. Six operatives had been willing to risk their lives by betraying V.I.L.E. 

Siren stared at the pictures of the six operatives, wanting to know what happened. He began digging deeper and then paused. Black Sheep. Carmen Sandiego was Black Sheep. He stared at the picture of a teenage Black Sheep beside the picture of her several years later. The last time he had seen Black Sheep was when she had accidentally shot him with some sort of weapon when he was at the academy. He still remembered the terrified look in her eyes as he screamed in agony from the severe burns, and the way the tears had streamed down her cheeks. He’d blacked out pretty fast after the accident, and he’d never seen her again.

Siren’s recovery had been extremely slow, and extremely painful, but he knew most of that was V.I.L.E’s fault. They were the ones who chose to have a small child in the academy, and they were the ones who chose to leave him with the scars instead of performing skin graft surgery. Even now, ten years later, the scars were still painful, but he had learned to live with it.

Siren glanced back to Carmen’s picture, and then continued his search. Both he and Vess were so engrossed in their own work that when the nurse came to deliver his lunch, it took Siren by surprise and he lashed out at her by reflex, letting out an undignified yelp. The nurse always approached him with caution, and so she jumped back before his fist could make contact.

“SIREN!” Vess yelled from the other side of the lab, “What did I tell you about giving her a hard time?”

“She startled me!” Siren defended, “I didn’t see her coming!”

Vess narrowed his eyes at him, but decided he had better things to do and went back to what he was doing without a further word. The nurse shot Vess a glare for not doing more than that, and then once again approached Siren. Siren watched her with the unfriendliest expression possible, and once she was done injecting him, he batted her away from him. He didn’t actually touch her, but it was enough to cause her to quickly back away from him. 

Siren then went back to what he was doing, too interested in Team Red to take any sort of break. He read about the millions of dollars they were stealing from V.I.L.E and their efforts were seriously starting to weaken the organization. He read about the attempts to thwart Team Red, and saw there was a report that detailed Vess shooting Carmen. She was presumed dead, but it had yet to be confirmed.

Siren then found dozens of files about Crackle and his team.

Siren remembered seeing an Australian operative several months ago at the lab, but he hadn’t put too much thought into it. The man had been cocky and his personality rubbed Siren the wrong way. Siren had snarked at him a bit, and then avoided him as much as possible. 

Siren frowned at what he read. It appeared Vess had been ordered to try the last batch of serum on Crackle, and it seemed to work. Siren scanned the dozens of pages of medical reports, and felt uneasy. Vess was close. He was  **so** close to figuring everything out. 

Siren studied the latest series of reports that were sent from Dr. Bellum just a few days ago and he saw that the serum had caused irreversible damage to Crackle’s mind. The serum wasn’t perfect, but it was the closest Vess had ever gotten. Vess was improving the serum with every experiment, and it wouldn’t be long now. Siren glanced up from his screen and looked over at Vess who was completely focused on what he was doing. He couldn’t let Vess succeed. He never should have saved Vess’ life; he should have let Vess die.

Siren turned his attention to the team that Crackle had been assigned. It was extremely unusual for V.I.L.E to create a team like this, and he was curious about it. To his complete shock he saw that there were reports about the entire team defecting. Another eight operatives defected? That was fourteen operatives in total counting both teams. What was going on in V.I.L.E.? Siren pulled up the Team Crackle profile so he could take a look. Crackle. Dash Haber. Neal the Eel. Paper Star. Otterman. Moose Boy.

Siren froze as his gaze went to the next picture. His breath caught in his throat, and for just a moment it felt like time had slowed to a crawl. Double Trouble. Ten years was a long time, and he’d had little hope of ever seeing their faces again. Siren stared at the pictures of his brothers, and felt tears come to his eyes. They were alive. Somehow they had beaten the odds and lived to be in their thirties. V.I.L.E hadn’t killed them, and they had graduated from the academy to become operatives. Reaching out a hand towards his screen, he stared at the scarred and older versions of his brothers, feeling completely overwhelmed. They were alive. He still had a family out there somewhere. 

Siren stared at the pictures and felt a lump form in his throat. Where were they now? Were they happy? What happened after he was kidnapped? Why didn’t they come to rescue him? Did they let him be taken? Did they even care? Did they even miss him? 

Siren closed the laptop as his vision blurred, and then simply sat there sobbing into his hands.

His brothers were alive and that’s all that mattered. He finally had something to look forward to in his life. He would find them, and he would have his family back.

“What the hell is your problem?” Vess demanded, glancing up at him, “What happened? Did you rip your stitches?”

Siren couldn’t even answer him, too overwhelmed to do anything. A few seconds later, Vess was beside him checking his stitches, and making sure he wasn’t feverish. When everything looked fine, he gave Siren an impatient look.

“What is it?” he demanded, “Why are you like this?”

Siren knew he couldn’t tell Vess the real reason he was so upset and so he said the first thing that came to mind. “Every single dog in all eight Beethoven movies are dead now.”

Vess’ face went through several emotions, and then finally settled on exasperation. “Honestly, Siren, you are an absolute pest. I need to do a better job of medicating you. After this experiment, I’m going to start you on a new drug plan. Hopefully then we’ll start to even out these emotional outbursts.”

Siren responded with something not very polite, and Vess didn’t dignify him with an answer. As Vess returned to his desk, Siren struggled to get himself under control, knowing Vess would become suspicious if he remained upset for too long. Wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, Siren knew he would have to resume his research on his brothers in private. 

Vess glanced up at him, rolled his eyes, and then went back to work without comment. Siren would calm down and work on a different part of his escape plan instead. He still needed to know where he was, and what the nearby town was like. If he could just get away from Vess for a few hours, he could sneak out of the lab to memorize everything he could about the town. Siren had no access to a vehicle, and he was nervous about venturing out by himself. 

“Where’s MJ?” Siren asked.

“Probably still in bed,” Vess replied disapprovingly.

Siren glanced at the time and saw it was now after two. “It’s past two,” he pointed out.

“Michael decided to take it upon himself to drink an entire bottle of wine by himself on an empty stomach at 3am.” Vess replied with an annoyed expression on his face, “He deserves whatever hangover he wakes up with.”

Siren knew that this would be the perfect day to get Michael to take him into town. Terry was off for the entire day, and so he wouldn’t get the blame for letting him ‘escape’ if Vess realized he was gone. Vess would only have himself to blame for losing track of him. The only thing Siren needed to do was convince Michael to get up and go to town with him.

Standing up from his desk, Siren took a few steps towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Vess demanded, “You're staying here until I’m done working.”

“I have to pee,” Siren informed him.

“If you’re not back in five minutes, I’m sending someone to find you,” Vess warned.

Siren rolled his eyes, knowing very well Vess would get distracted with work the second he left. Siren was still incredibly sore, but it was a lot more tolerable than the day before, and he knew he’d have no problem walking around town. When Siren reached Vess and Michael’s apartment, he tried the door but found it locked. Ringing the doorbell, he waited for a few seconds and then rang it again. When Michael still didn’t answer the door, he then began ringing the doorbell repeatedly, knowing how loud and annoying it would be.

After five minutes of non-stop ringing, finally the door was finally thrown open by a frothing angry Michael wearing nothing but his boxers.

“Ring that fucking bell again and I will gouge out your eyes with my fingernails!” he snarled.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Siren said innocently, “Get dressed, you’re taking me to town.”

Michael stared at him for a few seconds in silence, and then slammed the door in his face. Siren immediately rang the doorbell again. Michael threw the door open again, grabbed him by the front of the shirt and then raised a fist like he was going to hit him.

“If you drink a bit more, your hangover will go away,” Siren said, covering his face just in case he was hit.

Michael paused. “...really?”

Siren nodded.

Michael’s fist still hung in the air threateningly. “That seems like a lie.”

“No, no, it’s true!” Siren insisted, “Drink a bit and your headache will completely go away!”

Michael released him. “I drank the only liquor I had.”

“Well, didn’t you say there was a bar in town?” Siren commented, “We can go to town, get a few drinks and then explore a bit.”

Michael stared down at him and then ran a hand through his hair to straighten it. “Does it have to be right this second?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You promised if I saved Numa’s life you’d do this for me,” Siren pointed out, “Are you going to go back on your word?”

Michael sneered at him and then slammed the door in his face for a second time. When Siren rang the doorbell again, Michael opened the door and then yanked him inside.

“Fine,” Michael snapped, “But you have to wait while I get ready. If I take you to town, you’re paying for my drinks and I have the right to pretend I don’t know you if anyone sees us together.”

Siren rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

“You’re lucky I need paint,” Michael muttered, rubbing his aching head.

Siren raised a brow in question. “What do you need paint for?”

Michael turned a glare towards him. “Mind your own business, eunuch!”

Siren rolled his eyes and said nothing more.

“Sit on the couch and don’t touch any of my shit,” Michael ordered, heading for his bedroom.

The second he was gone, Siren glanced around and saw the apartment was as spotless as always. Michael didn’t seem the sort to do household chores and so that meant Vess either cleaned up after working all day or Vess was using a private maid. Siren then furrowed his brow as a thought occurred to him. He’d been smashing and throwing things all over his room for years but yet it was always tidied up the next time he returned. He’d never seen anyone go in his room, but they must. He always had clean clothes and fresh towels, but he’d never really thought about it before. Did the cleaner purposely wait until Siren was away and then sneak in to do some cleaning?

Siren valued his privacy and this bothered him on a very deep level. Had this person nosed through all his belongings? They’d never tattled to Vess about all the contraband he had hidden in his room, and so he doubted they worked for Vess. Remembering how he and Braxton had pretty much destroyed Vess’ apartment, he knew it would have been an incredible amount of work. He was surprised there had never been a complaint against him for the hundreds of times he’d smashed things.

Siren took a seat on the couch and when he heard Michael turn on the shower, he realized this was going to be a while. Grabbing the ps4 controller, he turned on the tv and then waited as it powered on. He played for about half an hour as he waited, and then the door suddenly opened. Siren looked up and saw Vess enter the apartment looking incredibly pissed off.

“Michael?” he called out, “Are you awake yet? Siren’s gone missing.”

“I’m right here,” Siren informed him, causing Vess to jump in surprise.

Turning around, Vess stared at Siren who had made himself at home on his couch and then his eyes narrowed furiously. “What the hell are you doing in my apartment?” he demanded.

“Michael let me in,” Siren replied.

“Michael let you in?” Vess repeated, tone skeptical.

When Siren nodded, Vess glanced around but Michael was nowhere to be seen.

“Michael?” Vess called out.

“What?” Michael responded, entering the room while drying his hair with a towel.

“Did you let Siren in?” Vess demanded.

“He invited me to play his ps4 with him,” Siren answered, not trusting Michael to answer.

“Er...yeah,” Michael agreed, “I figured I’d give you a break from his horribleness for a few hours.”

Vess was immediately suspicious. “I didn’t authorize this, and neither of you even bothered to mention it to me! I had to stop working to search for him!”

Siren shrugged. “Sorry.”

Vess let out a deep sigh. It was incredibly tempting to get a bit of quiet in the lab, but he didn’t especially trust Siren at the moment. He was still injured though and probably not much of a threat to Michael physically even if he disassociated. Vess looked from Siren to Michael and then back again. 

“Siren is not to leave that couch for any reason unless you’re escorting him,” Vess ordered, “If he seems sick or in any way off, you’re to call me immediately.”

Michael rolled his eyes, and then continued drying his hair. Vess yanked the towel away from him.

“Tell me you understand,” Vess ordered.

“Yes, Numa, the little shit-stain will be perfectly fine,” Michael answered, “Did you see the lunch I made you in the fridge?”

“The one you made when you were blackout drunk?” Vess asked, raising a brow, “I’m surprised you can even remember that.”

“Yeah, I made it just for you!” Michael told him, “It has all ten food groups!”

“Ten food groups…” Vess repeated, “Michael there aren’t…”

Vess trailed off, figuring it wasn’t worth it. Vess had seen the abomination in the fridge that morning, and he had no idea what it was supposed to be. It looked like Michael had stirred sugary breakfast cereal in with hamburger, pasta and several whole vegetables, and he had quietly disposed of it before leaving for work.

“I’ll be working until eight or so,” Vess told him, “Don’t let Siren leave this apartment.”

“I have to finish my hair,” Michael said, rolling his eyes again and heading back for the bathroom, “See you later, Numa.”

Vess turned his gaze to Siren who was busy pretending to be engrossed in the game. “Stay with Michael,” he ordered.

“Fuck off, Numa,” Siren replied, not taking his eyes from the screen.

Vess knew Siren and Michael had never had an issue before when they gamed together and had no reason to suspect today would be any different.

“I’ll inform the nurse you’re here, so don’t give her a hard time.”

“How long are you going to keep this tube in me?” Siren demanded.

“Until you prove you can be trusted to eat three meals a day,” Vess replied indifferently.

“How many meals do  **you** eat a day?” Siren challenged. 

“Three,” Vess replied, raising a brow.

“...oh.”

“If Michael gets tired of having you around, don’t give him a hard time about it,” Vess instructed, heading for the door.

“Yeah, yeah,” Siren answered, going back to his game.

The second Vess was gone, Siren tossed the controller aside and then hurried to find Michael. Michael was standing in front of the bathroom mirror putting gel in his hair, and when he saw Siren standing in the doorway, he shot him a scowl.

“I’m not ready yet!”

“Numa is gone, and so we should get to town and back as soon as possible.”

Michael turned around and then slowly looked Siren up and down. “You’re going to stick out in town like the weirdo you are,” he pointed out, “The town is where all the guards live and they’ll recognize you in a second.”

Siren hadn’t thought of that and glanced down at himself. “Well, then I’ll disguise myself.”

Michael let out a snort. “As what, one of Santa’s dwarves? You’re like three feet tall.”

Siren crossed his arms defensively. “Actually, I’m five foot two, and for your information, Santa has ELVES, not dwarves.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Same difference.”

“The Elves and Dwarves from Lord of the Rings would have something to say about that,” Siren commented.

“Oh my god, you’re such a nerd!” Michael complained, “I bet you speak that nerd language from that space show too!”

Siren raised a brow. “Klingon from Star Trek?” he guessed.

“Maybe?”

“ _ Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam _ ,” Siren replied, turning to walk away.

“Oh my god…” Michael moaned, “I want to beat you up  **so** bad!”

Siren said nothing, and simply stood out in the hallway to wait for Michael to finish. When Michael came out a few minutes later, he was dressed like he was going clubbing, and he grimaced at the sight of Siren.

“Why do you look like that?” he demanded, “You look like someone who sleeps under a bridge.”

Siren wanted to say something really mean, but he bit his tongue knowing he had to play nice if he wanted Michael to take him to town.

“What if I dress as a Kevin?” Siren suggested.

“As a what? Oh right, the guards. You’d have to pretend to be a female guard since you’re so tiny.”

Siren knew where the spare guard uniforms were kept, and he motioned for Michael to follow him. They stepped out of the apartment, and to Siren’s shock, Michael strode up to the nearby guard walking up the hall, and then shoved him to the ground. He then yanked the helmet from his head and began bashing the man’s head against the floor before he had a chance to react. Siren simply watched in complete shock, and when the guard went limp, Michael glanced around to make sure no one saw and then dragged the guard into the apartment. 

“There, now take his uniform,” Michael ordered, “I’ll find something to tie him up with.”

As Michael walked off, Siren knelt down next to the guard and rolled him over. The man was still breathing and so Siren knew he’d likely be alright. He quickly stripped the man’s uniform off, and knew it was going to be way too big on him. Michael returned with several bungee cords, and as the man was tied up, Siren put the uniform on, rolling up the sleeves and tucking the pantlegs into the boots. Tightening the belt to keep the pants up, he then put on the thick coat and zipped it all the way up. Lastly, he put on the helmet and tucked his hair up out of sight.

Michael glanced up at him and frowned. “Yeah, that should work,” he commented, “People will just assume you’re a woman.”

“These clothes smell like B.O,” Siren complained.

“You’re just not used to manly scents since you’re such a puss,” Michael retorted, standing up, “Are you ready to go?”

Siren nodded. “If I’m paying for the drinks, I’ll need to grab my V.I.L.E card out of my bedroom. I’ve never used it, so hopefully it still works.”

Michael nodded. “Okay, we’ll stop at your room, and then go out the South exit and take one of the vans.”

Siren gave another nod as Michael began explaining how he had special permission to take any of the vehicles on the South side of the building. Siren took a long and deep breath, feeling anxious and a little bit afraid. He was leaving the lab for the first time in ten years, and he had no idea what was out there. Pushing aside his nervousness, he followed along behind Michael, ignoring everything he blathered about.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The moment they stepped outside, the cold hit them like a slap in the face, and Siren was immediately tempted to just go back inside. He’d never been good with the cold, and he began to shiver as he followed Michael across the parking lot. Michael was visibly shivering and he muttered to himself angrily about the weather. Siren glanced all around and saw the lab was surrounded by a concrete wall that must have been at least fifty feet tall. It seemed V.I.L.E had learned from the Volkov attack and ensured there would be no more surprise attacks. 

Michael led him over to one of the several dozen black vans, and then began digging through his pocket. He pulled out his V.I.L.E card, laid it against the keypad of the van, and the doors immediately clicked open. Siren had never seen anything like this before and was fascinated.

“Get in,” Michael ordered, “I’m driving.”

Siren got in the passenger’s side, and then watched as Michael inserted his card into a slot beside the steering wheel and the van started. Thankfully the heat began blasting into the van, and Siren relaxed, the cold a bit more bearable now. He put on his seatbelt, feeling incredibly nervous about leaving the lab, and he watched as Michael fiddled with the mirrors. Just a few seconds with the intense heaters melted the ice on the windshield, and Michael put on his seatbelt.

“Can you drive?” Michael asked him curiously, putting the van into gear.

Siren shook his head. “No. They tried to teach me at the academy, but I panicked and ended up running over someone.”

Michael snorted in amusement. “Did you kill them?”

“No, it was just Coach Brunt and it did more damage to the car than to her. She would never let me behind the wheel of any vehicle after that.”

“I’m surprised you could see over the steering wheel,” Michael responded.

“I’m surprised you passed the written examination,” Siren retorted.

“Fuck you, I did good on that!” Michael snapped, “I got a 75!”

“The pass is 80,” Siren informed him.

Michael glanced over at him. “You serious?”

Siren nodded.

Michael frowned thoughtfully. “Huh... My father must have made them pass me… He was always doing shit like that. I’d get 90’s on tests I didn’t even do.”

“I thought you dropped out of school?” Siren asked as the van slowly pulled out of the parking spot.

“I did,” Michael confirmed, “School was just bullshit and I dropped out after 8th grade. It was pointless considering my father already had my entire life planned out for me. From the second I was born, he decided I was going to work for him.”

There was a deep bitterness to Michael’s words, and Siren knew better than to make a comment. Siren turned his gaze out the window and watched as they approached a massive gate guarded by four armed men.

“Dammit, why is security doubled today?” Michael wondered, “Normally there’s only two!”

“Erm, Michael?” Siren questioned, “Are you sure you can get us through there?”

“Just stay quiet and let me handle it,” Michael responded.

Michael slowed down to a stop in front of the gate and then rolled down his window. When the guard saw who it was driving, his exasperation was evident as he approached.

“Business?” he demanded.

“Fucking your wife,” Michael responded, “Is she home today?”

The guard let out a sigh, and then glanced over at Siren. He seemed to be surprised to see anyone with Michael and he leaned through the window.

“And who is this?” he asked, “Lisa, is that you?”

Michael shoved the man’s head out of the car. “Mind your own business, rent-a-cop! Just open the damn gate!”

“Some sort of important shipment is arriving this week for Dr. Vess and he asked security to be doubled. I need to verify the identity of each and every person coming and going out of the complex.”

“I have special permission to come and go anytime I want!” Michael snapped, “It’s cold and I want to roll my window up!”

“You’ll be through in just a moment,” the guard assured him, “Who’s with you? I need to make note of it.”

Michael let out an angry sigh. “Fine, yes, it’s Lisa, now open the damn gate.”

“Why is Lisa with you?” the guard asked in confusion.

“None of your business!”

The guard leaned back through the window. “Are you okay, Lisa?” he asked.

Siren nodded silently.

The guard hesitated. “Are you two dating?”

Michael let out an instant squawk of outrage. “Ew, of course not! Don’t be so disgusting! I’m dating Dr. Vess! Lisa is just getting a ride into town with me. I don’t even know this bitch!”

The guard relaxed and gave a nod. Turning to the other guards, he gave a thumb’s up and they began opening the gate. He then turned back around and leaned in the window again.

“Um...Lisa, I was just wondering if maybe you’d like to come over tonight and watch the hockey game with me? I know you’ve turned me down a few times before, but this is going to be  **real** casual with just a bunch of friends. We’re going to have snacks and just enjoy the game. I  **swear** I won’t be creepy this time!”

Siren said nothing.

“How about it?” the guard asked hopefully, “Will you come over?”

Siren flashed the guard both middle fingers, and as Michael pulled away, the guard let out a disappointed sigh.

“Did she flip you off again?” another guard called over.

“Yeah...”

They didn’t hear the rest of the conversation as they pulled through the gate onto the road beyond. Michael rolled his window back up, and Siren let out a breath of relief.

“So how far is the town?” Siren asked.

“Uhhh, like ten kilometers or so...I think. All I know is it’s this way.”

Siren rolled his eyes and simply looked out at the scenery silently. The landscape was completely flat and it was ice and snow as far as he could see. There were several V.I.L.E signal towers in the distance, but other than that, it was pretty barren. Hoping they wouldn’t break down, Siren glanced at the gas gauge and saw there was only a quarter tank of gas left.

“Fill up that tank once we get to town,” Siren ordered, “I’m not breaking down and freezing to death with  **you** of all people.”

“Why should I pay for gas?” Michael shot back, “It’s V.I.L.E’s car!”

Siren gave him a look of disbelief. “Seriously? Put gas in the damn car!”

“In about two seconds you’re going to be walking!” Michael threatened, “Don’t tell me what to do!”

Siren went quiet and made a mental note to check the gas gauge before getting back in the car on the way back. The town came within sight just a few minutes later and it was a lot bigger than Siren had anticipated. It was almost like a real town, and he could see about a hundred houses, and dozens of businesses.

“All of this is V.I.L.E owned?” Siren questioned in disbelief.

“Yeah, everyone who lives in the town either work at the lab or are the wives/husbands of those who do.” Michael responded, “Absolutely everyone is V.I.L.E.”

“What about the kids?” Siren asked with a frown.

“They attend some sort of early V.I.L.E academy that prepares them for the real academy when they’re eighteen. I think it’s a real school that teaches reading, writing and other shit, but like...more evil. The parents don’t know this of course since most of them are just guards and their spouses. V.I.L.E is hoping to get superior recruits this way.”

Siren felt completely disgusted. “Did Vess do this?” he demanded.

“Naw, this was all Professor Maelstrom,” Michael responded, “He designed the school to corrupt the morals of the children and steer them towards a life of crime. It’s hilariously messed up.”

Siren went silent realizing that V.I.L.E truly  **was** trying to create an army. Maelstrom was corrupting the schools and Vess was creating child soldiers. The world was going to become a horrible and scary place very soon, and Siren once again regretted saving Vess’ life. He’d saved him for purely selfish reasons, but now he wasn’t sure it was worth it.

“My head is killing me, so we’re going to the bar first,” Michael informed him, “I’m craving a nice whiskey.”

“Isn’t that an old man drink?” Siren demanded.

“What? No! Whiskey is awesome, and don’t you dare badmouth it.”

Siren rolled his eyes and simply turned his attention back out the window.

“It’s snowing,” Siren commented wistfully, watching as the flurries swirled around the air.

“Yeah, Numa said something about a storm coming this way so we can’t stay long.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” Siren responded, “We need to get back before he notices we’re gone.”

Michael pulled into a parking lot and Siren stared at the bar with a frown.

“The Greasy Anus,” he read outloud, “Real high class establishment you chose, MJ.”

“This place is awesome,” Michael responded, “No one cares if I smoke weed inside and their music is kick-ass.”

Michael yanked his V.I.L.E card out of the ignition slot and the van powered down. “Come on,” he ordered, opening the door.

The air was even more bitter than just a few minutes before, and Siren quickly headed for the bar, just wanting to get inside out of the cold. The second he stepped inside, he was hit with cigarette smoke and loud rap music, and he grimaced. The bar was seedy and the people inside looked sketchy even by V.I.L.E’s standards.

“Michael, are you  **sure** -”

“Shh,” Michael interrupted, “Don’t act like a weirdo in here.”

Siren followed behind Michael, not liking the atmosphere at all, and he just wanted to leave. They approached the bartender who rolled her eyes at the sight of Michael and she crossed her arms.

“I permanently banned you from this bar,” she stated, looking ready for a fight.

Michael waved her off dismissively. “That was last week, and now I know better than to drink Juggernaut.”

“You pissed on the pool table.”

“And I said I was sorry, didn’t I?”

“No, actually you didn’t.”

“Well, you billed me for the table so that’s pretty much the same thing, isn’t it?”

The bartender let out a long and deep sigh, and then glanced to Siren. “No helmets allowed in the bar. If you want to be served, you need to take it off.”

Siren didn’t reply and Michael quickly stepped in front of him. “Just give us two Crown Vile whiskies on the rocks.”

The bartender was now suspicious. “Why won’t you remove your helmet?” she demanded.

Siren glanced towards the door, having a feeling this was not going to end well.

“Are you someone I’ve banned from my bar?” she snapped, “Lisa, is that you? You know you’re not allowed in here anymore!”

Siren had no idea who this Lisa woman was, but clearly she was infamous among the dregs of V.I.L.E. 

“None of your business who it is!” Michael retorted, “Just serve us!”

The bartender stared at Siren with narrowed eyes. “Take off that helmet or you two get nothing and I hit the alert button.”

Michael glanced over at the large red alert button on the wall and he knew from experience that the second it was pressed, every guard in the area would swarm the bar. Michael let out a curse, knowing they were stuck.

“Take off the helmet,” Michael told Siren.

Siren shook his head silently.

“You are not jeopardising my whiskey!” Michael informed him, “Take off the damn helmet!”

Siren shook his head again, suddenly feeling like his life was in danger. Michael stared at him angrily for a moment and then reached out and yanked the helmet off him. Siren froze and then stared at the bartender and she seemed surprised.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, “I thought you were a woman!”

There was no recognition in her eyes, and Siren let out a breath of relief and relaxed. The bartender studied his face and then frowned.

“How old are you?” she demanded, “You don’t look any older than seventeen or eighteen.”

“I’m twenty-eight,” Siren replied.

“I’m going to need to see some I.D,” the bartender replied skeptically, “V.I.L.E doesn’t allow liquor for anyone under twenty-five. It’s a senior operative benefit.”

Siren’s gaze shifted to Michael who he knew was only twenty-two. Michael brandished a V.I.L.E I.D card which had his age as three years older. Siren didn’t have an I.D card, and the only thing he had brought was his V.I.L.E debit card.

“I.D?” the bartender repeated, holding out her hand.

“...I don’t have one.”

The bartender rolled her eyes. “Look, kid, just because my bar is absolute shit doesn’t mean I’m going to be breaking V.I.L.E rules. You’d better stick to soda.”

“Okay,” Siren responded, hating the fact he looked so young, “Pepsi, I guess…”

When Siren had been in highschool he’d looked about twelve years old, and he  **still** had a babyface. It was embarrassing that at twenty-eight years old, he still couldn’t order a drink without being I.D’ed.

Michael looked incredibly smug as he was served his whiskey, and Siren watched as the bartender dispensed soda into a tall glass. Siren wouldn’t have wanted the whiskey anyway, but it was the principle of the matter. Unwrapping a straw, he stuck it into his glass.

“That will be 3 V.I.L.E bucks,” the bartender informed them, holding out her hand.

“The nerd is paying for all drinks today,” Michael informed her.

Siren handed over his card and she tapped it against her terminal to pay for the drinks. Her eyes widened when she saw how much was in his account and she turned to stare at him in surprise. Who  **was ** this? Was he the son of one of the V.I.L.E heads? Why did he have over twenty million dollars in his bank account? Was the card stolen? Was he even authorized to use it?

Siren took a sip of his soda and then immediately spit it back into the cup and gagged. 

“Ugh, this is coke!” he snapped angrily, “I asked for  **Pepsi** !”

“That’s all I have,” the bartender replied, handing his V.I.L.E card back.

Siren shoved the glass away from him and then glanced over at Michael who was now on his second whiskey. 

“Okay, you had a drink, now let’s get going,” Siren said, glancing towards the door.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Michael responded, “I’m going to sit here and enjoy my drinks, and then I’m going to the art store.”

Siren frowned at him. “We don’t have time to do both!”

Michael didn’t seem concerned. “Then you go look around town and I’ll stay here. I’ll get good and drunk, and you can go do whatever it is you’re here to do.”

Siren let out an exasperated sigh, but he knew it was probably better if Michael wasn’t there to watch his every move.

“Fine, I’ll be back in like an hour or maybe two at the most,” Siren said, standing up, “Don’t leave me here.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to leave you behind, nerd. Don’t get lost and freeze to death or Numa will be pissed at me.”

Siren put the helmet back on, and then turned towards the door. Glad to be leaving the sketchy bar, he stepped back out into the bitter cold and saw that it was now fully snowing. He’d have to make this quick or the driving would get bad pretty fast. Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat, he began walking through the streets, memorizing the buildings and layout as he passed. Shivering from the cold, he knew he couldn’t stay out for long and needed to see the entire town as fast as possible. 

Siren’s gaze fell on a tall tower in the middle of town, and wondered what it was. Knowing it would be a good vantage point, he headed for it, hoping he would be allowed inside. The tower appeared to be an air traffic control tower for the nearby landing strip, and he entered, just wanting to get out of the cold.

“Afternoon!” a guard greeted him in the lobby, “Chilly day outside, isn’t it?”

Siren didn’t answer and instead headed straight for the elevator.

“God you’re such an ass, Lisa,” the man muttered, “It wouldn’t kill you to say ‘hello’.”

Siren said nothing and simply got on the elevator and hit the top floor button. As the elevator went up floor after floor, Siren hoped no one would question why he was here. Humming along with the elevator music, he rubbed his hands together in an attempt to warm them up, hoping he wouldn’t have to spend too long outside after this.

The elevator dinged and opened to the top floor and he was met with the sight of two guards seated at a control panel. They glanced over at him and then immediately waved.

“Oh, hey Lisa!” one of them greeted, “I didn’t know you were working here today. Are you on patrol duty?”

Siren nodded and then approached the glass walls so he could peer out. Like predicted, he could now see the entire town, and he quickly memorized everything.

“It’s been a really quiet day,” one of the guard’s informed him, “The storm is keeping most people inside. We had a bit of an issue with a plane trying to land a few minutes ago, and it had to be redirected to the next town over.”

Siren stared at the snow outside, seeing that it was coming down even thicker than before. Turning his attention to the console the two guards sat at, he studied the maps and information on the screens seeing that they were 400 kilometers from the nearest town. Planes were obviously closely monitored and so that meant the only way to escape would be by car. He’d have to get a massive head start if he had to drive that far.

Siren didn’t like the idea of trying to drive, but he really saw no other choice. There were no trains, no buses, and flying wasn’t an option. He’d have to leave in the dead of night and hope he didn’t crash when he stole a car. He’d have to find a way past the main gate, and also steal someone’s V.I.L.E I.D card to operate the car with. Whoever Lisa was, she must be short and very slender like he was, and so perhaps he could pretend to be her when the time came?

“When does your shift end?” one of the guard’s asked him, “You wanna grab a few drinks?”

Siren turned to walk away and the other guard shoved his partner. “Stop hitting on her. She gets hit on all the time and she doesn’t like it!”

“Oh...I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry, Lisa!”

Siren said nothing and entered the elevator, knowing he had to get back to the bar before the storm got any worse. As the elevator descended, he once again hummed along with the music, feeling a bit better about his escape plans. At least he now had an idea of what he had to work towards. Now that he had his own laptop, he could try to reach out to Volkov to see if they would be willing to help him. He had no idea if Volkov even still existed, and knew he still had a lot of research ahead of him.

Siren was shivering within seconds of being outside, and he hurried in the direction of the bar, the wind really starting to pick up. As he walked down the sidewalk, his gaze fell on a music store and he paused. Staring through the window, he could see hundreds of cds and records. Biting his lower lip, he debated for a few seconds and then entered the shop.

“We’re going to be closing soon because of the weather!” the shop clerk called over to him.

Siren said nothing, already thumbing through the cds. He wasn’t sure if he could get away with buying anything, but he still wanted to look. Once he was free from V.I.L.E he could buy as much music as he wanted. He looked over newer cds he’d never seen before, and he knew that now his online activity wasn’t being tracked, he could look a few of these artists up. Siren went through shelf after shelf, memorizing names and cover art, and after a time he became aware of the clerk clearing her throat behind him. He paused and glanced over to her.

“I’m closing the store now,” she informed him, “I’ve already stayed way longer than I was planning to. If you’re buying anything, I can ring you up now.”

Siren glanced at the cds he still hadn’t looked through. “Not done yet,” he commented, going back to what he was doing.

“Yes, you’re done,” the clerk said firmly, “The storm is getting too bad to remain open.”

Siren ignored her, and so she approached and put a hand on his back. “Come on, I’m asking you to please come back another day.”

“I only have one more shelf to look through,” Siren commented, shrugging her hand off his back.

“No, you’ve been here for over two hours,” the clerk informed him, “You can finish looking some other time.”

“Two hours? I was not here for two hours!” Siren protested, “It’s been like ten minutes!”

The clerk pointed towards the clock and Siren was shocked to see the time. He really had been there for over two hours. Oops. Michael was probably really pissed off by now, and he let out a sigh. The clerk then took him by the arm and began pushing him in the direction of the door.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” Siren snarled, trying to pull away.

The clerk tightened her grip and shoved him out the door. Siren stumbled in the snow, and then then spun to face her angrily, only to have the door closed in his face. Absolutely furious, he kicked the door hard.

“How dare you!” Siren yelled at the door, “It’s unprofessional and rude to lay your hands on a customer! I was  **going** to leave and you didn’t need to throw me out the door!”

Siren kicked the door again, and the clerk pulled down the blinds. Siren huffed, and then turned to storm away.

“...Siren?” came a voice from behind him.

Siren froze, and then slowly turned around.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Terry left the restaurant with his wife, and had his arm wrapped around her affectionately. They’d had a very relaxing and romantic early supper, and he was looking forward to going home to spend time with his kids. He looked down at his beautiful blonde-haired wife, and felt blessed by having her at his side. She smiled up at him in a soft and sweet fashion and he immediately leaned down to steal a kiss.

“The storm is really bad,” his wife Lucy said worriedly, “I hope the boys are alright…”

“Eddy is twelve and he’s capable of watching his brothers for an hour,” Terry pointed out.

“What if the power went out?”

“Then I’m sure the generator would have kicked in. They’re fine, Luce, and how often do you get to leave the house?”

Lucy frowned but then nodded her agreement. “You’re right, I’m just being overprotective again…”

Terry kissed her cheek. “It’s because you’re a good mother,” he assured her, “Now let’s head home.”

Lucy nodded, and she took his hand as they began heading down the street.

“It’s really bitter today,” Terry commented, “I hope the storm isn’t too bad tonight. I’ll have to close the storm shutters just in case.”

As they walked along, all of a sudden, Terry heard a  **very** familiar voice.

“Get your fucking hands off me!”

Terry froze and then looked over at the small figure that was thrown out of a nearby shop. He watched as the person kicked the shop door, and was clearly having a tantrum, and Lucy frowned up at him.

“Terry?” she questioned.

Terry let out a deep and resigned sigh. His one day off. He wasn’t even allowed just  **one** day away from this craziness.

“How  **dare** you! It’s unprofessional and rude to lay your hands on a customer! I was  **going** to leave and you didn’t need to throw me out the door!” Siren bellowed out.

Terry saw that Siren was dressed as a guard, and he immediately headed over to him, knowing Siren wasn’t allowed out of the lab.

“Siren?” he questioned.

Siren immediately went quiet and then slowly turned around to face him, clearly knowing he’d just been caught.

“What are you doing here?” Terry demanded, angrily. “Can I even go one damn day without you getting into trouble?”

Siren said nothing for a moment and then adopted a thick Russian accent. “Sorry, you have me mistaken for someone else.”

Terry yanked his helmet off, and then glowered down at him. Siren crossed his arms and looked away. Lucy approached and looked Siren up and down.

“Someone you know, Terry?” she questioned.

“This is Siren,” he replied, feeling resigned.

Lucy’s eyes widened. “The scientist you guard up at the lab?”

Terry nodded.

Terry had complained endlessly about Siren for months to the whole family, and so Lucy immediately looked him up and down again. He was very short and he had a sweet-looking face and large and innocent looking eyes, and she couldn’t imagine him being as horrible as Terry had described.

“Hello,” Lucy greeted, holding out her hand towards him.

Siren glared at her and didn’t accept the hand.

“What are you doing here?” Terry demanded for the second time. “You know you’re not allowed out of the lab! I thought Vess was supposed to be watching you!”

“Michael brought me to town,” Siren said evasively.

“That is not at all reassuring!” Terry snapped, “Where’s Michael? I’m going to give him a piece of my mind! You could have gotten hurt or lost! What if you had a confused moment and wandered out into the tundra?”

“I’m not a child, Kevin, and if I want to go to town, then I’ll go to town!”

Lucy furrowed her brow. “Kevin?” she questioned.

Terry let out a sigh. “Long story, Luce, I’ll explain later.” He then turned his attention back to Siren. “Where’s Michael?”

“Getting drunk at the Greasy Anus.”

Terry sighed again. “Of course he is. Come on, I’m bringing you back to Michael so he can return you to the lab.”

“Mind your own business, Kevin,” Siren ordered, turning away, “I was never here.”

Terry immediately caught him by the arm. “This  **is** my business. Literally my entire job is keeping you safe, you little shit.”

“Terry!” Lucy scolded, “That was really rude! There was no need of that! Look at how sweet he looks, don’t be so mean to him!”

Terry gave her a flat look. “Just wait until he speaks and then you won’t think he’s so sweet.”

Siren tried to shake Terry off, but the other man simply tightened his grip. Siren seemed to notice Lucy for the first time and narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her.

“Who are  **you** ?” he demanded.

“Oh, well I’m Lu-”

“Oh wait, I recognize you,” Siren interrupted, “You're Kevin's Lucy.”

Lucy cocked her head. “Kevin? My husband’s name is Terry.”

“Your cooking really sucks, and it tastes like poisoned vomit,” Siren informed her.

Lucy was completely taken aback. “..wh-wha...? I beg your pardon?”

Terry rolled his eyes. “I warned you.”

“Let  **go** !” Siren ordered, yanking on his arm, “I’ll go back to the lab.”

“No, I will escort you until I’m sure you make it back safely,” Terry responded, “Stop being difficult so you don’t waste any more of my day off!”

Siren scowled at him but said nothing. Terry then glanced over at Lucy who was watching Siren with a thoughtful expression on her face.

“There’s no point in you freezing your butt off, Luce, you head back to the house and I’ll be along in a few minutes.”

“No, I’ll come along,” she informed him, wanting to be nosy.

Lucy knew that Siren was the most valuable scientist in the lab, and she knew there had been several attempts at his life, but she was curious about him.

“Are you sure?” Terry asked worriedly, “It’s freezing out here!”

“I’m fine,” she responded, offering him a soft smile.

Terry gave a nod and they began walking, Siren being tugged along like a disobedient child. He was annoyed, but he honestly felt safer with Terry walking by his side and so he didn’t put up too much of a protest. When they reached the bar, they saw it was closed and there were no cars in the parking lot. Terry peered in the window and saw it was empty and all the lights were turned off.

“There’s no one here…” Terry said, frowning.

Siren paused and then his eyes widened. “That Irish bastard left me behind! He didn’t even  **try** to find me! That son of a bitch!”

Terry let out a low groan knowing that meant he would have to drive Siren back to the lab. He could see how hard Siren was shivering, and knew he was still recovering from his injuries.

“I'll have to call the lab to let Vess know you're safe with me. You'd better come back to my house to warm up before we head back.”

“I’m going to kill Michael!” Siren vowed.

“You look half frozen,” Lucy said sympathetically, “I’ll make you some tea once we get to the house.”

“I don’t like tea.”

“That’s fine,” she assured him, “What  **do** you like?”

Siren hesitated, not expecting her kind and patient tone. “Does your house have hot chocolate?” he demanded.

Lucy smiled. “It does,” she confirmed.

“The stuff in a tin?”

Lucy nodded.

Siren seemed to think about it for a moment and then to Terry’s surprise, he returned the nod.

“I like hot chocolate…” he commented, “As long as it has ** exactly** 3 marshmallows in it.”

Lucy raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure I can manage that.”

“Alright,” Siren agreed, allowing Lucy to take him by the arm.

Terry simply shook his head. Lucy could probably charm a starving grizzly bear. He followed along behind them, and by the time they made it to his house three streets over, they were all freezing and covered in snow.

The wind was howling all around them, and they could barely see through the snow. Terry unlocked the door and they stumbled inside, glad to be out of the cold. As they removed their coats, two small boys ran to greet their parents. The boys looked to be about eight and six, and they were immediately curious about Siren.

When Terry was handed Siren’s coat, he glanced at the inside and saw it belonged to one of the 2nd floor guards.

“How did you get Brian’s uniform?” he demanded.

Siren simply shrugged, and Terry frowned in disapproval, having a feeling it was a story that shouldn’t be told in front of his family.

“This is someone your daddy works with,” Lucy explained to the youngest child, “He’s going to stay here for a bit to warm up and then go home.”

“Hi!” the six year old greeted Siren, “My name is Eric!”

“I don’t care,” Siren replied, earning a sharp elbow from Terry.

“Be nice!” Terry hissed at him, “This is my family!”

Siren rolled his eyes. After kicking off his stolen boots and rest of the uniform, Siren was left in his sloppy clothes and Terry frowned at him.

“Did you not get dressed today? Those are the same clothes you were wearing yesterday.”

Siren didn’t answer, glancing all around feeling uncertain and out of his depth. He wasn’t used to socializing and this was too many people for his liking. Seeing his obvious discomfort and uncertainty, Lucy offered him a smile.

“Come on, the kitchen is this way,” she instructed, taking him by the elbow.

Siren shot Terry a nervous look and so Terry followed along to keep an eye on things. If Siren showed even the slightest indication of disassociating, he would have to protect his family. He would never allow Siren to harm them, and he hoped Siren kept his right mind so he wouldn’t have to defend them. 

“You’re so thin,” Lucy commented in concern, “Have you been sick recently?”

“Siren has issues when it comes to food,” Terry responded with a roll of his eyes, “He doesn’t eat.”

“Stop talking about me!” Siren snapped, “I’m fine!”

Lucy looked him over again and she was concerned. “I’m going to make you something to eat,” she announced.

“No.”

“It’ll just be a waste, Luce, he won’t eat it.”

“Well, there must be  **something** you like,” Lucy said to him. “What kind of food do you like?”

“I’m not hungry and there’s nothing I like,” Siren responded, taking a seat at the table.

“Well, he liked your soup and he likes bologna,” Terry commented, thinking of the two days they spent in the lab’s basement.

“I don’t have the ingredients to make the soup, but I can make you a sandwich if you like?” Lucy offered.

Siren wrinkled his nose and didn’t answer.

“I’ll make you one,” Lucy announced.

“I’m just going to step outside the door to give my boss a call,” Terry told her.

“Wait, no, don’t tell him!” Siren said in a panic, “He’s going to be so pissed about this!”

“Well, who’s fault is  **that** ?” Terry shot back.

“Michael’s.”

“No, it’s  **your** fault for sneaking away the second you were out of my sight! I can’t cover for you. He likely already knows.”

Siren looked mutinous knowing Vess was going to go nuclear the moment he returned. He let out a curse, knowing this whole thing could have been avoided if Michael simply did what he promised. Terry left the room and suddenly Siren was surrounded by three children.

“Hi!” the little one said again, “I’m Eric!”

“You already said that,” Siren pointed out.

“What’s your name?” Eric demanded.

“Go away.”

The eight year old hadn’t said a word yet, and he seemed a little bit anxious about having Siren in the house. He was hugging his arms close to his chest and was rocking slightly, staring at Siren but carefully not making eye contact. The oldest boy was staring straight at Siren, taking in his messy and disheveled appearance in amusement.

“You look like a homeless person,” he commented.

“Edward!” Lucy immediately scolded, “Don’t be so rude! You apologize right this instant!”

Edward rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. “Sorry,” he said, clearly not meaning it.

Lucy frowned in disapproval and then ushered the three children to take a seat.

“White or whole wheat bread, Siren?” Lucy asked, holding up two loaves.

“White.”

“Your name is SIREN?” Edward teased, “Like those mermaids in old stories?”

“It’s his workname, Edward, and you’re still being rude. This company likes to use cute little nicknames for all their employees.”

“You have no idea what V.I.L.E does, do you?” Siren demanded.

“Vaccine research of course,” Lucy responded, “Vaccine Inter-global Limited Exports or V.I.L.E for short. I know you’re the lead scientist who helps develop the new vaccines that have saved thousands of lives.”

“...right,” Siren responded.

“What’s your  **real** name?” Edward demanded, “Ariel?”

“You’re about two seconds from being sent to your room,” Lucy warned her son, “Stop being so rude to our guest!”

Lucy shook her head and went back to making the row of sandwiches.

“My name is Delano, or Del for short,” Siren stated.

Edward immediately let out a snort. “You would have been better off with Ariel.”

“Room!” Lucy said, turning to point.

“Aw, mum!” Edward whined.

“Now.”

Edward got up from the table and then stomped his way to the other room with a foul look on his face. “I’m sorry, Delano, I really don’t know what’s up with him lately. Ever since we moved here, he’s been getting worse and worse.”

Siren thought back to Maelstrom’s school and frowned, knowing the boy was likely already being corrupted. “He goes to the public school?”

Lucy nodded.

“Have you considered homeschooling?” Siren suggested.

“I’ve considered it, but the school here is supposed to be far superior education-wise. I also want him to socialize and make friends.”

“Friends are overrated,” Siren muttered.

“Mustard?” Lucy asked.

“Yes.”

Lucy cut the first sandwich and then set it in front of Siren with a mug of hot chocolate. Siren immediately frowned down at the sandwich and then pushed it away.

“What?” Lucy questioned, “Is something wrong with it?”

“You cut it into squares instead of triangles,” Siren stated like this was a completely reasonable thing to be upset about.

Lucy took this in stride and cut the next sandwich into triangles and then set it in front of him. Siren still looked unhappy about something and Lucy raised a brow in question.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

“It has crusts.”

Lucy turned to sandwich number three, sliced the crusts off and then cut it into triangles. She then set that one in front of Siren and gave the other two to her children. Siren stared long and hard at the sandwich but could find no fault with it. He lifted a piece of the bread, made sure there wasn’t anything weird inside it, and then closed it again.

“Everything okay?” Lucy asked, only mildly annoyed.

Siren didn’t answer and picked up a piece of the sandwich and took a tiny bite. Everything tasted acceptable, and so he took another bite. Lucy seemed pleased that he was eating, and then plated the last sandwich to bring to her oldest son.

When Terry returned a few moments later, he was surprised to see Siren was actually eating something.

“Vess is incredibly angry,” Terry stated.

“When is he not?” Siren retorted.

“The storm is a complete whiteout and impossible to drive in. You’ll have to spend the night and get a ride with me to work tomorrow. He was going to send a van to get you, but the driving was so bad that it crashed before even getting out of the gate. The safest thing for everyone is if you just stay here until the storm calms.”

Terry didn’t look very happy over this, but knew there was nothing he could do about it. Siren returned his frown, not really comfortable with this arrangement. He took a sip of his hot chocolate, and then looked around at the small family around him. Siren missed having a family and knew that somewhere out in the world his brothers were still alive and breathing. He’d find them, and then everything would finally be as it should.

Siren watched as Lucy put the meat back in the fridge and immediately saw how empty it was. He then glanced around the kitchen and saw there was very little food to be seen. Lucy placed the loaf of bread in an empty cupboard, and Siren looked down at his sandwich. Terry had told him money was tight for his family, but they were practically starving to death.

“Don’t waste food,” Terry scolded him, “Finish your supper.”

Siren picked up the last piece of his sandwich and took a bite and it didn’t escape his notice how the children weren’t given full glasses of milk. An odd guilty feeling twisted in Siren’s stomach knowing how much money he had in his V.I.L.E account. He had more money than he could ever spend, and Terry’s family was barely surviving. Why did V.I.L.E pay their guards such low wages?

Siren finished his hot chocolate and then felt in his pocket for his V.I.L.E card. Would Terry accept it if he offered it to him? Siren had no bills, and he didn’t really have any use for money. The moment he escaped, his account would be frozen and so the money was essentially just going to waste.

“Delano, come watch tv with me!” Eric begged, grabbing him by the hand.

“Eric, you leave him alone,” Lucy scolded.

Siren hadn’t watched tv since he’d been in highschool, and he was immediately interested. “You have tv?”

“Just basic cable,” Terry responded, “Every V.I.L.E house comes with it.”

Without a word, Siren got up from the table. “Show me,” he ordered Eric.

“Okay!” Eric cried out excitedly.

Terry wasn’t about to leave Siren alone with his children and so he quickly followed to keep an eye on things. Eric and Ethan took a seat on the couch and then reached for the tv remote. Siren immediately snatched it away so he could flip through the stations.

“Hey!” Ethan protested, this being the first thing he’d said. “I was going to watch channel 3!”

“Tough,” Siren retorted, not taking his eyes from the screen, “I have seniority.”

“Nuh huh!” Ethan responded, “That’s not fair.”

“Once again, tough.”

Terry let out a sigh. “They’re pretty much at the same maturity level,” he commented to Lucy.

Siren shot him a withering look. Terry simply took a seat next to him on the couch and snatched the remote out of his hand. “My seniority beats  **your** seniority,” he stated, switching the station to something family friendly.

“I wish the cartoons were in English,” Ethan complained, “I never know what’s going on!”

“Learn Russian,” Siren responded.

“It’s too hard…” Ethan said, averting his eyes in embarrassment, “ **School** is hard.”

“Do you know Russian, Del?” Eric demanded excitedly.

“Of course I do,” Siren answered, offended.

“Tell us what they’re saying!” Eric begged, “Pleeeeease?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Siren didn’t answer and simply slid down so he was slumped on the couch grumpily. 

“He’s just pretending, Eric, he doesn’t  **really** know Russian, it’s too hard,” Ethan announced with a sly smirk.

Siren snorted at the poor attempt to manipulate him. “Nice try.”

“Aw,” Ethan responded.

“Please, please, please, please, please?” Eric begged, turning pleading eyes to Siren, “If you tell us what they’re saying, it will be just like you’re telling us a story!”

Siren looked around at the family around him and didn’t feel quite as angry as he normally did. No one here was going to hurt him, and he felt safe. He gave the children an over-exaggerated eye roll.

“Can you fly a dragon, Sir Popple? Oh yes, as a knight I’ve been flying since I was a boy!” Siren said in a bored tone of voice. “Will you take me flying? Of course I will, Princess Violet. Give me your hand and I will help you on Cinder’s back!”

Terry was surprised at Siren’s patience with the children, and wondered if it was because he was finally away from that terrible lab. After a while, Edward came out and joined them and they spent the next several hours simply watching cartoons as Siren translated. Terry suspected he was making up half of the dialogue but the children didn’t seem to notice or care. 

The power went out around ten and when the room was suddenly plunged into complete darkness, Siren let out an immediate screech of panic and latched himself onto Terry’s arm with an iron grip. The generator began thumping and banging in the basement, and Siren yelled in absolute terror. Terry used the flashlight on his phone, and even then Siren was still shaking and crying in terror.

“What’s wrong with him?” Edward demanded in amusement, “Look at him, he’s crying!”

“No I’m not!” Siren snarled out, tightening his grip even more.

“Yes, you are! Oh my god!” Edward said, laughing.

“Edward, you’ve just earned yourself a weekend grounded!” Lucy scolded, “Go to bed and I better not hear another word from you!”

“He’s scared of the dark,” Terry explained to Lucy, “He has a really bad phobia.”

Lucy nodded in understanding. “I’ll go put the little ones to bed while you help him,” she said, taking Ethan and Eric by the hands.

The generator made a horrible grinding noise and Siren let out another screech. 

“Siren, calm down,” Terry told him gently, “It’s just the old generator trying to start. You’re alright, you’re safe here and nothing is going to hurt you.”

Siren said nothing, and when Terry looked down at him, he saw that Siren had buried his face into his chest and was shaking in fear.

“Siren, can you hear me?” Terry demanded.

Siren said nothing.

“Siren, please answer me,”

When Siren was still silent, Terry reached down and tipped Siren’s chin up so he could look in his eyes. Siren’s eyes were once again full of confusion and fear, and Terry let out a curse. Knowing he couldn’t let Siren out of his sight for even a moment like this, he slowly stood to his feet, pulling Siren with him. The generator was clearly not working, and the house was still in complete darkness. As he headed for the guest room, he met his wife in the hallway and she gave him a concerned look.

“What’s wrong with Delano?” she whispered.

“Siren is severely mentally ill and the lights going out really frightened him,” Terry explained, “I need to stay with him until he snaps out of it. He has moments of confusion, and he needs me to help get through it. I want you to lock the guest room from the outside and don’t open it unless I tell you to.”

Lucy nodded, her concern not fading. “Is he alright?”

Terry frowned down at Siren. “No, not really. He needs help that he can’t get here, and so all I can do is help in the only way I can. Hopefully once he calms down, I’ll call you to let me out.”

Lucy gave another nod. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Lock all of the children’s bedrooms, and lock yourself in our room. Siren can get violent when he’s like this and I’m not taking any chances.”

Terry opened the guest bedroom door and stepped inside, closing the door after him. He heard Lucy lock the door after him, and he walked towards the bed, pulling Siren with him. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, he forced Siren to lay down, the man never once loosening his grip on his arm. Covering Siren with the blankets, Terry simply sat beside him quietly, keeping the flashlight on. Siren continued to shake in fear for over an hour, but eventually his gaze became drowsy and his grip began to loosen. As Siren fell asleep, Terry was concerned since Siren hadn’t snapped out of it. He hoped these moments of confusion weren’t getting worse, and he knew he couldn’t leave him in the room by himself in case he woke up. 

Settling himself down beside Siren on the bed, he checked him one last time and then turned off the flashlight. It took Terry a long time to relax, and when he finally began to drift off, Siren was still clinging to his arm.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**Hopefully you guys didn't mind the fact this chapter was all Team Vess! The next chapter will be posted within two weeks! Thank you so much for everyone who commented on last chapter, and I apologize if I haven't had time to reply to each and every one. I appreciate all the support, and you guys are awesome!**

**A huge thank you to the super-talented artists who did artwork for this chapter!**

**Violetfic created the awesome pics of Team Crackle!**

**Coulrosaurus created the pic of Siren in the Shower!**

**MelodyMeddly created the pic of Siren's accident at the academy**

.

**Credit for the names of Otterman and Moose Boy go to Animedemon01**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**

**Please don't forget to let me know what you think! **


	31. Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone!
> 
> This chapter is incredibly long, over 25k words, and the next chapter will likely be just as long. There are a couple time-skips in this chapter and so it moves from summer to fall during this chapter. 
> 
> An enormous thank you to the very awesome Violetfic and Coulrosaurus for offering plenty of good suggestions, and for being my betas! They both seriously offered SO many suggestions for this chapter that they both deserve some recognition! You guys really helped improve this chapter a lot and you're awesome!
> 
> Please note that Dr. Vess and Michael Jr. both use the F-word extremely frequently in their everyday speech. You have been warned. Dr. Vess was created by Violetfic, and I am using him with her permission.
> 
> If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 31**

**Forgiveness**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The tension within Team Red felt heavy enough to cut with a knife. Mime Bomb stared at Le Chèvre with such a look of disgust and anger that it caught everyone off guard. They’d never seen him this angry before, and he simply sat there staring at the other man, the silence hanging heavily in the air.

They were on the flight back to Kazakhstan, and Le Chèvre had finally told Mime Bomb everything he had done. He explained the phone calls with Vess, the kidnapping, and the promises Vess had made to him. Le Chèvre had stood by and watched Mime Bomb being taken, fully expecting Mime Bomb to be taken back to the same lab that had tortured him for years.

Mime Bomb had been shocked at first, but as Le Chèvre continued explaining everything, he got angrier and angrier. He listened without interrupting and Le Chèvre admitted it had been a mistake to betray him and the rest of the team, but he didn’t actually apologize. When he was finally finished, Mime Bomb didn’t react, his hands clenched tightly in his lap. They sat in complete silence, Mime Bomb simply glowering at him, making no move to sign anything.

The staring was clearly starting to bother Le Chèvre and he again told him he regretted betraying him to who he thought was Vess. Mime Bomb simply kept staring. Le Chèvre shifted uncomfortably, and then crossed his arms defensively.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” he demanded, “Talk to me! I want to know what you’re thinking! Sign and Zack can translate for you!”

Mime Bomb narrowed his eyes and didn’t move. His shoulders were tense, and he ignored when Zack laid a gentle hand on his knee. He simply stared up at Le Chèvre with hate-filled eyes, and didn’t react.

Le Chèvre began pacing, the staring really starting to get to him. It would have been easier to dismiss Mime Bomb if he was wearing his usual face paint, but the boy hadn’t put it back on yet, and his face was far too human for Le Chèvre’s liking. The betrayal and fury was written all across the boy’s face, and for the first time, Le Chèvre felt a twinge of remorse. Before this moment, he’d regretted betraying his team and disappointing El Topo, but not really anything about Mime Bomb himself. He’d never really seen him as a real person, and he’d been **so** easy to hate. He’d always just been the weird quiet kid, and then the weird clown, but never just Yuri. Le Chèvre now looked at the freckled face in front of him, and knew Mime Bomb could have died because of him. 

Le Chèvre was far too proud and too stubborn to ever admit this, and he clenched his hands into his fists, feeling frustrated.

“Stop staring at me!” he ordered.

Mime Bomb continued glaring up at him.

“Stop it!” Le Chèvre ordered, “Stop it now! I told you everything and now it’s time to move past it!”

Mime Bomb didn’t once break his gaze.

Le Chèvre paced again, quickly growing agitated. “Stop staring at me!” he snarled, “It was your own fault I did it in the first place! Maybe if you weren’t such a freak, I wouldn’t have done it!”

“Jean Paul!” El Topo exclaimed, completely aghast that he’d said such a thing.

“Not cool, man!” Zack snarled, getting to his feet, “He never did **anything** to you to deserve that!”

“_ Non _ , what I said is true!” Le Chèvre snapped, “He’s a **freak** ! He’s never done anything useful for this team. In fact, he’s the most useless member of this entire team, and he’s just using us for protection! The rest of us can fight, the rest of us have special skills, but what does **he ** bring to the team?! He **never** should have been accepted into V.I.L.E academy, he **never** should have graduated, and he **never** should have joined you!”

“Jean Paul, that is **enough** .” Carmen’s voice said through their coms, “What you did was inexcusable. Don’t you **dare** put the blame on Mime Bomb!” Her tone was icy, and Le Chèvre went silent, knowing he’d gone too far.

He was then caught completely by surprise when he was slapped hard across the face by Zack. 

“If anyone is the most useless member of this team, then it’s **me** ,” Zack cut in angrily, bristling in pure rage. “I can’t fight, I’m not smart, I have no special skills, and the only thing I can do is drive a car. Mime Bomb is **way** more valuable than me! He’s smart and resourceful, and he never gives up!”

Le Chèvre looked away.

“I thought you said you were going to apologize!” El Topo demanded angrily, “Jean Paul! What were you thinking?! This was **not** what we talked about!”

Le Chèvre raised a hand to his face and slowly closed his eyes. Everything was a mess.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “I will never do anything like this again. I’ve ruined everything.”

Mime Bomb continued staring at him silently, and so Le Chèvre turned and walked away without saying anything further. El Topo did **not** look very happy and he followed after his partner to the back of the plane, clearly planning on discussing this further.

“Are you okay, Mime Bomb?” Zack demanded.

Mime Bomb said nothing, his glare still aimed in Le Chèvre’s direction. Zack took his hand and gave it a squeeze and finally Mime Bomb looked away from Le Chèvre.

“I know you’re really mad right now, but you’re going to forgive him right?”

Mime Bomb shook his head, and everyone stared at him.

“You’re not?” Zack asked in surprise.

Mime Bomb signed something and Zack frowned at him.

“Well, you kinda have to eventually!” Zack pointed out, “We all live together!”

Again, Mime Bomb shook his head. He had trusted Le Chèvre, and had even tried to be friends with him, but he had betrayed him in the worst possible way. Mime Bomb remembered how his maternal grandmother had done the same thing. She had sent him to that lab, fully expecting to never see him again. The betrayal cut deep, and Le Chèvre had only re-ignited the pain of it. Mime Bomb had seen Team Red as his family, but now he wasn’t so sure. Family apparently couldn’t be trusted. His cousin had tortured and tried to kill him, his uncle had stolen his voice, his father had abandoned him, his grandfather had him kidnapped, and Mime Bomb wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. 

He stared at Zack and wondered how long it would be before the other boy turned on him as well. How long would he get to remain as part of the team? The happiness he had found within Team Red was only temporary, and he felt both disappointed and devastated. He would only be betrayed again and again.

“Mime Bomb?” Zack questioned with a frown, “Are you okay?”

A silent tear made it’s way down Mime Bomb’s cheek, and Zack’s expression was instantly concerned and he placed a hand on Mime Bomb’s back. It was too much for Mime Bomb and he covered his head with both of his arms and curled in on himself, feeling the tears flooding his eyes.

“Oh no, Mime Bomb!” Zack said gently, wrapping an arm around him, “It’s going to be okay! I’ll make sure nothing like this ever happens again!”

Mime Bomb drew his knees up under his chin and just curled up further.

Ivy took a seat on his other side and rubbed a comforting hand on his back, not quite sure what to do. 

“You don’t really believe any of the stuff he said, do you?” she asked gently, “You earned your place here with us, and you belong here.”

“Yeah, buddy, you’re our brother and you’re not going anywhere!” Zack exclaimed, “Le Chèvre did a really shitty thing, but we’ll get through this. It’s okay to be upset and it’s okay to be angry, but please don’t shut yourself off like this.”

Mime Bomb didn’t move, everything feeling too overwhelming. Zack and Ivy could feel him shaking from sobs and they exchanged a worried look. Player knelt down in front of Mime Bomb’s seat and gave him a hug.

“I’m sorry, Mime Bomb,” Player whispered, “We care a lot about you, and we’ll **always** be here for you.”

“We need to get Dr. Brownswell on the phone!” Zack said, his voice strained, “Mime Bomb needs to talk this through with her!”

“We don’t have a signal right now,” Julia pointed out, “It will be hours before we land…”

“Mime Bomb, can you please look at me?” Zack asked gently.

Mime Bomb didn’t move.

“I’m here for you,” Zack told him, “Once you’re ready, I’ll be here, I promise. I won’t move from this spot this whole flight!”

Team Red stared at the miserable mime and knew this wasn’t good. If he was having a relapse because of Le Chèvre’s actions, it would be difficult to recover from it. He needed professional help that they weren’t qualified for. They exchanged long and silent looks with one another, knowing this was going to be a difficult and awkward flight.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Plague Doctor stepped off the plane and glanced around the private airstrip curiously. Several Void foot soldiers waited nearby, and he could see a garish purple car that was clearly meant for them. He only took two steps before the full force of the San Diego sun hit him, and he was instantly overheated and uncomfortable. By the time he got to the bottom of the airstairs, it felt like he was being cooked alive and he stopped walking, glancing back towards the air-conditioned plane.

Matryoshka stepped off the plane wearing a light red sundress and she didn’t seem bothered by the heat at all as she opened a parasol and rested it over her shoulder casually. She glanced down at her brother, rolled her eyes at him, and didn’t comment on the fact he was still in full costume. Walking down the stairs, she approached Plague Doctor and stood by his side as they watched their henchmen load their bags into the car.

[[You’re not going to be able to wear black leather during the summer in California,]] she pointed out.

Plague Doctor shook his head, and Matryoshka rolled her eyes a second time.

[[Suit yourself,]] she responded, [[You’re the one who’s going to be miserable the entire trip.]]

“Excuse me, ma’am,” someone interrupted, “Everything has been arranged to your specifications, and I’ll be the one escorting you to your hotel.”

Matryoshka turned to face him. “Who are you?”

“Your personal guide,” the man responded respectfully.

Matryoshka frowned. “You’re American?” she questioned.

The man nodded. “Yes, ma’am, I live in San Diego and know the area well.”

“Do you speak Russian?”

The man shook his head and gave her an apologetic look. “No, I’m sorry, but I don’t. English and Spanish only.”

Matryoshka normally preferred to speak in her native tongue and she let out a deep sigh. “Alright,” she replied, “What is your name?”

“Bruce, ma’am,” he answered.

The name didn’t feel pleasant on her tongue, but Matryoshka didn’t comment. “How far is our hotel?” she asked.

“Not far, just a thirty minute drive,” Bruce replied, “The resort is the nicest accommodation in the city, and I hope you’ll find it acceptable. You have the entire East Wing to yourselves.”

Suddenly Plague Doctor fell against Matryoshka who was quick to steady him.

“Dmitry?” she questioned.

Plague Doctor raised a hand to his head, staggered a step backwards, and a moment later he fainted. Bruce surged forward to catch him before he hit the ground, and Matryoshka pulled off his mask to get him some air. Plague Doctor was flushed and sweating, and it was obvious the heat was affecting him.

“Get him back on the plane, and strip him down!” Matryoshka ordered, “Someone grab ice and cold water, and someone else find him something cooler to wear! Hurry!”

As Bruce carried Plague Doctor back onto the plane, the other henchmen ran to do as they were told.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

It was still snowing when Terry awoke early the next morning when the lights suddenly turned on. Blinking tiredly, he glanced up at the light, glad the power finally came back on. There was a crack as he stretched and he turned his attention to the storm outside.

He stared out the window at the raging storm and knew no one would be leaving the house anytime soon. He quietly checked on Siren, saw he was still out cold, and then left him to sleep, texting Lucy to let him out of the room. 

Lucy was an early riser and already fully dressed and ready to start her day. When she received the text, she stopped what she was doing and crossed the hall to unlock the guest room door. Unbolting the door, she opened it, glanced in at her husband and then over at Siren who was still sound asleep. Terry held a finger to his lips and she nodded her understanding.

Terry silently crept out of the room, and then shut and locked the door after him. Lucy gave him a concerned look, and he simply motioned for her to follow him to the kitchen. She gave a nod, and followed him down the hall.

“Is Delano alright?” Lucy asked the moment they were in the kitchen.

“Honestly no,” Terry replied, “He’s not mentally well, and he **really** needs professional help, but that’s never going to happen with V.I.L.E. He dissociates when he’s scared or upset, and it seems to be getting worse lately. He never snapped out of it last night, and fell asleep still holding onto me.”

“He seems to trust you a **lot** ,” Lucy stated, “Much of what I’ve seen of his behaviour reminds me of Ethan, and how he shuts down when he’s overwhelmed. You’ve told me stories about his rudeness and his tantrums, and it seems **so** similar to Ethan. I was just wondering if Delano’s autistic?”

Terry gave a shrug. “He **could** be, but if he is, it’s undiagnosed. I think most of his problem is the fact he’s incredibly spoiled. He gets away with treating people like that, and no one ever calls him out on how he acts. I’m the only one who doesn’t put up with it.”

Lucy let out a snort of amusement. “I think everyone knows your opinion on how he behaves.”

Terry grimaced, knowing that he had complained relentlessly over the last six months about Siren. His whole family and everyone at the lab had heard his rants, and he honestly felt a little bad about it now. He hadn’t realized how bad Siren’s situation was, and now he had compassion and pity for the other man.

“He really hates it at the lab, and even he knows it’s not good for him,” Terry commented, “He’s mistreated there, and I think he’s rather lonely.”

“Can’t he just quit? Leave and get the help he needs?”

Terry shook his head. “V.I.L.E would never allow it. Siren is much too valuable for them to ever allow to leave.”

“That’s not right!” Lucy cried out in outrage, “How can they keep him here? We should contact someone to put in a complaint!”

Terry rested a reassuring hand on his wife’s back, seeing how upset she was getting. “I’m handling it,” he told her, “I’m helping him leave when the time comes.”

“Why not right now?” Lucy demanded, “I don’t like this at all! You’ve been working longer and longer hours, and now I see why! You need to get him out of there!”

Terry knew he couldn’t tell his wife the whole situation at V.I.L.E, and he simply shook his head. “Siren refuses to leave until his latest experiment is finished.”

Lucy glanced back in the direction of the guest room. “And when will **that** be?” she asked, “If he’s been having meltdowns and episodes like this, he’s a danger to himself!”

“I’m keeping an eye on him, Luce,” Terry assured her, “I make sure he stays as safe as possible every day, and I’m going to be helping him get out when he needs it.”

“He’s covered in bruises and cuts,” Lucy pointed out, “What happened to him? There’s something happening at that lab that you’re not telling me about.”

“During the time I was reassigned, someone beat him badly,” Terry explained, “The other guards absolutely hate him, and there’s already been a few attempts at his life. This is why I have to work seven days a week right now; it’s to protect him.”

Lucy’s face was horrified, and then a fierce look entered her eyes. She thought of someone taking advantage of Ethan in such a way, trying to hurt him, trying to kill him, and she bristled in fury. She thought of how thin and battered Siren was, and felt the instinctive urge to protect him.

“He’s not going back there,” she said firmly, “Send the lab a message that he’s quitting.”

“Luce, you can’t force a grown man to quit his job if he doesn’t want to,” Terry pointed out, “This is **his** decision.”

Lucy scowled with a determined air. “I’ll convince him,” she vowed, “He looks sick, and he needs to leave V.I.L.E before something happens to him! Someone else can work on his vaccine research!”

Terry sighed. “Siren’s going to bite your head right off if you try talking to him about it,” he stated, “He’s rude and ill-tempered, and probably the most stubborn person I’d ever met. If he doesn’t want to do something then he’s not going to do it.”

Lucy frowned and didn’t answer. The determined look was still in her eyes as she went about making coffee, and Terry knew she would still try. The only thing he could do is wait to intercept the inevitable fit Siren threw at her trying to get involved.

“Do you want me to throw on some eggs for you?” she asked.

Terry nodded, “Sure. Do you need any help?”

Lucy shook her head. “No, I’m fine,” she responded.

As Lucy began breakfast for her husband, she wondered what Siren would like. Thinking of how particular he was about his food, she had a feeling it would be best to ask him before making anything. 

The smell of the perking coffee woke Siren who was immediately confused. He didn’t recognize where he was, and it didn’t look like any of the rooms at the lab. Sitting up in bed, he ran his fingers over the quilt covering him, for once not cold. The lab was **always** too cold, and the fact he was comfortable was a bit disconcerting. Rubbing at his eyes, he then remembered where he was. Glancing around the room, he frowned at the fact he didn’t remember going to bed. Did he fall asleep watching tv? Did Terry move him to the bed?

Slipping his legs out of the bed, he could smell coffee and decided to investigate. Heading across the room, he turned the doorknob and realized the door wouldn’t open. He tugged and pushed on it, but it didn’t budge. Furious that he was locked in, he was about to bang on the door when the lock suddenly clicked open. The door opened and the six year old, Eric, was standing there, looking a bit curious.

“Why were you locked in?” he asked, “Did Daddy ground you?”

Siren scoffed, and then passed him by, following the scent of the coffee. When he entered the kitchen, Terry seemed alarmed to see him, and then his eyes went to Eric, realizing his son must have opened the door.

Siren took a seat at the table without a word, and it didn’t escape his notice the concerned look Terry shot him. Reaching across the table, he snatched Terry’s coffee mug right out of his hand, and took a massive gulp of it before the other man could react.

“Well, looks like you’re feeling better,” Terry stated dryly, “There’s a whole pot of coffee. You didn’t need to steal mine.”

“Go to hell,” Siren muttered, taking another large gulp.

Terry glanced at the clock and saw it was only a little after six. Siren was notoriously foul if he didn’t get enough sleep, so it looked like Terry was in for a long and irritating day.

“Good morning, Delano,” Lucy greeted him in a friendly tone.

Siren narrowed his eyes at her.

“Did you sleep well? Were you warm enough?”

Siren took a sip of coffee and said nothing, instead reaching for the nearby pot of coffee.

“Don’t pay him any attention, Luce, he’s just being a grouchy little shit.”

“Terry, language!” Lucy scolded, glancing to their six year old.

Eric grinned widely and giggled. “Daddy said a bad word!”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Yes he did.”

“Is he in trouble?” Eric demanded.

Lucy smiled in amusement. “He sure is! No dessert for Daddy tonight!”

“Oh no!” Terry exclaimed in an over-dramatic fashion. “What if I said I was sorry?”

Lucy crossed her arms mock-angrily. “Let’s hear it then!”

Terry cleared his throat and then held up his hands in a pleading gesture. “Oh beautiful wife of mine, can you find it in your heart to forgive this foul-mouthed wretch?”

Lucy seemed to ponder hard.

“You gotta forgive him, Mommy, he said he was sorry!” Eric whispered.

“Of course I forgive you!” Lucy announced, “but I better not hear you speaking like that again!”

Terry crossed his heart. “I swear it! I’m a changed man!”

Lucy laughed and then shook her head as she turned towards the fridge. Siren had watched the entire strange exchange silently, and he seemed a bit troubled about something.

“Are you hungry, Delano?” Lucy asked, opening the fridge door.

Siren shook his head. “No.”

“You have to eat **something**, how about eggs?”

“I don’t like eggs, they’re mushy and rubbery at the same time.”

“Alright, well, what about toast?”

“I don’t like toast either, it’s just dried out bread. I’m fine with coffee.”

“You’re too thin, Delano, and you need to eat something besides coffee! How about oatmeal?”

Siren pulled a face at that suggestion. “Gritty cement,” he commented.

Lucy glanced into her fridge which didn’t have too much in it, and then she glanced towards her counter where she kept her flour and sugar.

“How about pancakes?”

Siren hesitated a few seconds, and then shook his head. Lucy saw that hesitation and removed the eggs out of the fridge.

“Well, I’m going to make pancakes for the kids and you’re welcome to have some if you like.”

“Oh, pancakes!” Eric exclaimed excitedly.

Siren said nothing and simply refilled his stolen coffee mug. As Lucy began making the mix, Terry frowned at Siren, wondering if he remembered dissociating. 

“Are you feeling alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Siren responded shortly, “When am I going back to the lab?”

Terry glanced towards the window. “Not until that storm calms down a bit. It’s far too dangerous to be out driving right now.”

“...Did Vess say anything to you?”

“Like what?” Terry questioned.

“About me?” Siren asked, a slightly worried look in his eyes, “Just how angry was he?”

Terry frowned. “Well, I’m not going to sugarcoat it, he was** incredibly** upset. He was worried something was going to happen to you. He ordered me to keep you here under all circumstances and keep him informed if anything happened.”

Siren knew Vess didn’t give a shit about him. The only thing Vess was worried about was the potential loss to Siren’s Volkov knowledge. If Siren was anyone else, Vess would have gotten rid of him years ago.

“Blueberries in your pancakes, Delano?” Lucy asked.

“No.”

“Apple and cinnamon?”

“No.”

“Banana?”

“No. I don’t like fruit,” Siren informed her.

“**Any** kind of fruit?” Lucy asked in surprise.

“Fruit is sticky and mushy,” he replied.

Terry raised a brow. “How are you even alive?” he questioned, “You probably have like 42 vitamin deficiencies.”

“Vess makes me take a daily multivitamin,” Siren replied, “It’s the V.I.L.E version and allegedly better than anything store-bought.”

Over the last six months of working for V.I.L.E, Terry had seen Vess give Siren handfuls of pills almost every single day and Siren normally took them without complaint. He had no idea what any of the pills were, and he really hoped they weren’t responsible for making Siren the way he was.

As the pancakes began cooking, the other two kids soon wandered out, the smell attracting them.

“Hello Del,” Ethan greeted shyly.

Siren let out a grunt of acknowledgement.

“What are you drinking?” he asked, looking at the mug.

“Coffee.”

“Can I try some?”

Without a word, Siren pushed his mug over to the boy as Terry sputtered indignantly. Terry snatched the mug before Ethan could touch it and shot Siren a glare.

“No, my eight year old son **can’t** have coffee, Siren!” he snapped, “Honestly.”

Siren rolled his eyes, and took the mug back. A few seconds later, Lucy set a massive stack of pancakes on the table. She then placed a plate in front of each person along with butter and maple syrup. As the children eagerly grabbed pancakes and fought over the syrup, Siren simply stared without interest.

Lucy didn’t comment on the fact he didn’t take one and she took a seat and took one off the stack. As she spread butter across it, she noticed Siren was staring at the remaining pancakes with a conflicted look on his face. She pointedly didn’t say anything and a few moments later, he hesitantly reached out and took one. He didn’t put any butter or syrup on it and ripped a tiny piece off to taste. It seemed to meet his high standards because he ripped off a slightly bigger piece.

“You’re eating a pancake like a chipmunk,” Edward commented, “You’re so weird.”

“Edward, how many times am I going to have to tell you to knock off the rudeness?” Lucy snapped, “You’re already grounded - do you want to lose tv on top of that?”

Edward went silent and focused on his breakfast instead.

Siren had always liked plain pancakes ever since he was a kid, and his grandmother used to make them every Monday morning before school. His brothers used to absolutely slather theirs in butter, syrup or jam, but he didn’t like the sticky texture. 

Although Siren was a slow eater, no one commented, and when Lucy began cleaning up the empty plates, she slid the last pancake onto his plate without a word. She and Terry then got up to do the dishes, not making a big deal about the fact he was eating. He appreciated that, and picked away at the pancakes slowly, watching the kids as they began playing with several action figures.

When he finished the last piece of the pancakes, Lucy took his plate and then refilled his coffee mug without a word. Siren was a little anxious about having this many people in the room with him, but he found it wasn’t quite as overwhelming as it had been the night before. Sipping calmly on his coffee, he felt his bad mood starting to deteriorate. Soon, he’d be able to experience this type of life with his own family. His brothers had already left V.I.L.E and all he had to do was track them down.

“What kind of research are you working on at the moment, Delano?” Lucy asked.

“I’m researching the probability of Terry ever getting a raise,” Siren replied, “So far the data doesn’t look promising.”

“Oh, shut up, Siren,” Terry muttered, rolling his eyes, “He’s not allowed to talk about it, Luce. It’s all confidential.” 

“Do you want to play with us, Del?” Eric asked, holding out a toy.

“Go away,” Siren ordered, taking a long sip of coffee.

“Leave Delano alone, sweetheart, don’t be a bother,” Lucy ordered, “Why don’t you kids go play in your rooms for a while?”

“I’m twelve, mum, I don’t play!” Edward protested, dropping his toy to the ground, “That’s for babies.”

Lucy gave him a patient look. “Then would you do me a huge favour and entertain your brothers for a while?”

Edward scowled and crossed his arms. “Yeah, I guess,” he reluctantly agreed.

He quickly picked his toy back up and then ushered the two younger ones out of the kitchen. Once the children were gone, Lucy turned a concerned look to Siren.

“How are you feeling? I know you had a rough night last night, and I was worried about you. Do you need anything? Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Help with what? What are you talking about?” Siren demanded, setting down the mug, “What happened last night?”

Lucy stared at him in surprise. “You don’t remember?”

“Remember what?”

“When Siren gets confused, he sometimes doesn’t remember afterwards,” Terry explained, “It’s almost like a mild amnesia.”

Siren stiffened in alarm. He’d had another blackout... How often did this happen for Terry to be so casual about it? He struggled to remember the night before, but there was a foggy haze on the memories. He remembered watching tv, and he remembered the lights suddenly going out, but nothing after that. Siren rubbed his head, and knew this was incredibly bad. 

“Look, Delano,” Lucy began, her tone concerned, “About your job at the lab…”

Siren frowned at her. “What about it?” he demanded.

“It doesn’t seem like you enjoy your job very much,” she pointed out, “I mean no offense, but you seem incredibly stressed, and it seems to be affecting you physically.”

Siren narrowed his eyes. “I’m fine,” he responded, his tone icy.

Lucy took a seat beside him and shook her head. “You’re covered from head to toe in bruises, and you’re much too thin. You had a breakdown last night, and it’s probably caused in part from the stress.”

“This is none of your business!” Siren snapped, not even noticing one of his hands was resting on one of Eric’s toy cars. “I’m fine!”

“There are thousands of labs all around the world, and if you’re unhappy here, you don’t have to stay. You could even change careers if that’s what you want.”

Siren began to absentmindedly spin one of the car’s wheels, quickly feeling more and more agitated the more Lucy spoke. His shoulders grew stiff and he glared at her angrily. 

“I’m only trying to help you,” Lucy assured him, quickly recognizing the signs of an impending tantrum, “I just want you to know that there are people willing to help you. We’ll do everything we can if you decide to leave the lab.”

Terry could tell Siren was about to have a fit and he eyed him warily, ready to intervene the second he began to throw things. He very subtly slid the mug of hot coffee out of Siren’s reach, not wanting him to throw it at his wife.

Lucy smiled at Siren gently, and he quickly looked away from her face. It was difficult to be angry when someone was looking at him like that, and it made him uncomfortable. His shoulders slumped as he slowly began to calm down, and Lucy set a gentle hand on his arm.

“This is a safe place here, and Terry and I want to help you,” Lucy assured him, “You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

Not wanting to think about any of this right now, Siren glanced towards the living room, wanting an escape.

“I’m going to watch tv,” he announced, quickly getting to his feet.

Terry wasn’t expecting this and it took him by surprise. He’d been certain Siren would throw a massive tantrum, but it appeared he was wrong.

“Go ahead,” Terry told him, “but don’t be surprised if the signal is fuzzy. It’s always bad during storms.”

Siren left the kitchen without acknowledging what Terry said, and made his way into the living room, hoping to distract himself. Turning on the tv, he grimaced at the loud, bright cartoon and immediately flipped the station. There were only five stations, and none of them seemed that interesting. One station was VILE propaganda masquerading as news, another was cartoons for young children, the third was cartoons for older children, the fourth was sports, and the last was a soap opera. He left it on the soap opera and then slouched down comfortably to watch as the woman on screen cried as her lover abandoned her and rode away dramatically on a horse. When she began to sing about her heartbreak, Siren sat straight up. A Russian musical soap opera! Hell yes! 

Siren sat transfixed as drama after drama kept happening on screen, and he quickly found himself getting invested. When he was on the third episode, Eric stepped in front of the screen and he immediately snarled a curse at him.

Eric seemed startled by his intense reaction, and Siren was suddenly swatted sharply across the back of the head from behind. Letting out a surprised yelp, he looked up and saw Terry glowering down at him.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say to my six year old son?” Terry demanded, narrowing his eyes.

Siren slunk down a little lower, looking up at Terry with wide eyes. “Er…”

“I must be going deaf, because a grown man certainly wouldn’t be swearing at a small child, right?”

Siren slunk down even further.

“I’m going to assume I misheard you, but if I hear any more four letter words coming from your direction, we will be having a serious discussion, do you understand me?”

Terry’s glare was intense, and Siren gave him a nod, quickly averting his gaze. “Sorry...” he muttered quietly.

Terry crossed his arms. “I don’t think Eric heard you.”

Siren felt his face flush, and he glanced over at the nearby boy. “...sorry, Eric,” he repeated sullenly.

“It’s okay! Eddie gets in trouble all the time for saying bad words,” Eric replied, “Last week he got his mouth soaped out.”

“Hmm, now **that’s** an idea…” Terry responded jokingly, “Keep that in mind, Siren.”

Siren rolled his eyes. “Why are you standing over me? Do you want something?”

“I came in to tell you that the storm is starting to die down a bit. Hopefully after lunch it will be safe for you to return to the lab.”

“Joy,” Siren responded, “Looking forward to it.”

“Are you going to just watch Russian soap operas all day?” Terry asked, genuinely curious.

“Yep.”

“Well, okay then,” Terry responded, “Lunch is at noon.”

Without another word, Terry turned and left the room. Eric crawled up on the couch beside Siren and glanced to the tv.

“Can I watch with you?”

“Whatever,” Siren responded a bit sulkily.

Siren turned his attention back to the show just as another musical number began, and he quickly became invested again. Eric crawled up beside him on the couch and began bouncing around, but Siren ignored him, not really wanting to face Terry’s wrath again. Other than the occasional bathroom break, Siren didn’t move from the couch all morning, and when a sandwich was brought in to him, he curled up his nose in disgust at it.

“What’s that?” he demanded.

“It’s peanut butter,” Lucy informed him.

“Smooth or crunchy?” Siren asked, glancing back to the screen.

“Crunchy.”

Siren didn’t reach out to take it and Lucy frowned down at him. 

“It’s on white bread with no crusts and cut into triangles,” she stated impatiently, “We ran out of bologna and so this is all we have for right now.”

Siren gave a grunt in response and didn’t take it. “I’m not hungry.”

“You have to eat **something**!” Lucy insisted, “What if I made something else, like a bit of rice or pasta?”

“Not hungry.”

“Siren, eat the sandwich or I’m going to grind it into your hair!” Terry called from the kitchen, “Don’t waste food!”

Siren was tempted to point out that it would only be wasted if Terry followed through on his threat, but he didn’t comment.

“I only like smooth peanut butter,” he responded with a shrug.

“Siren!” Terry scolded, still yelling from the kitchen.

“I like crunchy peanut butter, mommy!” Eric announced proudly, “I’ll eat the sandwich!”

“Are you sure you don’t want it, Delano dear?”

Siren gave her an odd look at the ‘dear’ and silently shook his head. Lucy let out a sigh and passed the plate over to Eric.

“Don’t get peanut butter on the couch,” she stated, turning to head back into the kitchen.

A few seconds later Lucy was back holding two cans of soup. “I have chicken noodle and tomato soup,” she informed him, “Do you like either of those?”

Siren glanced between the cans briefly, his gaze settling on the tomato. He hesitated, and then shook his head.

Lucy noticed his odd reaction and then asked, “What’s wrong with the tomato soup?” she asked.

“I only like it a certain way.”

“Which is…?” Lucy prompted.

“Made with milk and a grilled cheese.”

“Are you asking me to make you a grilled cheese, Delano?” Lucy questioned in amusement.

“...no,” Siren responded, once again looking back to the tv.

Lucy once again left the room, and Siren watched the soap opera silently. The main character was attempting to murder her ex-fiance and just as she was stabbing him in the back, his gay lover came to his rescue and fought her off. As the two characters were having a rap battle with knives, Lucy re-entered the living room and set a grilled cheese and mug of tomato soup on the table beside Siren. Siren glanced over at the food, and then turned his attention back to the soap.

“Don’t let your food go cold,” Lucy instructed, once again leaving the room.

Absentmindedly, Siren nibbled on the food, never taking his eyes from the screen. Eric bounced all around him on the couch, the six year old bored of the show and trying to get Siren to play with him. Siren ignored him, and even when Eric began placing toys on his lab, Siren pretended not to notice. After a while, the other two kids entered the living room, and he was surrounded on all sides by chatter and bouncing. Quickly getting annoyed, Siren glared at the kids but didn’t comment.

“Can I watch my show now?” Ethan demanded, “_ Дракон _ comes on in a few minutes.”

“No,” Siren replied, grabbing the remote before the boy could touch it.

“I wanna watch _ Дракон _ too!” Eric said eagerly, “I like that show!”

“No,” Siren repeated, certain he was getting close to the end of the series.

“Daddy makes us all **share** the tv,” Eric pointed out, “You’ve been hogging it all day!”

Siren didn’t answer.

“When Eddie doesn’t share, he gets sent to his room,” Eric continued, giving Siren a meaningful look.

“Shut up, runt!” Edward snapped, “Don’t tell people things like that!”

“Daaaad, Eddie told me to shut up!” Eric bellowed out.

“Edward, leave your brother alone or you’ll be spending the afternoon in your room!” Terry called from the kitchen.

Edward looked mutinous, but he said nothing, simply crossing his arms and scowling at his brother.

“And Delano won’t share the tv!” Eric tattled.

Terry let out an audible groan from the kitchen. “Just let him have the tv, Eric, he’s going home soon and it’s not worth the fight!”

Eric and Ethan both crossed their arms mirroring Edward, knowing this wasn’t fair. Siren shot them a smug smirk, but didn’t comment, instead turning back to his show. Completely invested in the crazy plot, he scoffed to himself at the idiotic decisions the main character kept making. She’d had multiple opportunities for revenge, but she always squandered her chance.

After another few episodes, Terry entered the living room and glanced down at Siren on the couch.

“Vess just called, and he’s sending a van to pick you up. The streets have been plowed and they should be here any minute.”

Siren glanced up at him and then back at the tv. He had thought the show was coming to an end, but then with a massive twist, the main character was now engaged to an evil business owner who may or may not be a witch. There still seemed to be a lot left before the end.

“But I haven’t seen the end of the show…” Siren protested.

“There’s over 200 episodes of that soap opera,” Terry commented, “You’re not going to be able to watch them all today anyway.”

Siren looked like he was about to have a fit, and Terry quickly continued. “Why don’t you start watching it at the lab?”

This thought hadn’t occurred to Siren, and he hesitated, wondering if he’d be allowed a tv. Considering how furious Vess was likely to be at him, he knew it probably wasn’t a good idea to ask anytime soon.

“Will you record the rest of the series for me?” he asked.

Terry nodded, knowing that was easy enough to do. “Alright, I’ll stick it on a thumb drive for you,” he promised.

Siren gave a stretch and there was an audible crack as he did so. Wincing, he got up from the couch and handed the remote to Eric.

“Bye, Del!” Eric cried out, “Come back and play tomorrow!”

“...probably not,” Siren responded, following Terry out of the room.

Terry handed over the stolen uniform, and Siren grimaced, remembering the stench. “...I’m just walking to the car and so I don’t need to put this skunk suit back on.”

“It’s negative 45 celsius out,” Terry commented, “Put on the coat at least.”

“It smells bad,” Siren complained.

“Lucy washed the uniform this morning,” Terry responded, holding it out.

Siren hesitantly reached out and took the uniform. When he gave it a sniff, it indeed smelled clean, and so he put it on without protest.

“Make sure Brian gets this back because V.I.L.E deducts uniforms out of our pay and I know he can’t afford to pay for a replacement.”

“He apparently can’t afford a bar of soap either,” Siren commented rudely.

“Here, Delano, I boxed you up some spaghetti for your supper,” Lucy said, holding out a paper bag towards him.

Siren hesitated and then accepted the bag, peering inside at the tupperware inside. “I don’t li-”

“Take the spaghetti, Siren,” Terry interrupted, “Take it or else Lucy is going to worry about you.”

Siren furrowed his brow and glanced to Lucy who nodded her agreement. Deciding it was just easier to agree, he nodded.

“Kevin, what is your employee number?”

Terry was instantly suspicious. “Why?”

Siren shrugged. “I just want to know.”

Terry frowned at him, but knew Siren would likely just look it up if he refused to answer. “7894363,” he answered.

Siren nodded, having every intention of transferring Terry a bit of cash for the meals. He felt bad taking food from the struggling family, and he knew just a few hundred dollars would help out. 

The sound of a vehicle honking made them glance towards the door, and Terry reached out to unlock it. When he opened the door, he saw a large black van in the driveway and four guards were waiting there. Terry put on his own coat and then motioned for Siren to follow.

“Goodbye, Delano, it was nice meeting you,” Lucy told him, “You’re welcome back anytime you like.”

Siren seemed to struggle for a moment to find the right words, and then averted his eyes. “...your grilled cheese was soggy,” he commented, quickly following after Terry.

As they approached the van, one of the guard’s opened the door for Siren to get in, but stopped Terry from approaching.

“Dr. Vess stated that there’s no need for you to return with Siren today,” the guard informed him, “He expects you to be at work the usual time tomorrow.”

Siren’s eyes widened. “Vess is going to kill me…” he said, “Kevin, he’s going to kill me!”

Terry had a feeling something was definitely going to happen, but he doubted Vess was going to kill Siren. Siren was too valuable and Vess was not an idiot. No, there would be repercussions for sure, but it wouldn’t be anything life-threatening.

“He’s not going to kill you,” Terry said with certainty, “You’ll be alright, just be calm and respectful when he’s talking to you.”

“Kevin…” Siren pleaded.

“I’m sorry, but if he ordered me to stay here, then I can’t come back with you. You’ll have to face the consequences of your actions on your own.”

Siren grimaced and then crawled in the van without another word. The van door was closed and Terry leaned in close to the other guard.

“What’s Vess planning on doing to him, Larry?”

Larry shrugged. “No idea, but Vess is **mad**. You should have heard the way he was scolding Michael Finnegan for his part in this! The whole floor could hear his rant, and I’m pretty sure Michael was thrown out of the apartment for the night!”

Terry nodded, hoping Vess wasn’t planning on having Siren beaten. Siren was still injured from last time, and he probably couldn’t take any more abuse.

The four guards all got back in the van and Terry watched as it sped away in the direction of the lab. Once the van was gone from sight, he let out a deep sigh, and then turned and headed back into the house.

Not a word was said to Siren the entire ride back to the lab, and when they arrived at the gate, a feeling of dread was settling into his stomach. He almost expected Vess to be waiting at the door for him, but there was no sign of him. The guards parked the van and then Siren was ushered into the building without a word. He was escorted straight to his room and the door was then locked after him.

Siren waited and waited and then waited some more, but Vess didn’t come. In an attempt to calm down, he took a long shower and got dressed in clean clothes, but there was still no sign of Vess. Sitting on his bed, he was bored and opened the tupperware of spaghetti to investigate, and gave it a hesitant sniff. It smelled acceptable and he didn’t see anything in it he didn’t like.

Taking the fork and poking through it suspiciously, he was certain nothing was being hidden in it. Although it was cold, he hesitantly tried a tiny bite. It was good, really good in fact. Siren was Italian American and one thing he had always loved was classic Italian dishes. He was incredibly particular about it however, and he normally wouldn’t touch it unless it was perfect. The spaghetti Lucy had made was Americanized, but her sauce was clearly homemade which he could appreciate. His grandmother used to make all her sauces from scratch, and he had spent most of his childhood helping her cook.

Siren was just finishing the spaghetti when he heard the door being unlocked. He looked up just as the door opened, revealing Vess standing there. Siren slowly set the tupperware aside and instinctively drew his knees up to his chest as Vess entered the room. Vess slowly closed and locked the door after him, his expression looking eerily calm. He pulled the chair away from Siren’s desk and placed it in front of Siren’s bed and then took a seat. Vess then stared at Siren silently, still looking much too calm considering the situation. 

Siren tensed up, knowing this was very, **very** wrong. Why was Vess calm? Vess shouldn’t be calm! Every instinct in his body was screaming danger, and he stared up at Vess nervously.

Vess stared at him for a few seconds more, and then he leaned forward slightly. “I want you to tell me exactly what you did wrong," he ordered.

Siren felt a surge of panic and the need to defend his actions. “I only wanted to go to the music store! If you need someone to blame, blame Michael! He was the one who offered to take me, and he’s the dildo who left me behind! If it wasn’t for **him**, I wouldn’t have gotten stranded there!”

Vess narrowed his eyes, but his soft and calm tone never wavered. "Do you want to lose your laptop? Or perhaps your shower privileges that I so **kindly** gave to you?"

Siren faltered, knowing he needed that laptop for his escape. "...No," he admitted slowly.

Vess’ eerie silver eyes met Siren’s directly. "Tell me exactly what you did wrong," he repeated.

Siren hesitated for a long moment. "...I left the lab?" he responded quietly.

Vess nodded, his face completely expressionless. "Yes, you did. Now, how much trouble do you think you're in?"

Siren felt like his blood was freezing, and suddenly he was very, **very** afraid of Vess. Hugging his knees to his chest, he could feel his heartbeat begin to speed up as fear began to course through him. A calm Vess was a dangerous Vess. He’d never seen him this angry before, and Siren felt completely cornered.

"Answer the question, Delano."

Siren tensed even further. Vess had just used his name. Vess **never **called him by his real name. Panicking, Siren once again tried to deflect the blame. "Michael's the one who took me out of the lab!"

Vess’ eyes turned dangerous, but his tone was still much too calm. "I'm not asking about Michael, I'm asking about **you**,” he responded, “How much trouble do you think you're in right now?"

Siren simply stared up at him, his eyes wide and quickly filling with tears. Vess was unmoved, and he once again leaned forward. 

"Don't make me repeat myself again."

Siren swallowed heavily and hunched his shoulders guiltily. "...a lot of trouble?" he quietly guessed. 

"Yes, Delano, you are in a **lot** of trouble... Sleep well." 

Vess then got up from the chair, turned towards the door, and left the room without another word. Siren stared at the closed door, and felt terror completely fill him. Vess was planning something, and Siren knew it was going to be horrible. Siren felt absolute panic consume him, and he knew all he could do was wait for the punishment to happen.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

It took nearly twelve hours for the plane to reach Kazakhstan, and the tension within the plane was almost unbearable. Mime Bomb and Le Chèvre were refusing to so much as look at one another, and they spent the entire flight on complete opposite ends of the plane. El Topo was furious with Le Chèvre and the two men had quietly argued between themselves before finally going silent as they both brooded.

Mime Bomb had calmed down, but his fury was evident to everyone. His expression was thunderous, and he refused to interact with anyone, simply glaring out the window. Even Zack couldn’t get him to sign with him, and eventually he gave up and simply took a seat beside him. Player sat across from Mime Bomb and when he took the mime by the hand, Mime Bomb glanced at him but allowed it. He could understand the way Mime Bomb must be feeling betrayed, and he just wanted to show his support.

When the plane landed, everyone was relieved, hoping the awkwardness would finally subside. Mime Bomb got to his feet before the plane had come to a full stop and turned to Zack to sign something.

“Shotgun?” Zack guessed, “Is that what you said?”

Mime Bomb nodded.

Zack looked concerned. “What about a shotgun? I know you’re angry at Jean Paul, but-”

“I think he means he wants to sit up front in the van,” Player interrupted.

Zack hesitated and then felt incredibly stupid. “...oh,” he replied, “Um, yeah, buddy, whatever you want.”

The moment the plane airstairs were lowered, Mime Bomb was first out of the plane and he headed straight for the van, carefully avoiding looking in Le Chèvre’s direction. 

Le Chèvre sat in the farthest seat away from Mime Bomb, not wanting any more drama for the day. Several people kept trying to start up conversations, but the atmosphere in the van was too awkward and eventually there was nothing but silence. Chase parked in front of the hospital and everyone piled out of the van, hoping Carmen would be able to diffuse the situation. 

Mime Bomb’s anger could be felt, and Zack and Player both walked by his side, offering their silent comfort beside him. When they entered Carmen’s hospital room, Player let out a laugh of delight and ran for Carmen’s bed, throwing his arms around her tightly. They had been best friends for years, been through a lot together and this was the first time they had ever met in person. Carmen clutched Player tightly, tears coming to her eyes, feeling happier than she could remember.

“I missed you so much,” she told him, “It’s so good to finally meet you in person!”

“I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time, but this is definitely not the way I expected it to happen!” Player responded, looking up at her with a happy smile.

Carmen then turned to Mime Bomb and held out her arms to include him in the hug. “Come on Mime Bomb, get over here! I missed you too!”

Mime Bomb’s expression softened, and he crossed the room, allowing himself to be pulled into the hug.

“I’m so sorry,” Carmen said quietly, “I failed both of you. It’s my job to protect you, but because of my stupid mistakes, I’m completely useless to the team. I’m sorry you two, I’m so sorry.”

“Red, it wasn’t your fault!” Player assured her, “I should have been more careful protecting my online presence! I was careless!”

“You’re a **child**,” Carmen responded, “You never should have been put in that position to begin with. I was young myself when we first met, and it never even occurred to me that we shouldn’t be involved in any of this. My world-view was skewed, and I put you in danger because of it.”

Player was shocked and he shook his head. “No, no, it was my decision!” he protested, “I chose to join you, and I chose to help you! None of this was your fault!”

Carmen hugged him even tighter. “No, it was my fault. I’m the adult, and it was my duty to keep you safe and I didn’t. You’re only thirteen, and it was selfish of me to use you like I did.”

Player adamantly shook his head. “No. I knew what I was getting into when I joined you, Red. I’m not some wide-eyed innocent little boy. I’m young, but I’m not stupid or naive. I should have been more careful, and I’m going to learn from this and make sure my defenses are impenetrable.”

Carmen slowly shook her head. “No, it’s not right,” she said firmly, “You’re too young for this, and I’m not going to endanger you any more.”

Player looked furious for a second, but then his expression relaxed as he thought about it. He could see things from her point of view, and knew she was just worried about him.

“I refuse to leave Team Red,” he said firmly, “I understand and acknowledge your concerns, but I make my own decisions, and I won’t stop helping you. Ever.”

“Player…”

“No,” Player interrupted, “I am aware of the risks, and I’m making the decision to continue being your tech guy. I refuse to be abandoned by you guys.”

“We wouldn’t be abandoning you!” Carmen protested, “We’d be protecting you!”

“Feels the same,” Player retorted, “I’m here to stay, and I’ll keep helping you no matter what you say.”

Carmen looked up at Shadowsan who was staring down at Player with a considering look, and then he gave a slight nod.

“Player is invaluable to our team,” he commented, “I think allowing him to continue aiding us would be in our benefit. More precautions should be taken, however, to ensure his safety.”

Carmen wasn’t expecting him to disagree with her and she stared up at him in surprise. “Like what?” she asked.

Shadowsan turned his gaze to Player. “We will allocate some funds for you to improve your equipment and security. Is this something you can do?”

Player immediately nodded. “I can make my security better than even V.I.L.E’s, but it will be expensive...**very** expensive.”

“We will give you whatever you need,” Shadowsan informed him, “You will remain offline until your security is fully set up and tested. You will only speak to us via com while offline.”

Player hesitated. “To be honest, I’m probably going to be grounded for all of eternity once I go home... I still have no idea what to tell my parents.”

“Yeah!” Zack cut in, “How are you going to explain where you’ve been for a month?”

“If you tell them you were kidnapped, it will involve the media and Interpol which could be problematic,” Chase pointed out.

Player frowned. He missed his parents a lot, but knew he could never tell them what really happened. “I’ll have to tell them I ran away,” he answered, knowing he was going to really anger and disappoint both of them.

“Will they believe you?” Carmen asked in concern.

Player shrugged. “I don’t know, but that’s what I’ll have to tell them. It’s probably going to get ugly…”

“They won’t beat you, will they?” Chase asked in concern.

Player shook his head. “No, of course not. My parents have never laid a hand on me my entire life. They’re probably going to ground me, and take away my computers and games though.”

“Should I accompany you just in case?” Chase asked worriedly, “Perhaps I can have a talk with them on your behalf? I could explain that you were having a hard time emotionally and you made the bad decision to run away?”

“...well, it honestly couldn’t hurt,” Player admitted, “Maybe if you’re there they won’t have quite as much of a blow-up.”

Chase was relieved that Player had agreed, knowing he would have worried if Player travelled back to Canada alone. He had promised Player’s mother that he would find him, and he would make sure she knew he had fulfilled his promise.

“When do you want to go home?” Carmen asked him, unable to hide the disappointment in her voice.

Carmen had waited years to meet Player in person, but she knew it was selfish to keep him away from his family any longer. Player could see the sad look in her eyes and he cocked his head, offering her a smile.

“Well, I’ve already been away for a month, so a few more days won’t make much of a difference…”

“I disagree,” Chase said firmly, “Think of how worried your parents are. Staying longer only makes their pain worse. With each passing day, their hope of seeing you alive again gets smaller and smaller. You need to go home to your family and hug your mother and father as tightly as you can.”

Chase’s eyes were filled with absolute anguish and he clenched his fists. Julia placed a comforting hand on his arm, and Player gave him a guilty look. Chase was seeing the situation from a parent’s perspective, and Player felt terrible when he realized his family believed he’d been murdered.

“Oh…” Player said in a small voice, “I never thought of that…”

Chase placed a gentle hand on top of Player’s head and offered him a sad smile. “You’re a good son, and you’ll do the right thing.”

“Stay for tonight and for just once our entire team will be together,” Carmen said, offering the boy a smile, “We should celebrate this occasion.”

“Oooo, a party!” Zack exclaimed in excitement, “We can have takeout and snacks and then watch a movie!”

“Sounds great, Red,” Player confirmed, “It’s seriously just so great to meet you guys in person.”

Mime Bomb’s expression was getting angrier and angrier by the second, but no one seemed to notice. Finally he reached out and pulled at Carmen’s sleeve to get her attention. She turned questioning eyes to him and when she saw his expression, she frowned in concern.

“Mime Bomb?” she asked, “What’s wrong?”

Mime Bomb turned to Player who gave him a nod, ready to translate.

“Why is Le Chèvre still a part of this team?” Player said as Mime Bomb angrily signed.

Carmen’s eyes widened. “Pardon?”

“Le Chèvre betrayed this team and he tried to send me to my death. **Why** is he still part of this team?”

“Hey!” El Topo protested, stepping forward, “He made a mistake, but he’s sorry he did it! He didn’t mean it!”

Mime Bomb turned furious eyes to him. 

“That doesn’t make anything better! Am I seriously supposed to just forget that he fucking sold me out to Vess to be killed?”

“Player!” Carmen scolded.

“That’s what he said!” Player defended, “I’m just translating!”

“Mime Bomb, I completely understand why you’re angry, but Jean Paul has acknowledged how badly he betrayed you and he regrets it,” Shadowsan said, “We’re all on the same team, and so we have to work together and forgive each other when we make mistakes.”

Mime Bomb scowled. 

“I’m sorry, but this is bullshit.”

“Mime Bomb!” Shadowsan scolded.

“No, I’m not ready to talk about this, I’m not ready to forgive him, and I’m not even ready to be in the same room as him. If Le Chèvre stays, then I go.”

The entire team stared at him in shock.

“Mime Bomb!” Carmen gasped, “You don’t mean that!”

“I mean it,” Player translated, “I need some time away from him, and then maybe I’ll be willing to talk. Right now I just need time to collect my thoughts.”

“What do you mean?” Zack asked in concern, “You’re not quitting Team Red, are you?!”

Mime Bomb glowered over at Le Chèvre before glancing back to Zack.

“No, but I need some time to think, and some time away from...everything.”

“And what exactly does that mean?” Carmen demanded in concern.

Mime Bomb stood hands on hips as he frowned in thought for a few moments. When he looked up, there was determination in his eyes.

“I’m going back to Wales to visit with Alys.”

Carmen blinked. “Wales?! You’re leaving Kazakhstan?”

Mime Bomb nodded.

“I want some time away from missions, time away from V.I.L.E, and time away from...**him**,” Player translated, looking extremely uncomfortable.

“That’s not fair!” El Topo once again protested, “Jean Paul made a terrible mistake, but he apologized to you! I understand that you are upset and I understand that it will take time before you trust him again, but this isn’t going to help! You two need to **talk** to each other.”

“Not a chance,” Player translated, “I didn’t choose any of this, it was forced on me. My entire life has been turned upsidedown and I need some time to think everything through. I need to speak with my grandparents, and I need to spend some time with my sister. Give me the time I need.”

Immediately several people began to protest, but Carmen held up a hand and the room went silent. She stared at Mime Bomb for a long moment and then beckoned him over. Mime Bomb hesitated for a few seconds and then approached, only to be pulled into a hug.

“I understand,” she told him gently, “I understand what it's like just needing a break from all of this.”

Mime Bomb gave her a surprised look, not expecting this. 

“Promise me you’ll be safe, and promise me you’ll call us every single day.”

Mime Bomb nodded and she hugged him even tighter.

“Please contact Dr. Brownswell as often as you can,” Carmen requested, “She’ll be able to help you with this, and hopefully you’ll be ready to come back to us soon.”

Again Mime Bomb nodded.

“When are you leaving?” Shadowsan demanded.

“The plane is still here, and so I want to leave immediately,” Player answered for Mime Bomb.

“Okay, buddy, let’s stop off at the hotel and grab our things,” Zack said, “We’ll have to get new raincoats before going to rainy ‘ol Wales though.”

Mime Bomb signed at him.

“Of course I’m coming!” Zack replied, “You’ll never be rid of me! The two of us are pals, and I’ll always stick by your side.”

Mime Bomb gave him a grateful smile.

“Yeah, Wales is going to be interesting,” Ivy commented, “I wonder if I’ll see any sheep?”

When Mime Bomb gave her a surprised look, she let out a laugh.

“After the disaster the last time I let you two knuckleheads out of my sight, I’m not making the same mistake again! I’m going with you to supervise things!”

Mime Bomb hesitated a moment as if he wasn’t quite sure how to react to that, but then he smiled at her and nodded.

“Great!” Ivy announced, “It’s settled!”

Carmen looked at the other three redheads and knew there would be no changing any of their minds.

The only thing she could do at this point was be supportive, and be patient.

“I still have a month left before I can leave Kazakhstan,” Carmen informed them, “Do you think a month will be enough time in Wales?”

Mime Bomb shrugged and averted his gaze.

“I understand,” Carmen assured him, “If a month isn’t enough time, then we’ll manage. Don’t worry about us, concentrate on taking care of you.”

“Say, Mime Bomb…” Zack commented.

Mime Bomb turned to look at him.

“Do we have to leave right this second or could we have one last group supper together? I’m starving and could really go for something carby.”

Mime Bomb glanced at Le Chèvre out of the corner of his eye and then glanced at Zack whose eyes were pleading with him. Mime Bomb let out a sigh and then signed towards him.

Zack let out a ‘whoop’ of excitement and then ran across the room towards the local restaurant brochure pinned to the wall.

“Awesome! I want something with meat and rice! Ivy, come take a look and help me decide!”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Siren clutched at his head and rested his chin on his knees. He rocked back and forth slightly, trying to calm down, but it was no use. He couldn’t sleep and his thoughts were in complete turmoil. All he could think about was Vess and what he might be planning for him. In the decade he’d worked with Vess, he’d **never** seen him this angry before. Vess was planning something, and the fact he hadn’t announced the punishment, made it all the worse. Siren’s imagination was running rampant, and he thought of horrendous tortures that made him feel sick and even more terrified.

Siren was exhausted, but every time he started to drift off, he’d suddenly jerk back awake fully expecting to see Vess looming over him. His anxiety was so bad that he began to rock and couldn’t seem to stop, just trying to comfort himself in any way he could.

When he finally couldn’t take it anymore, he got up and approached the door. Turning the knob, he discovered it was locked. Vess clearly wanted him to stay put. Siren let out a groan of misery, and glanced towards the clock. It was a little after six, and his door wouldn’t be unlocked until Terry arrived to work at eight.

Siren began pacing around his room, and when that only made him more agitated, he decided to take a hot shower. Entering the bathroom, he stripped down and then stepped into the shower as he turned it on. The heat normally relaxed him, but as he stood under the hot spray, he simply felt sick to his stomach. Sinking down until he was sitting in the shower, Siren simply sat there under the hot water, unable to think of anything else except for what Vess was going to do to him. Had he finally pushed Vess too far? Was the other man planning on having him executed?

Siren wasn’t ready to escape yet and had no idea what to do. If he left now he’d never make it far, especially with Vess already keeping him under lock and key. Siren took a deep breath, and knew he had to find out what Vess was planning. He couldn’t stand this, and not knowing was making him feel like he was losing his mind. Siren continued sitting under the stream of hot water, feeling more and more on edge as time went on. 

When a sudden knock came at the bathroom door, Siren nearly jumped a mile and a wave of fear coursed through him, certain it had to be Vess. Breathing fast, he stared with wide eyes at the door and didn’t move. There was a second, more urgent knock.

“Siren, are you alright in there?” came Terry’s voice.

Siren let out a deep breath, realizing it was time for him to go to work.

“Please answer me, Siren,” Terry ordered, “Did you dissociate in the shower again?”

Siren’s eyes widened. Again?

“What do you mean again?!” Siren bellowed out, “Did you see me naked?!”

“Oh good, you’re okay,” Terry replied, “You’re going to be late for work, so please hurry up.”

Siren scowled at the fact his question wasn’t answered, and he reached up and turned the water off. His anxiety then hit him full force again, and his stomach twisted painfully. He got dressed slowly and then brushed his teeth, feeling more and more on edge. It was now time to face Vess and whatever creatively horrible punishment he came up with.

Opening the bathroom door, he was met with the sight of Terry waiting for him anxiously and he noticed the other man looked him up and down. Terry then seemed relieved as if he’d expected him to be seriously injured.

“So what happened last night?” Terry asked, “What did Vess do?”

Siren said nothing and instead headed for the door, just wanting to get this over with.

“Siren?” Terry questioned, following after him, “What did Vess say to you?”

Siren ignored him and walked in the direction of the lab, feeling his heart pounding with every step. Vess was going to kill him. This was how his life was going to end. He should run, he should hide, he should fight. Siren did none of these things, simply continuing on his way, feeling like he was in a terrible trance.

He reached the lab, hesitated for just a moment, and then pushed open the door. Vess was seated at his desk working, and Michael was perched on the corner of the desk watching what he was doing. There was a dark bruise on Michael’s cheek, and Siren was willing to bet it was from Vess. They both looked up when Siren entered the lab, and for just a brief moment there was a flicker of guilt in Michael’s eyes. Vess however, simply went back to work without a word.

Siren took a deep breath, steeled himself and then headed over to Vess’ desk. Michael was expecting Siren to yell and throw a fit at him, but to his surprise, Siren completely ignored him, his attention entirely on Vess.

“Numa?”

Vess made a sound of acknowledgement, but he didn’t look up. Siren shifted on his feet, just wanting to get this over with.

“Numa, I know that I’m going to be punished for leaving the lab…”

“You are indeed,” Vess confirmed, his tone disinterested. 

Siren shifted again and waited, but Vess didn’t say anything more.

“Just tell me what you’re going to do to me!” Siren ordered, the stress evident in his voice, “Tell me, Numa, just tell me!”

Vess didn’t even bother looking up at him and began flipping through a stack of paperwork.

“Please,” Siren said, his tone plaintive, “Please just tell me!”

“I have scheduled a surgery Monday morning to have your vocal cords paralysed,” Vess replied as if he was discussing no more than the weather. “No punishment ever works on you and so I’m taking the only thing you care about. You’ll never be able to utter a single sound ever again.”

Siren felt like his blood had frozen solid. 

“You’ve been warned, and now you’ll face the consequences of your actions,” Vess explained, still not even bothering to look at him, “If you still continue to cause trouble after this, then your hearing will be taken as well.”

Siren had never been more terrified in his entire life. His voice. Vess was stealing his voice.

“You’re making him a mute?” Michael asked in surprise, “Daaaamn!”

Siren began to hyperventilate, feeling like everything was starting to become far away. It wasn’t real...this wasn’t happening. This was a nightmare, and he’d wake up soon and everything would be alright. Michael began chatting with Vess, and the words were a buzz of unintelligible noise to Siren, nothing feeling real. Closing his eyes, he tried to will himself to wake up, but when he opened his eyes, he was still standing in Vess’ lab.

“Siren?” Terry whispered in concern.

Siren didn’t react. Vess was taking away his only source of happiness, and soon Siren would forever be silenced. V.I.L.E had done this before, and Siren thought of the sweet and gentle little Yuri. They had stolen that child’s voice and now they were going to do the same to him.

Siren felt something within him crumble and without a single word, he turned and fled out of the lab. Siren was surrounded by colours and sounds, but none of it made sense to him as he fled. The boy. The boy whose voice was taken forever. He had to save the boy. He had to save Yuri. Where was the boy? He wouldn’t let them hurt him. The boy with the beautiful voice had to be protected.

Siren ran by instinct, and nothing around him made any sense and so he ignored it. All that mattered was making it to Yuri before anyone hurt him. He reached the boy’s room and a few moments later, he yanked the boy into his arms protectively. Vess wouldn’t get him. Siren would protect him.

“Siren!”

Siren was aware he was now sitting and he began rocking, fear filling his entire mind. Protect him. Protect him. Don’t let anyone take him. Protect Yuri.

“SIREN!”

Siren could feel the small boy in his arms squirming, and he clutched him even tighter, just wanting to protect him.

“SIREN! STOP IT!”

Siren rocked and rocked, feeling the boys heartbeat against his hands. No one would hurt him. No one would take his voice. He would fight to keep Yuri safe. 

“Siren, you’re hurting the little girl! Siren!”

Siren felt long hair against his hands, and a moment of confusion cut through the fear. Long hair? Yuri didn’t have long hair.

“Siren, let her go!” came Terry’s voice, “You’re hurting her!”

Siren’s wild gaze looked around the white room. Something wasn’t right… This wasn’t Yuri’s room..

“I’ll have no choice but to stop you,” the voice begged, “Please Delano, don’t make me stop you!”

Siren blinked and slowly looked down at the child in his arms. DD stared back at him, her large brown eyes filled with terror. 

“Yuri…” Siren said in confusion.

“Let her go,” Terry said softly, gently pulling at his hands to loosen them from DD.

“No, no, Yuri’s in danger…” Siren replied, “I have to help him!”

“There’s no Yuri here,” Terry said, leaning into his field of vision, “You’re hurting the little girl, Delano. You’re holding her too tightly. Please let her go.”

Siren looked down and saw he was clutching DD in his arms as tightly as he could and she could barely breathe. This wasn’t Yuri, this was DD. Yuri was long gone. Yuri wasn’t here, and the boy’s voice was already stolen. Siren swallowed heavily. And now it was his turn. It was **his** turn to have his voice stolen from him. 

Siren loosened his hold on DD, realizing he had no idea what he was doing. Raising his hands to his face, he began to sob hard, all fight leaving him as he slumped against the wall. Terry reached out towards DD, but to his surprise, she remained sitting on Siren’s lap and she threw her arms around him in a tight hug.

“Oh, Siren,” she whispered, tears coming to her own eyes, “It’s okay, don’t cry, please don’t cry. I’m okay, you didn’t hurt me!”

Siren couldn’t answer and simply cried harder, knowing Vess had finally broken him. Vess had won.

Siren continued rocking himself as he sobbed and a moment later, he felt Terry take a seat on the bed next to him. He felt a gentle hand rubbing his back, and Siren shook his head still unable to believe this was really going to happen.

Siren knew that he wasn’t willing to live without his voice. Vess would destroy who he was as a person, and Siren wasn’t willing to allow it to happen. If Vess took his voice, Siren would take Vess’ life in return. Siren would be executed without hesitation for doing it, but it would be worth it. Vess was a plague on humanity, and he never should have helped him.

He heard the sound of a ringing com and Terry answered it by the third ring.

“Hello?” Terry greeted.

“Is Siren with you?” Vess demanded.

Siren tensed when he heard Vess’ voice, and he began to shake even harder.

“Yes, Siren is with me,” Terry confirmed, “He’s safe.”

“Very good,” Vess replied, “Keep him out of trouble until his surgery Monday.”

Terry hesitated and then nodded. “Yes, Dr. Vess.”

“Contact me immediately if he tries to leave the lab again.”

“I will,” Terry agreed.

Vess hung up the call, and Terry looked down at Siren with pity in his eyes. He continued rubbing the smaller man’s back in an attempt to calm him down, knowing Siren just needed the comfort right now.

“Siren, we need to get you out of here as soon as possible,” Terry told him gently, “I’m not going to let Vess do...**that** to you.”

Siren shook his head. It was too soon to escape, and they would definitely be caught. It would be Terry and his family who would be held responsible. V.I.L.E would execute them all without hesitation. There was no way out of this that he could see. 

DD looked up at him, her eyes far too intelligent for her age. “What happened?” she asked, “Did Dr. Vess hurt you again?”

Siren swallowed heavily and wiped at his eyes, having no idea what to say. He had nearly harmed DD and had terrified her, and so he at least owed her an explanation.

“I’ve made Vess angry at me,” he whispered, struggling to get himself under control.

“How angry?” she asked somewhat hesitantly.

Siren simply sobbed and she tightened her hug. Siren had never been more scared in his entire life, and he had no idea what to do. Losing his voice was worse than death to him, he couldn’t stop shaking in absolute terror. Both Terry and DD simply sat with him silently, and after a few minutes, he began relaxing into the little girl’s hug. DD looked up at him, her large dark eyes concerned, and she used her tiny hand to wipe the tears away from his cheeks.

“How mad is Dr. Vess?” she whispered in concern.

Siren closed his eyes.

“Angry enough to hurt me,” he quietly replied, pulling at his hair in distress, “I fucked up big time.”

“Siren,” Terry scolded gently, “Language.”

DD studied Siren thoughtfully for a long moment, and then she gave him another hug. “Tell him you’re sorry,” she told him.

“This is beyond a simple apology,” Siren responded in despair.

“What did you do?” DD asked curiously.

“...I left the lab.”

DD gasped in horror. “Oh, that **is** a very bad thing!” she exclaimed worriedly, “Dr. Vess said I’m never **ever** supposed to leave the lab! Leaving the lab is against the rules! Tell him sorry right away, and promise not to do it again!”

“It’s more complicated than that,” Siren answered, looking down at her, “Vess is a heartless, emotionless demon, and an apology will never work.”

“It might,” DD countered, “Tell him that you’ll be good from now on and will never do it again.”

Siren scoffed at that. He could just imagine Vess’ expression if he actually tried that. It would certainly take him by surprise, that was for sure. Siren never apologized for **anything**. In the ten years he’d worked for Vess, he’d never apologized for anything unless he was being sarcastic or teasing.

Siren then paused. Vess definitely wouldn’t be expecting an apology from him, and it might throw him off his game. What if he wrote out an incredibly sincere apology, and swore he’d be well-behaved and compliant from now on? Perhaps it would be just enough to catch Vess off guard and he’d be willing to change his mind?

Other than outright murder, Siren didn’t see any other course of action, and knew he would have to swallow his pride and give it a try. Looking down at DD, he gave her a silent nod.

“Siren, who **is** this, and why is there a little girl in the lab?” Terry demanded, relieved to see Siren was finally calming down.

“This is Igor, she’s one of Vess’ experiments,” Siren replied.

DD let out a giggle. “My name’s not Igor!”

“Well, how do **you** know?” Siren shot back, “You don’t even **know** your real name!”

“Well, do **you** know it?” DD shot back.

Siren furrowed his brow as he realized he didn’t. “No,” he admitted, “I don’t.”

Siren knew he’d have to do a bit more research into Patient DD to see who she was and where she had come from. He knew nothing about her other than the fact she was around four or five years old and looked to be mixed race.

“Wait, wait,” Terry cut in, “Did you just say this little girl is one of Vess’ experiments?!”

Siren nodded. “He uses children to test his experiments,” he explained, “In fact, he’s expecting a shipment of children any day now.”

Terry gave him a horrified look. “What?!”

“This was why I destroyed the lab the first time,” Siren told him, “And this is why I’m going to destroy it a second time.”

“Are you serious?!” Terry demanded, “Vess is using children to experiment on?”

Siren nodded, and glanced down to DD. “When I escape, I’m taking Igor with me.”

DD’s eyes widened. “Escape?! No, no, no! Dr. Vess will be so angry if I escape!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Siren replied, “Vess will never see you again once you’re gone. He’ll never be able to hurt either of us again.”

DD looked terrified, but also a bit hopeful. “Never?”

Siren nodded. “I’ll find you a nice family, and you’ll never be hurt again,” he promised, “You’ll grow up far away from this shithole.”

DD frowned. “A family? No, I want to stay with **you**.”

“**Hell** no,” Siren immediately answered, “I don’t like people, and I’m perhaps the worst possible person to take care of a child. I’d probably end up accidentally killing you or something.”

“But...strangers are scary,” DD whispered.

“I was a stranger once too,” Siren pointed out.

“Yeah, but you’re too tiny to be scary,” she replied.

Siren scowled down at her. “Brat.”

“Bigger brat,” she countered.

“Where are your **real** parents?” Terry asked her, “Where did you come from?”

DD shrugged and looked up at Siren who also shrugged.

“Well, she must have come from **somewhere** !” Terry exclaimed, “**Someone** must be looking for her!”

Siren scratched at his chin thoughtfully. “Well, I guess that would be easier than trying to find a **new** family…”

Terry couldn’t believe what he’d just found out. “We have to stop Vess before he hurts anyone! We’ll call the FBI or something!”

Siren gave him a flat look. “V.I.L.E probably owns half the FBI. I’ll do some research and find other organizations willing to help us take this lab down. We have to do this extremely carefully.”

“And what about me?” DD demanded.

“I’ll look up your file to see where you’re from. If your family is suitable, I’ll return you to them. If not, I’ll find you a new family.”

Siren then gave Terry a thoughtful look, but he didn’t say what was on his mind.

Terry gave DD a worried look. “Siren, she’s too young to keep secrets. She’s going to accidentally tell someone.”

Siren shook his head. “No, Igor is a good little secret keeper. She won’t say anything.”

DD nodded with fierce determination. “That’s right! I protect my friends! I won’t tell mean old Vess anything!”

Terry was disgusted with V.I.L.E, unable to believe he’d willingly joined such an evil organization. He’d only been with V.I.L.E for six months and he was now deeply regretting it. He would take his family and return to Maine and never deal with V.I.L.E ever again.

Siren knew he had to change Vess’ mind before it was too late, and so he shoved DD off his lap, and then got to his feet. DD had landed awkwardly on the mattress and she shot Siren a glare, but didn’t comment.

“I’ll check on you soon,” Siren promised, heading for the door, “I need to write an apology letter.”

Terry glanced back at DD, and then hurried after Siren, feeling completely out of his depth. Siren hurried down and the hall and Terry jogged to catch up with him.

“Siren, do you really think Vess is going to change his mind about the operation?” 

“Probably not...but if he doesn’t, I’m going to stab him in the throat.”

Terry’s eyes widened, having no idea what to say to that. Vess certainly deserved it, but what would happen once Siren actually did it? Siren had said that so casually, and Terry didn’t doubt his words in the least.

Siren’s thoughts were on a certain red-headed boy as he walked along, remembering the horror of what was done to that little boy. The boy’d had so much talent, but it was all stripped away in an instant when V.I.L.E stole his voice. Siren remembered watching several of the boy’s performances on youtube when he’d been researching, and that was what had made him empathize so strongly with him. He had seen how V.I.L.E had stolen everything from the boy, and that’s when Siren had decided to turn on V.I.L.E the first time.

Siren made it back to his room, and the moment he was inside, he headed for his desk and took a seat. Opening several drawers, he looked for a pen and some paper, and then sat there having no idea what to say. Chewing on the end of the pen as he tried to think of something to say, Terry peeked over his shoulder. Siren glanced up at him.

“How do people normally apologize?” he asked.

Terry raised a brow, knowing this was definitely something out of Siren’s field of expertise.

“They normally start with the words ‘I’m sorry’,” Terry replied.

Siren scowled down at the blank piece of paper. “That’s stupid.”

“Well, an apology requires you to apologize and then admit your wrongdoing,” Terry explained.

Siren’s pride was feeling rather wounded as he picked up the pen, and then wrote the words ‘I’m sorry’ on the page. He stared down at the words and then immediately crumpled up the paper and tossed it in the nearby waste basket. No, this would never work. He would keep this professional, and perhaps Vess would appreciate the effort?

He wrote a few sentences and then paused to read what he’d written.

“_ Doctor Vesalius, _

_ I understand how my actions may have caused you inconvenience and that was not my intention. I did not consider how leaving the lab would affect the people around me, and I should never have left without permission. I should have approached you with the request instead of sneaking out with Michael. I will not make the same mistake again, and I hope we can put this incident behind us. _

_ -Siren” _

Terry read over his shoulder and then frowned. “That’s not an apology,” he pointed out, “You need to take responsibility for your actions, instead of wording it like everything was a misunderstanding. There **was** no misunderstanding, you did it on **purpose**, and you need to own up to it. Explain to him what you did wrong, acknowledge your mistakes, show regret, and use the words ‘I’m sorry’. Show him through words that you’ve learned from your mistake and it will never happen again.”

Siren did not look very happy, but he did crumple up the letter to start over. He then sat staring down at a new piece of paper, tapping the pen as he thought. He sat there for so long that eventually Terry gave him a nudge.

“Just start writing,” he suggested.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Siren admitted, “Everything I think of sounds so fake, and Vess will know that I don’t really mean it.”

“Well, imagine if your roles were reversed,” Terry suggested, “What kind of letter would make you forgive Vess?”

Siren looked up at him. “A suicide letter.”

Terry rolled his eyes. “Just try seeing things from his point of view. Tell him what he wants to hear, and try to sound sincere about it.”

Siren heaved a sigh and looked back to the paper. Frowning thoughtfully, he began to write, and write and then write some more. He paused a few times to gather his thoughts, and when he was finally finished, Terry gave him a nod. 

“This is good,” he praised, “Very good in fact.”

“I nearly puked like ten times while writing this,” Siren admitted.

Siren folded over the letter and placed it into an envelope. “Do you think this will work?”

“It’s all you can do,” Terry responded.

Siren nodded, and then dug inside his desk for something. Terry’s eyes widened when he saw it was a knife, and Siren slipped it into his pocket without a word.

“I’m going to bring this to him now,” Siren announced, standing up from the desk.

“Where did you get a knife?!” Terry asked in alarm, knowing Siren’s habit of stabbing people.

“What time is it?” Siren demanded, pretending he didn’t hear.

Terry frowned in disapproval and then glanced down at his watch. “A little after one,” he responded.

“Good. Vess would have just come back from lunch and so he’s going to be at his least grouchy right now.”

Siren clutched the letter tightly and knew his pride was about to be completely annihilated. Taking a deep breath, he left his room and then walked down the hall in the direction of Vess’ lab. Terry followed right behind him, hoping this wasn’t going to end in bloodshed.

Siren was visibly nervous as he walked, and he kept one hand in his pocket where the knife was. When they reached the lab, Siren paused for just a moment and then pushed open the door. Vess was busy working and Michael was sitting off to one side quietly playing on a Nintendo Switch. Vess glanced up at him as he entered, and he seemed a little surprised to see him. Siren approached his desk and Vess set down his paperwork, expecting a huge Siren tantrum. When Siren silently held out the envelope towards him, Vess raised a brow in question and reached out to take it.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Please just read it,” Siren requested, his hand closing around the handle of the knife.

Vess’ curiosity was now piqued and so he opened the envelope and pulled out the letter. He unfolded it and glanced at it, and then his eyes widened in surprise as he read.

“_ Numa, _

_ I’m sorry. _

_ I know you’re already skeptical, but please keep reading. I really _ ** _am_ ** _ sorry. I was selfish, and I never once thought of how my actions would affect you. I knew what I was doing, and there was no excuse whatsoever for what I did. I’ve treated you horribly the entire time we’ve been lab partners, and that wasn’t fair to you. I’ve been a bitter and miserable asshole for ten years, and it’s unprofessional, and unacceptable. You’ve always treated me well, and I threw your kindness right back in your face. _

_ I needed the reality check you gave me this morning, and I understand you felt like this was your last resort. I’ve been thinking about everything all morning, and I know that I need to change. I’m sorry I’ve put you through so much trouble, and I’m incredibly grateful for the patience you’ve shown me. It’s taken a while, but I now see I need to grow up. _

_ I left the lab which was both foolish and incredibly dangerous. There are people who want me dead, and if I was kidnapped or murdered, it would hurt V.I.L.E and affect your research. I took a stupid risk just to look at a few cds, and I now realize how ridiculous I was being. The rules are in place for a reason, and I purposely broke them. I lied to you, stole a guard’s uniform, left the lab, and then roped Michael into my scheme. I owe Michael an apology as well since it wasn’t fair to involve him. _

_ You saved my life after my accident ten years ago, and I’ve done nothing but make your life difficult. I owe you everything and I've never even thanked you for it. I should have been grateful and done everything I could to help you, but I was angry and selfish. I took out my frustrations on you and that wasn’t fair. From this point on, I am going to report to the lab on time, professionally dressed and ready to work hard the entire day. I will do all work without complaint, and I promise I will never do anything as foolish as this ever again. _

_ I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me and give me one last chance. I won’t let you down again. _

_ I’m truly sorry, _

_ Delano _”

Vess looked up from the letter with a bewildered and somewhat skeptical expression on his face.

“**You** wrote this?!” he questioned.

Siren averted his gaze and gave him a nod. “I’m sorry, Numa,” he said quietly, his hand tightening on the knife.

Vess was close enough that with one quick swipe of his hand, he could slit his throat. The second that Vess rejected his apology, he was a dead man. Vess was completely silent as he stared at Siren, and Siren could feel himself beginning to nervously sweat as he waited for the other man’s response.

Vess stared at Siren with narrowed eyes, suspicious but also incredibly surprised. In the ten years he’d known Siren, the other man had never once apologized for **anything**, or taken any sort of responsibility for his own actions. Siren was immature and spiteful, and Vess would have never expected this from him. He glanced back to the letter, and could tell by the messy writing that Siren had indeed written it himself.

“Do you really mean this?” Vess demanded.

“I do,” Siren confirmed, “It’s time for me to grow up.”

Vess glanced back to the letter and was honestly a little impressed that Siren had apologized in such a professional manner. Was Siren even capable of keeping the workplace respectful? He was skeptical that Siren could keep his promises, but the intent was still there. He could live with a bit of annoyance, but if Siren even kept **half** his promises, the lab would be a lot less miserable.

Vess then realized with surprise that he had finally found a punishment that worked against Siren. After ten years of yelling at him, hitting him, taking away his possessions, **this** was what it took to get him to finally comply. He finally had a way to control Siren. Vess was delightfully surprised, and he decided he wanted to see how this played out.

“Alright, Siren,” Vess told him, setting the letter down, “I accept your apology.”

Siren’s eyes widened in surprise and he let go of the knife. “You...you do?”

Vess nodded. “From now on, I expect a basic level of human respect and professionalism from you. You will work hard and without complaint from now on, and you will follow the rules.”

“So...I get to keep my voice?” Siren asked hopefully.

Vess gave him an imperious look as he nodded. “For now,” he replied.

Siren let out a visible breath of relief. Vess then turned to Michael who was shamelessly eavesdropping on the whole conversation.

“Michael, Siren has something to say to you,” Vess stated.

Michael glanced to Siren, and then approached, looking incredibly smug with the situation. Siren immediately tensed.

“You stated you owed Michael an apology, and so go ahead,” Vess instructed.

Siren tensed further, feeling humiliated and angry as Michael smirked at him.

“Go on,” Michael teased, “Let’s hear it!”

Siren turned his gaze to the floor and remained silent.

“You did mean what you said in the letter, didn’t you?” Vess demanded, a warning edge to his tone.

Siren’s cheeks coloured and he kept his gaze firmly on the ground. “I’m sorry, Michael,” he stated, wishing he could punch the other man in the face.

“For what?” Michael teased, his smirk becoming even more infuriating.

“I’m sorry I involved you in my stupid scheme,” Siren replied, hating every second of this.

Michael grinned and crossed his arms. “Oh, I dunno, you don’t really seem sorry enough to me. Maybe I shouldn’t accept this apology?”

Siren was furious and closed his eyes, trying his best to control his temper.

“Michael, knock it off,” Vess ordered.

Michael rolled his eyes. “Fine. Apology accepted.”

Vess could see how humiliated Siren was and was surprised at how well the other man was controlling himself. It appeared that Siren really **did** mean what he said.

“From what Michael has told me, and also from what you wrote in your letter, it’s clear to me that you remember more than you let on.”

Siren looked up sharply. Oh shit.

Vess steepled his fingers together as he stared straight into Siren’s eyes. “You will tell me everything you remember of the Volkov experiments.”

Siren swallowed heavily. Vess knew. Vess knew. VESS KNEW. If Siren told him everything he knew, Vess would finish the experiments within three months and then it would be game over. He needed to delay him.

“I’ve been starting to remember a few things…” Siren admitted.

Vess leaned forward eagerly. “Like what?” he questioned.

Siren knew he had to tell Vess something true otherwise the other man would never believe him. “I know why so many of your patients end up blind or deaf.”

Vess was instantly all business. “Tell me everything in complete detail,” he ordered.

Siren nodded, and pulled a chair over to take a seat. “Let me see your research papers and I’ll show you where you went wrong.”

Siren knew that if he worked closely with Vess on the experiments he could find little ways to foil Vess’ research all while appearing to be helpful. He just needed to be very, **very** careful.

“I don’t remember everything yet, but I want to help you, and I’ll do my best to figure it out.”

Vess was already grabbing files out of his desk, a manic and excited look in his eyes. He was **so** close to completing the experiment, and he felt like Siren would be the key.

“Let’s go over everything together,” he ordered, opening the first folder.

Siren nodded, and had a feeling this was going to be a difficult few months.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

“Dash?” Crackle called out towards the row of tents, “What’s taking you so long? We need to get started on the work!”

“I’m getting ready!” Dash snapped from inside one of the tents.

“You need any help?” Neal teased, approaching the tent.

“Go fall down a well, Neal,” Dash responded, unzipping the tent.

As Dash crawled out, Neal stared at him in complete surprise. Dash was wearing overalls, boots, a work shirt and a hardhat, his expression completely annoyed. He wasn’t wearing any makeup, and his freckles were on full display. This was the first time Dash had ever dressed down, and Crackle gave a nod of approval.

“You actually look like a regular person!” Neal exclaimed in surprise.

Dash immediately took a step towards him and raised a fist. “You take that back, slimeball!”

“I didn’t mean anything by it, love,” Neal assured him, “I’ve just never seen you looking so casual.”

“I look disgusting,” Dash complained, “If anyone sees me like this, I’m going to lose all credibility as a designer.”

“Why?” Roosevelt asked, looking confused, “We’re all dressed the same. I think you look fine.”

Dash scoffed at him. “You **would**,” he commented, turning to look at the others, “Well, what are we all waiting for? Let’s go inside this shack and get it over with.”

Crackle could have pointed out that they’d been waiting for Dash for the last twenty minutes, but he didn’t. Instead he simply pulled a key out of his pocket and motioned for the others to follow him. The stairs were rickety and full of holes and as they went up, the wood creaked and bowed beneath them.

There was suddenly a loud crunch, and when they looked back, they saw Roosevelt's foot had gone right through one of the stairs.

“You okay?” Theodore asked him, helping him get his leg out of the hole.

“Yeah,” Roosevelt responded, simply looking annoyed, “These stairs aren’t safe. We should rebuild them first so no one gets hurt.”

Crackle nodded his agreement. “We can do that today,” he told him, “It won’t take us very long to build a new deck if all of us work together.”

Dash flipped open his sketchpad and then glanced from the house to the deck as he began a quick sketch. “I’ll finish this design after we inspect the house,” he informed everyone, “If we’re building a deck, we might as well expand it a bit so we can all fit on it.”

“We’ll have to figure out the costs of the lumber first,” Otterman informed him, “Our budget is incredibly small.”

“We can bring you with us to the hardware store so you can decide what we can afford,” Moose Boy stated, “but I don’t want you trying to lift anything!”

Otterman nodded, and then looked over to Dash. “We’ll have to work together on the designs to make sure we don’t go over budget on anything.”

Dash grimaced at that thought, but he nodded all the same.

“Alright, now let’s give the inside a good look-over!” Crackle announced, approaching to unlock the door.

It was then that Crackle realized the door was off its hinges and simply leaning against the house. Lifting the door out of the way, he set it aside, and then motioned for the others to follow him as he stepped into the house.

Neal was the one to step in after him and he immediately cringed at what he saw. Every wall was falling apart, and the ceiling was sagging so low it almost touched the top of his head as he walked under it. Thick cobwebs were everywhere he looked, and piles of garbage were absolutely everywhere. Graffiti was across every surface and there was a massive hole in the middle of the floor. Neal simply stared for a moment and then turned to look at Crackle in disbelief.

“Mind the hole,” Crackle called out.

Dash took one step inside the door and then promptly turned around and left again.

“Dash, get back in here!” Crackle ordered.

Dash glared at him from the doorway and crossed his arms.

“You’re the designer and so I need you in here,” Crackle informed him, “We’re going to be cleaning up most of this mess today, so stop being a drama queen.”

Dash scowled at him, but to Crackle’s surprise, he came back in without a word of protest. Dash flipped open his sketchbook and then began sketching out the first room as fast he could.

“Does anyone have a measuring tape?” he demanded.

Crackle nodded and removed one from his belt. “I do.”

“I’ll need someone to measure each room for me so my designs can be as accurate as possible.”

“I can do that,” Crackle replied, immediately measuring the walls around him.

The twins were standing very, **very **still, the floors beneath them groaning in protest every time they moved. The twins were over four hundred pounds each, and they were concerned they were going to fall right through the floor at any moment. Moose Boy was following along behind Otterman like a puppy and he was quick to steer the smaller man away from the gaping hole in the floor.

“Is it as bad as I think it is?” Otterman demanded as he squinted at the walls around him.

“Sure is, Svenny!” Neal announced, clapping him on the back, “We’re all going to die when the house collapses on us!”

Crackle shot Neal a glare. “The foundation and support beams are solid,” he replied, “The house isn’t going to fall down.”

“Hmm,” Neal replied, not sounding convinced.

Paper Star wandered from room to room silently and her expression was thoughtful. “I claim the attic as my bedroom,” she announced.

Crackle turned to look at her. “The attic? Why the attic?”

Paper Star gave a shrug. “I like the feel of it, and it’s the most private room in the house.”

Crackle knew Paper Star probably didn’t like sleeping in the same room as a bunch of men and couldn’t blame her for wanting her own space. He gave her a nod which seemed to please her, and she disappeared again into one of the other rooms.

“Oh my god…” Dash exclaimed in horror upon seeing the main bathroom.

The once white bathroom was covered in rust, flakes of dirt, suspicious brown stains and the bathtub looked like something had died in it.

“That porta-potty’s not looking so bad now, right fancy?” Neal teased, peering over his shoulder into the room.

“Everything in here needs to be removed and then burned,” Dash commented in disgust.

“The bathroom is going to be our first priority after the stairs,” Crackle assured him, “Do you have any ideas for it?”

Dash crinkled his nose and glanced around. “This is very small for a main bathroom,” he commented, “I doubt the twins could comfortably fit in here.”

Crackle looked around and had to agree. “Maybe we could knock out the closet in the room next to here to get a bit of extra space?”

“That would work,” Dash agreed, “That would give us an extra three feet of space to work with. We could further utilize space by replacing the bathtub with a large shower.”

“That sounds like the best option,” Crackle said, watching as Dash made a few quick sketches, “You should go with Sven and Henrik to the hardware store to pick out what you need.”

“Right now?” Dash asked hopefully.

Crackle nodded. “Get the hardware store to deliver the lumber and supplies as soon as possible. Listen to Sven, and don’t go over budget.”

Dash nodded, and fled the disgusting bathroom, just glad to be able to leave the house for a while.

“Alright, let’s go,” Dash announced to Otterman.

“We’re coming too,” Theodore announced, falling in step behind them, “We can help lift things for you.”

Dash had a feeling they were just uncomfortable standing on the flimsy floors, but he didn’t comment, simply giving the two men a nod. 

“I’m changing into something more presentable before we leave,” Dash announced as they headed for the door.

“No, you’re not!” Crackle called after him, “You’re not wasting that much time! You look fine!”

Dash shot Crackle a glare over his shoulder and then left the house without a word. It was embarrassing to walk around looking so rough, but he felt resigned to his fate. The only pleasure he took from this was how horrified Cleo would be if she could see him now. He could picture the disgust and horror on her face, and it lightened his mood considerably.

“I’m driving,” Roosevelt announced, pulling the car keys out of his pocket.

As they piled into the van, Dash glanced back towards the house just in time to see a rat run out of the front door. 

Dash’s good mood instantly evaporated.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

[[Stop pouting,]] Matryoshka scolded, glancing over at her brother, [[You can’t wear leather in hundred degree heat. Another 5 minutes wearing that costume and you would have died.]]

Plague Doctor sat arms crossed beside her in the car and he simply stared out the window silently. He was now wearing white shorts and a purple polo shirt that one of the henchmen had given him, and it was obvious he wasn’t happy with this situation.

Matryoshka looked him up and down, her gaze settling on his pasty white skin. [[You need to go outside more often. It's hard to tell where the shorts stop and your legs begin.]]

Plague Doctor shot her a glare out of the corner of his eye, but otherwise ignored her.

[[While our men scour the city, we can just relax at the hotel or look around town. It’s best we leave the grunt work to them.]]

Plague Doctor frowned, not liking the idea of sitting idle while others got to do more exciting things. He felt like it was his responsibility to find Otterman, especially considering he had almost sliced the other man in half. He tuned out Matryoshka as she blathered on and on about the luxury accommodations they were staying at, and instead stared out the window at the buildings as they drove along.

Downtown was crowded and loud, and as they sat at a stoplight, Plague Doctor stared at the people on the sidewalk. His gaze fell on a taco truck and he marvelled at the idea of getting food while walking down a sidewalk. As he stared at the truck, his gaze shifted to the man waiting in line. The man was massive and blond and he recognized him as part of Otterman’s team. Letting out a gasp of surprise he turned and grabbed a hold of Matryoshka’s arm.

He then pointed but the blond man was already disappearing into the crowd.

[[What?]] Matryoshka demanded, [[What is it?]]

Plague Doctor jabbed a finger frantically towards the window, but when she looked out, she didn’t see anything. Knowing the man was going to get away, Plague Doctor ripped off his seatbelt and then opened the car door just as the car started moving. He hopped out into traffic and there was instantly the blaring of horns and the screeching of tires as he ran across the four lanes to get to the sidewalk.

“Dmitry!” Matryoshka called after him from the car, but he didn’t stop, quickly disappearing into the crowds.

Plague Doctor ran as fast as he could in the direction he’d seen the man go, but there was no sign of him. Knowing the man could have gone into any of the nearby shops, he began going into shop after shop but he still couldn’t find him. Where could a seven foot tall man possibly hide? He stepped back outside and looked around, but it was like the man had simply disappeared. It was then that he saw the man drive past him in a massive black van.

Plague Doctor knew there was nothing he could do at the moment and so he quickly pulled out his cellphone and snapped a picture of the license plate number as the van passed by. He stared after the van as it disappeared down the street and then glanced down at the picture. The license plate was a bit blurred but he could still make out all the characters. Incredibly hot and out of breath, Plague Doctor headed back where he had come from, glad he at least gained a little bit of knowledge.

Once back at the hotel, he’d see if he could look it up and find out where Otterman’s team were staying. He doubted the address listed would be legit, but it was always worth a shot.

When Plague Doctor got back to where he’d gotten out of the car, he wasn’t at all surprised to see the car was gone. Figuring his sister would get the driver to circle around a few times looking for him, he took a seat on a nearby bench, feeling like he was melting under the hot sun. His eyes then fell on the taco truck in front of him and he stared at it long and hard before standing up to approach it. He read the menu as he waited in line, and once it was his turn, he pointed to what he wanted on the menu and then pointed to the nearby slushie machine.

“Five dollars,” the cook told him, “You want everything on it?”

Plague Doctor nodded and passed over a five dollar bill. Only seconds later, he was handed a wrapped taco and a blue slushie. Taking a seat back on the bench, he unwrapped the taco and stared down at it curiously. It looked edible and so he took a hesitant bite, instantly loving the meat and grease. The sun was blazing hot and after five minutes of sitting there, he was quickly feeling uncomfortable. He was nibbling on the taco as he waited, and when he saw the garish purple car stop in front of him, he simply stared at it and didn’t move.

Matryoshka rolled down the window and the relief was evident in her eyes. [[Where have you been?!]] she demanded, [[You nearly got hit by a car!]]

Plague Doctor didn’t answer and took a sip of his slushie.

Matryoshka’s eyes fell on the taco in his hand and she narrowed her eyes. [[Dmitry, I swear to god if you jumped out of a moving car for a taco, I’m going to slap your teeth down your throat! Where did you even get that?]]

Plague Doctor silently pointed to the taco truck and Matryoshka’s eyes widened in horror.

[[You bought it from **that**?!]] she exclaimed.

Plague Doctor nodded.

[[You are the heir to the Volkov empire, a long line of rich and noble men! Volkovs do **not** eat street food cooked by a greasy man in a truck!]]

Plague Doctor popped the last bite of taco into his mouth and then tossed the wrapper into the nearby garbage can. He then got up and approached the car, his sister opening the door for him.

[[You’d better have a good explanation for this,]] she warned as he buckled himself in, [[You worried me.]]

Plague Doctor passed his phone over to her and she glanced down at the photo of the black van.

[[Was this him?!]] she asked excitedly, [[Did you see Sven?]]

Plague Doctor shook his head.

[[Was it one of his teammates?]] Matryoshka asked hopefully.

Plague Doctor nodded and took his phone back.

[[Excellent, so they **are** here! Text that picture to me so I can forward it to the men. It shouldn’t take more than a few days to locate their base.]]

Plague Doctor simply nodded and took a sip of his slushie. Matryoshka eyed the slushie for a moment and then reached out and plucked the cup from her brother’s hand. She took a sip and then pulled a face and handed it back.

[[Ugh, that’s terrible,]] she commented, [[It tastes like liquid sugar. I don’t know how you can drink that crap.]]

Plague Doctor gave her a shrug and Matryoshka then leaned over to look at him a bit closer.

[[Huh,]] she commented, poking him on the arm, [[I think you’ve already gotten a sunburn…]]

Plague Doctor glanced down at his bare arms and sure enough the skin was looking red and sore. He let out a deep sigh having a feeling he was really going to hate San Diego.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Julia let out a cry as she was struck in the stomach. She fell to her knees in agony, and a moment later, she was kicked hard to the ground. She rolled several feet and then laid there for a long moment, wheezing in pain and feeling the sweat beading on her forehead. A shadow fell over her, and she looked up at the man looming over her.

“Again,” Shadowsan ordered, crossing his arms impatiently.

“I...I just need a minute,” Julia wheezed out, feeling completely exhausted.

“Were you not the one to ask me to teach you to fight?” Shadowsan demanded, his tone firm.

“Yes,” Julia confirmed.

“And were you not the one who wanted to be able to fight alongside us against V.I.L.E?”

Julia nodded. “Yes,” she said again.

“Then get up and show me what you can do,” Shadowsan ordered.

Julia took a deep breath, and then struggled back to her feet. She shifted her feet into the stance Shadowsan had shown her, and then launched herself straight at him.

Julia had been training hard all month and she knew she still had a long way to go before she was anywhere near as good as the others when it came to fighting. Shadowsan had little else to do at the moment and so he dedicated most of his afternoons to training her to the best of his abilities. Sometimes the others joined their training sessions, and Julia was beginning to learn how every fighter had their own fighting style. Julia had yet to discover what her own style was, simply imitating Shadowsan for the moment.

Chase often paired with her, and she learned to dodge since she was no match for his strength. Chase lashed out with a boxer’s punch, and he was fast and accurate. Chase always went easy on her however, and it was clear he didn’t want to accidentally hurt her as they trained.

Carmen had been getting stronger each and every day and she was now able to walk for short distances if assisted. It was extremely hard on her, but she was stubborn and pushed herself to walk a little further every single day. Her new liver was steadily growing and she was no longer in any pain, but her stamina was almost non-existent. It was almost time for them to return home to San Diego, and she was looking forward to leaving the hospital.

Player had gotten grounded for three months upon his return home, his parents furious that he had ‘run away.’ He’d had to endure multiple brutal lectures and his mother insisted on taking him to see a therapist to find out why he had run away. All his video games, computers, and phones were taken away from him, and the only thing he was left was his ear-com since his mother didn’t know about it.

Player had to be careful since he was being watched so closely, but he still found time to contact Carmen several times a day. He was banned from his computer until the school year began and now that school was back in session, he was able to continue helping Carmen investigate the Russian lab.

El Topo and Le Chèvre had been a bit distant at first, but when it was clear Carmen held no ill will towards Le Chèvre, they began trying to spend more time with the rest of the team. They trained and hung out with the team, but they also spent hours everyday with just the two of them.

They went on long walks together, and the two men were rarely seen not holding one another’s hand. Carmen was happy for them, and hoped once V.I.L.E was brought down, they would be able to have a long and happy life together. She hoped they’d **all** get to have happy lives, especially Mime Bomb.

Mime Bomb had kept his word and he and Zack and Ivy video called the rest of the team every single day. The vacation was definitely doing Mime Bomb some good and he seemed a lot more relaxed and his anger seemed to have mellowed a bit. Alys had been absolutely ecstatic at the surprise visit, and Mime Bomb had told her everything that had happened with Volkov.

Mime Bomb carefully avoided his maternal grandmother at all costs, instead staying at the nearby bed and breakfast. He had called his paternal grandparents his first night in Wales and with Zack as a translator, and they spoke for hours. His grandfather was very open with him and answered all of his questions without hesitation. He told him all about the history of the Volkovs and what sort of business they were into, and to Mime Bomb’s surprise it was all white collar crime. The Volkovs ran multiple businesses and invested heavily in the stock market, and they had no dealings with V.I.L.E.

Several times Mikhael hinted around about Mime Bomb going to university, but Mime Bomb simply changed the subject each time. At one point, Annika snatched the com from her husband and gushed at Mime Bomb in Russian affectionately. Neither Mime Bomb nor Zack had any idea what she was saying, but it sounded complementary and so they simply nodded politely along to what she said. Mikahel then took the com back, said a few scolding words to her in Russian and turned back to Mime Bomb.

“She knows you don’t yet speak Russian, but she has been incredibly worried about you. It would be nice if you say hello to her every now and then.”

Mime Bomb nodded and Mikhael then began speaking about the different family members. When he began telling Mime Bomb about Michael Jr., Mime Bomb visibly tensed up. 

Mikhael told him how MJ had come to live with him when he was fifteen or sixteen after he had run away from home with the Finnegans. MJ had gotten along with his grandparents well at first, but they kept running into an issue when it came to authority. MJ wasn’t used to following rules and was spoiled and rebellious. Eventually he was going to run away again and so Mikhael had come up with a compromise. He allowed MJ to go to work as a spy against V.I.L.E and the Finnegans as long as he remained in contact. MJ had gladly accepted, and he called them at least once a week. He had tried to learn Russian for his grandmother, but he had a lot of trouble with it. He visited them every Christmas.

It was unsettling to hear stories about Michael Jr., and Mime Bomb didn’t want to know these things. Michael Jr. was an evil monster and he didn’t want his grandfather to humanize him. He wanted to hate Michael and he wanted nothing to do with him.

Mime Bomb spoke with his grandparents several times a week during his stay in Wales, and it was obvious Mikhael had great expectations of him. He was really pushing university at him, and Mime Bomb wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Finally after three weeks of nagging, he had told his grandfather that he would consider enrolling into university for next September. This had greatly pleased Mikhael and he had praised him and then quickly ended the call so he could tell Annika the good news.

Mime Bomb wasn’t sure what he’d be doing next year, but if V.I.L.E was taken down and Team Red dissolved, then he likely **would** like to go back to school. He doubted he would ever want to take over the Volkov empire, but if things went well, he would like to know his grandparents.

Mime Bomb spoke daily with Dr. Brownswell and she was helping him work through his anger at Le Chèvre and the rest of the team. She didn’t know the exact details about what happened, but she knew there had been a serious betrayal and a lot of hurt. Mime Bomb was still furious at Le Chèvre, but at least now he no longer wanted to punch him in the face. He doubted they would ever be friends, and he doubted he’d ever be able to fully trust him again.

Zack and Ivy were enjoying their time in Wales as well. Ivy took hundreds of pictures, and made friends at Alys’ tavern, while Zack mostly spent his time with Mime Bomb as they explored every inch of the tiny village. It rained almost every day, but that didn’t dampen their spirits in the least. When Carmen called them midway through October that the team was finally returning to San Diego, they finally felt ready to go back.

They would return to San Diego, and they would work together to take down Vess’ lab.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Siren felt like he was walking on eggshells the entire next morning. He made sure to show up for work on time, and like he promised, he didn’t say one word of complaint even when Vess piled double the normal amount of work on his desk. He ignored Michael completely, not trusting himself not to bicker, and instead focused entirely on work for the entire morning. He was so focused on what he was doing that he didn’t even notice when he’d been working for four hours straight.

Vess was honestly impressed by this new work ethic and he hoped it lasted. Glancing down at his watch, he saw it was now nearly twelve-thirty.

“Lunchtime, Siren,” Vess stated, glancing up at him, clearly expecting him to protest.

Siren simply nodded and got to his feet without a word.

“You may take your lunch as well, Terrence,” Vess said to Terry, “Try to get him to eat an acceptable amount, otherwise the nurse will be by with the syringe.”

Siren grimaced but he didn’t say a single word. The shift of power in the room was obvious, and Terry shot Siren a concerned look. Siren remained silent and left the lab, Terry following closely at his heels. The moment they were a safe distance away, Siren let out a furious curse.

“I hate him,” he hissed, “I hate him **so** much!”

“Just hang in there,” Terry whispered, “You’re doing really well.”

Siren heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how I’m going to stand being Vess’ workplace bitch for the next several months. You have no idea how many times I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself today.”

“But you didn’t,” Terry pointed out, “You were able to control your temper and appear compliant. Keep it up, I’m proud of you.”

Siren groaned and then gave a nod. “Do I really have to sit in the cafeteria for an hour watching you eat?”

“Well, you could eat lunch too,” Terry pointed out.

“We both know that’s not going to happen. I don’t like the food here.”

Terry rolled his eyes and they walked along in silence towards the cafeteria. All conversations halted when they entered and every single person stared at Siren like he was a walking timebomb. Siren glared at everyone around him, and they quickly went back to eating their lunches. As Terry went to collect his lunch from the fridge, Siren approached where several guards were lined up to buy food. Shoving his way past them, he grabbed a Pepsi out of one of the coolers.

“That will be 1 VILE buck!” the coffee girl informed him.

Siren cracked open the Pepsi and then turned and walked away, leaving the girl to simply stare after him.

“Well, alright then…” she responded.

When Siren joined Terry at one of the tables, he gave the smaller man a look of disapproval. 

“Did you just steal that Pepsi?”

“No,” Siren lied, taking a sip.

Terry sighed and decided he didn’t feel like dealing with it. His lunch bag was a bit heavier than normal and he wondered what Lucy had made for his lunch. Pulling out several sandwiches and cookies, he was surprised at the quantity.

“That cookie has my name on it,” Siren pointed out.

“What?” Terry questioned, glancing down at the cookies.

Sure enough, one of the cookies had ‘Delano’ written on it in icing. He then noticed one of the sandwiches had Siren’s name on it as well.

“It appears my wife sent you lunch today…” Terry commented in amusement.

Lucy had been worrying about Siren ever since he left, and she’d clearly wanted to make sure he was eating. Siren frowned at the food and made no move to touch it.

“Why?” Siren demanded.

“It seems somehow you managed to make Lucy like you,” Terry replied.

This only caused Siren to frown further. “That doesn’t make any sense,” he argued, “**No one** likes me!”

Terry shrugged and took a bite of his own sandwich. Siren stared long and hard at the sandwich and then hesitantly reached out to take it. Unwrapping it, he saw it was on white bread with no crusts and cut into triangles. He opened the sandwich and saw it was smooth peanut butter. Lucy had gone out and bought him smooth peanut butter. Siren’s stomach twisted guiltily as he thought of the bare cupboards and nearly empty fridge. Setting down the sandwich, he reached a hand out towards Terry.

“Let me see your com for a second.”

Terry hesitated. “Why?”

“I need to log into my V.I.L.E bank account for a second,” Siren explained.

Terry narrowed his eyes, instantly suspicious. “You swear that’s all you’re going to do? These coms are monitored and I don’t want you getting me in trouble.”

“Yes, yes, I swear,” Siren said impatiently.

Terry reluctantly handed over his com and Siren immediately began typing on it to log into his account. The enormous balance made him feel even more guilty and he set up an e-transfer to Terry’s employee number. He debated on how much to send, knowing Terry likely wouldn’t accept a large amount. After debating for a moment, he sent him $400. Logging out of his account, he handed the com back and then picked up a piece of the sandwich. 

Terry was about to put his com back in his pocket when it dinged. Unlocking the com, he glanced at the notification and then looked over at Siren.

“Did you just send me $400?” he demanded.

“...maybe.”

“Why did you send this to me?” Terry demanded, instantly irritated, “I’m sending this back to you right now!”

As Terry began typing on his com, Siren quickly snatched it away from him. “No, that’s for you!” he scolded, “Don’t send it back!”

Terry’s brow furrowed. “Why are you sending me money?”

Siren looked away. “You need it…”

Terry’s face flushed. “My family is doing just fine! We may not be rich, but we have everything we need! I don’t accept charity, and it’s not right that you sent this to me!”

“It’s my decision and I want you to have it!” Siren argued, “Stop being stupid!”

Terry let out a sigh and softened his tone. “Look, Del, you’re mentally unwell, and I’m not taking advantage of you by taking your money. It’s not right, and it would be dishonest of me to accept it. I’m going to send it back to you.”

Siren glared up at him. “Then consider it payment for food,” he replied.

Terry raised a brow in question.

“Your wife sometimes makes acceptable food, and so if she sends me a lunch every day, it’s only fair for me to compensate you for it.”

Terry let out a sigh. “We don’t mind giving you a sandwich,” he pointed out, “You don’t need to pay for it.”

“I want to,” Siren answered firmly, “This way I owe no one any favours.”

“Delano…”

“Then we’ll ask Vess,” Siren stated, knowing Vess didn’t care how he spent his money, “I’ll tell him I’m buying lunch from your wife from now on.”

Terry sighed, but then gave a nod. He doubted Vess would ever approve such a thing, and maybe that was what Siren needed to hear.

“Well, if you’re paying for that lunch, you’d better eat it,” Terry commented.

Siren eyed him for a moment and then handed him back his com. Without a word, he took a bite of the sandwich, and found the texture of everything was exactly right. He ate incredibly slowly and by the time he was done his one sandwich, Terry had long-since finished his own lunch.

“You’re not going to eat your cookie?” Terry questioned.

Siren looked down at it for a few seconds and then picked it up. “No, I’m going to save it for later,” he told him.

“Don’t let it go to waste, Lucy’s cookies are to die for.”

Siren nodded and finished his Pepsi as he watched Terry gather up their garbage. Getting up from the table, he tossed his empty can in the garbage, earning him a disapproving frown from Terry. After Terry had cleaned up after them, he headed for the door and Siren trailed along after him, noting that everyone was still watching him.

Siren scowled at the guards and left the cafeteria, knowing it was now time to return to the hell that was Vess’ lab. When they entered the lab, Vess glanced up briefly, his gaze zeroing in on the bag Siren held.

“What’s that?” he demanded suspiciously.

“A chocolate chip cookie,” Siren replied, taking a seat back at his desk.

“Does that mean you actually ate something?” Vess demanded.

“He ate quite well,” Terry replied, “He had a sandwich and a drink.”

Vess nodded and then set down his paperwork. “I need to make a few calls and will be gone for about an hour. Don’t leave the lab, and I expect your work to still be completed.”

Siren nodded silently, and reached for his laptop. “Numa?”

Vess glanced over at him. “What?”

“I’m going to be paying Kevin’s Lucy to make my lunches from now on.”

Vess glanced over at Terry for an explanation. 

“He likes my wife’s cooking and he wants to arrange for her to make him meals everyday. I told him that he doesn’t have to pay, but he keeps trying to get me to accept money from him.”

“And why does any of this concern me?” Vess demanded.

“I have concerns about accepting money from him because…” Terry trailed off, not wanting to upset Siren, “of the issues he has. I don’t believe it’s ethical.”

Vess turned to Siren. “How much were you planning to send him?”

“$400 to pay for her time and groceries,” Siren replied.

“Approved,” he responded, turning towards the door.

Vess had expensive tastes in food and that seemed like an insignificant amount to him. 

“Don’t touch my desk while I’m gone.”

The moment Vess was gone, Siren glanced over at Terry who was frowning at him. Terry honestly hadn’t expected Vess to approve that. It felt wrong and he didn’t like it.

“Well, if you’re paying this much for lunch, I want you to write out a list of foods you’ll eat and how you want them prepared. You’re the fussiest person I’ve ever met, and I don’t want you wasting the food Lucy makes for you.”

Siren glanced down at the cookie. He had memories of helping his grandmother bake cookies, and those were happy memories for him. He’d loved cooking with her, and he still remembered all of her recipes. He thought of DD living alone in the basement, and he felt guilty. She had no such memories and she’d probably never even tried a cookie before. Her childhood had been terrible, and the guilt ate at him. Siren poked the cookie with his index finger and decided that maybe he would share it with her after work. 

Turning his attention back to his laptop, Siren pulled up the skype app and dialed Roundabout’s number. It rang several times before Roundabout answered, and the moment he saw who it was, he sat up straight in his seat.

“Siren,” he greeted in surprise, “I didn’t think you would call me back.”

“Did you mean what you said about wanting to stop Vess’ experiments?” Siren demanded.

Roundabout reached up and adjusted his glasses and then gave him a nod. “I **refuse** to be a part of child experimentation. I honestly thought V.I.L.E had standards, but now I’m not so sure…”

“If you meant what you said, find a way to stop the shipment of children that are on their way here.”

Roundabout’s eyes widened. “When are they due to arrive?”

“I heard Vess speaking on the phone and the snowstorm delayed them by two days, and so they should be here on Wednesday at the earliest. If those children make it here, I can do nothing to protect them.”

Roundabout nodded. “Do you know what sort of vehicle they’re being transported in?”

Siren nodded. “They’re both military vans with the V.I.L.E insignia on it. There are twenty children crammed on the first van and another fifteen on the second. If you can stop them, it will take a while before Vess can arrange to get new ones.”

Roundabout nodded, a fierce determination in his eyes. “My contacts will find the vans,” he promised, “What are you doing on your end?”

“Not much yet,” Siren admitted, “What do you know of Team Crackle?”

“They defected.”

“Yes, I know, but where are they?” Siren demanded impatiently.

“Why?” Roundabout countered, “Did you have anything to do with them defecting?”

Siren shook his head. “No, Double Trouble are my brothers, and I know they'll come for me if they know I’m here. I’ve searched the V.I.L.E records, but there’s no information about where they are.”

“We don’t know where they are either,” Roundabout admitted, “They seem to have completely disappeared.”

“I need to find allies that will help take this lab down,” Siren informed him, “I couldn’t reach Volkov, and I don’t have any other contact information.”

“I can provide you with all of Team Crackle’s phone numbers, but they haven’t been picking up.”

“Give them to me anyway,” Siren ordered, eager to get any information he could.

Roundabout nodded and then typed on his computer for a moment. He read off each com number and who it belonged to and Siren nodded, committing them all to memory.

“Do you have any numbers for Carmen Sandiego’s team?”

Roundabout gave him a surprised look. “There is no way her team will be willing to help you. They’ll think it’s a trap.”

“Vess shot and killed their leader and I bet they’re out for blood. They already hate V.I.L.E and if I offer Vess up on a silver platter, they might be willing to help take this shithole down.”

Roundabout gave him a considering look and then nodded. He turned back to his computer and typed for a few seconds.

“These numbers may be out of date, but these are the numbers I was able to acquire for Carmen Sandiego’s teammates.”

Roundabout read them off, and Siren hoped that he would at least be able to get a hold of one person.

“My laptop is now secure and so you can message me at any time. Leave me a text at the number I’m going to type into chat and I will either respond by text or call you back when I can.”

“I want you to keep me informed of everything that happens,” Roundabout ordered, “I want to know precisely what’s going on in that lab.”

“There’s a lot that Bellum, Maelstrom and Vess are up to right now,” Siren replied, glancing towards the lab door, “I’ll type up a report and send it to you. I don’t have a lot of time right now, and Vess could return from his meetings early.”

Roundabout knew how careful Siren had to be and nodded. “Send that report as soon as you can. Send it to my private com.”

“Fine,” Siren agreed, “Let me know when the trucks are seized.”

“I will,” Roundabout promised.

Siren ended the call without saying goodbye, and then turned to Terry. “See if Vess is coming,” he ordered.

Terry nodded and peeked out the door. “All clear,” he called over.

Siren immediately began calling his brothers’ numbers over and over and over, but there was no answer. He tried the rest of the team with the same results. Knowing he didn’t have much time, he then tried the Team Red numbers. None were picked up and he felt somewhat discouraged. He tried again and to his surprise it was picked up.

“Hello?” said the voice of a young boy, “Is this you, Red?”

Why was a child answering one of team red’s coms? The number he called was supposed to be for the team’s tech guy, but there had to be some sort of mistake.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

Siren hit the trace, and waited as the computer began feeding him information about the caller. This would definitely require a bit of investigation. The computer located the caller, and he saw they were in Ontario, Canada. He disconnected the call without ever saying a word.

Gotcha.

  
  
  


**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Team Red Base**

**October 15th**

Team Red barely had a chance to relax once they got to the base, and Carmen got a call from Player before she’d even removed her jacket. Carmen was almost back to her usual self, but her stamina was still extremely low, and she got out of breath easily. Shadowsan insisted she still use the wheelchair for a few more days, and she’d given in without too much of a fight.

“I’ll be right back,” she told the others, wheeling out of the room to take the call.

Carmen was gone for about ten minutes and when she returned, she didn’t look very happy.

“Team Crackle are making a move for the Orlando museum today during the fire drill,” Carmen informed everyone, “Player thinks someone from V.I.L.E has been trying to hack into him, and so he’s been fighting off the attack by improving his defenses. He’s going to be offline during this mission.”

Tigress let out a long groan. “Those bozos certainly don’t waste any time, do they? Ugh, I’m still jet lagged.”

Shadowsan frowned at Carmen worriedly. “You’re not ready for a mission!”

“I’m **going**,” Carmen said, shooting Shadowsan a ‘look’. “I won’t be doing much to help, but I’ll still be onsite to offer support.”

Shadowsan shook his head. “No, it’s too soon,” he said firmly.

“I am sick of doing nothing. I’m going,” Carmen informed him, “You can either come along or stay out of my way.”

Shadowsan narrowed his eyes. “Don’t be foolish,” he scolded, “You can barely walk without exhausting yourself! I will **not** allow you to put yourself in danger! You need to rest and you need to recover!”

“**No**,” Carmen responded, gripping the handles of her wheelchair as she struggled to her feet, “I am through watching everyone else stand up to V.I.L.E on my behalf. I am the leader of this team and I will act like it.”

“Our security is still down in the base,” Chase pointed out, “Someone needs to stay here to guard the base.”

Carmen knew he was just saying this in an attempt to make her stay behind and she narrowed her eyes.

“Fine,” she agreed, “Mime Bomb, you’re staying behind.”

Mime Bomb was instantly to his feet, shaking his head, but Carmen held up a hand to stop any protests.

“You will stay behind and inform us if anyone tries to get into the base. You will keep the doors locked at all times, and stay here.”

Mime Bomb crossed his arms, and was clearly angry over this, but he knew it was ultimately Carmen’s decision.

“Why Mime Bomb?” Zack protested, “He wants to help against V.I.L.E! We just re-joined the team like ten minutes ago!”

“I want Mime Bomb to stay behind because V.I.L.E are still after him. This mission might be a trap to capture him, and I’m not taking any chances” Carmen responded, “Who knows what Vess has planned for him. I won’t allow it to happen.”

Mime Bomb looked mutinous and he signed something that made Zack pause.

“What did he say?” Carmen demanded.

“He said ‘Then you expect me to just stay at the base for the rest of my life? I’ll never be able to help the team again?’”

Carmen’s expression softened. “No, of course not,” she assured him, “We just need to be cautious until we take Vess down. We know his lab is in Russia, and we know that he’s isolated from the rest of V.I.L.E. Once that lab is destroyed, it should be safe for you.”

“And when will that be?” Zack translated.

“...I don’t know,” Carmen admitted, “Player is doing his best to find the exact location of the lab. We’re doing everything we can to find it.”

Mime Bomb was clearly angry, and he turned and stormed away into the other room, ignoring Zack calling after him. Once he was gone, Carmen let out a sigh.

“I know it’s not fair to him, but we really don’t want to risk it,” she said, turning away.

“But yet you will risk **yourself** ?” Shadowsan challenged, “You have learned **nothing** from your experience in Kazakhstan. You are still just as impulsive and foolhardy as ever!”

“That’s not fair,” Carmen responded, her brows knitting in frustration, “I need to do this. I **need** to prove to myself that I'm still of use to this team!”

“Of course you’re still useful, Carm!” Ivy assured her, “We understand that you need to recover, and you don’t need to prove anything!”

“I need to do this for **me,** ” Carmen replied, “I **need** things to go back to normal.”

“This is foolish,” Shadowsan commented, “You cannot fight in your condition, and you’re going to get hurt!”

“I have to agree,” Le Chèvre commented, “You’ll be a liability.”

Carmen turned a glare on him, and El Topo quickly stepped forward to divert the coming argument.

“What if Carmen stays in the van to direct the mission?” he suggested, “She can monitor everything on her laptop, and also keep look-out?”

Shadowsan frowned. “I still do not like it, but I think it is the best option in this circumstance.”

Carmen let out a deep sigh, but knew there was no way she could physically take part in the mission.

“I’ll help from the sidelines,” she promised.

Zack glanced towards the other room and frowned worriedly. “Do you think Mime Bomb will be okay here by himself?”

“Are you asking to stay with him?” Carmen asked in amusement.

Zack gave her a sheepish look. “I get worried about him,” he admitted, “Especially when he’s upset.”

“It’s fine, I can drive,” Ivy assured her brother, “Stay here with Mime Bomb and keep him company.”

Zack looked to Carmen who gave him a nod. “It’s okay, Zack. If you want to stay, there’s no problem with that. We’ll be back in the morning.”

Zack nodded. “Can you drop me off at Frankie’s on your way? I’ll grab us a pizza and then try to cheer him up.”

“Sure thing, bro,” Ivy said, clapping him on the back, “We have plenty of time to drop you off before heading for the museum.”

As Team Red headed out of the base, Mime Bomb watched them go from his bedroom window. Once they had driven off, he turned away and crossed the room towards Zack’s soundsystem. Pulling his iPod out of his pocket, he plugged it in and then selected a playlist.

Fifteen minutes later, Zack walked into the base whistling jauntily to himself. He paused when he heard loud music blaring from down the hallway, and furrowed his brow in confusion. What was Mime Bomb doing down there? Setting the pizza and soda on the nearest table, he headed for the bedroom, the music getting louder and louder the closer he got. Standing outside their shared bedroom, Zack hesitated and then pushed open the door. The sight that met him was not one he was expecting at all and he stopped dead in his tracks.

Mime Bomb was standing on top of one of the beds, holding a pretend microphone and mouthing the words to the deafening loud metal music. He was jumping all around, eyes closed and he clearly had no idea Zack was there. Zack watched him as he put on a whole show like he was performing the song himself, and Zack found himself smiling. Mime Bomb had never shared any of his interests before, and Zack had had no idea the other boy liked rock and metal.

He remembered that Mime Bomb had loved performing as a child, and he suddenly felt really bad when he realized he likely still wanted to, but just couldn’t because of his muteness.

Mime Bomb performed with all the flourish and grace as if he was in front of an audience, and Zack simply watched him silently, impressed and tempted to clap as the song ended.

Mime Bomb suddenly opened his eyes and when he saw Zack standing in the doorway, he froze. His expression was completely mortified and his entire face was quickly turning bright red. Zack could see the tears and panic in the other boy’s eyes, and it was obvious he was completely mortified. Zack wanted to reassure him it was alright, and so he made a split second decision and then jumped up on the other bed. To Mime Bomb’s surprise, Zack held a pretend mic to his mouth and began lip-syncing along with the song while jumping all around wildly.

Zack over-exaggerated every movement, and his dancing was clumsy and awkward, but he didn’t care. He jumped from one bed to the other, and then looked over at the other boy.

Zack grinned over at Mime Bomb, who hesitantly returned the smile. Zack motioned for him to join in and then made a big show of handing the ‘mic’ over to the other boy. Mime Bomb laughed and then reached out and accepted it. Zack and Mime Bomb performed the rest of the song together, and Zack was in stitches by the time it was over. Mime Bomb then paused the playlist, also laughing hard and still mildly embarrassed.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me you like this kind of music?” Zack asked.

Mime Bomb gave a self-conscious shrug and averted his eyes.

“I couldn’t understand anything they were saying, but it was a lot of fun anyway!” Zack told him, “Will you show me some of your favourites?”

Mime Bomb hesitated and then reached for his Ipod. Scrolling through his playlist, he came to what he was looking for and hit play. Turning the volume down so he could hear Zack, he took a seat on the bed as Zack did the same.

“So, who are these guys?” Zack asked.

Mime Bomb signed, and Zack nodded in understanding. “Unleash the Archers? Cool! Never heard of them. I like their sound!”

They listened to a few of the songs and Zack made a point to ask all about the band and Mime Bomb enthusiastically told him about how he had found one of their cds back when he lived in France and had loved them ever since. Zack had never seen Mime Bomb so excited and he felt like this was a giant leap in the right direction. Perhaps now that Mime Bomb saw he didn’t have to hide his interests, he’d be more open to him about other things.

“I got us pizza,” Zack told him, standing up, “I’m gonna grab it and then let’s have some fun and perform the rest of this playlist!”

Mime Bomb smiled at him and nodded.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**Wow, this was a long chapter! lol Next chapter will likely be just as long, **

**There are some very dark scenes in the next chapter, and please make sure to read the trigger warnings that will be posted at the beginning of the chapter. You may want to give the chapter a skip if you are bothered by mentions of physical and sexual assault. Nothing is graphically mentioned, but it is talked about. Be warned.**

**A huge thank you to the super-talented artists who did artwork for this chapter!**

**Violetfic created so many awesome pics this chapter! She created the pics of Le Chevre, Matryoshka, Lucy and Terry, Silver-eyed Vess, Mime Bomb, Zack, and Ivy. Terry, Siren, and DD, and Kick-ass Julia  
**

**Coulrosaurus coloured the pic of Mime Bomb, Zack and Ivy!**

**MelodyMeddly created the pic of Carmen in bed, and Carmen and Player hugging**

.

**Credit for the names of Otterman and Moose Boy go to Animedemon01**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**

**Please don't forget to let me know what you think! **


	32. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone!
> 
> WARNING  
WARNING  
WARNING  
READ THIS WARNING
> 
> This chapter is incredibly dark in places and could be triggering for some people. Please read this carefully before choosing to proceed with the chapter. This chapter discusses extreme child abuse, sexual assault, murder, strangulation, and contains a scene which could bother those with claustrophobia. If you are bothered by any of these things and choose to read anyway, I don't want to hear any complaints. Proceed with caution.
> 
> There is one more chapter after this before there's a timeskip to December where the Christmas fic takes place. Even if you've already read the Christmas fic, it has been completely re-written to include things I had to leave out the first time due to spoilers. The Christmas fic will likely be four short chapters.
> 
> An enormous thank you to the very awesome Violetfic and Coulrosaurus for offering plenty of good suggestions, and for being my betas! They both seriously offered SO many suggestions for this fic that they both deserve some recognition! You guys really helped improve this story a lot and you're awesome!
> 
> Please note that Dr. Vess and Michael Jr. both use the F-word extremely frequently in their everyday speech. You have been warned. Dr. Vess was created by Violetfic, and I am using him with her permission.
> 
> If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 32**

**Family**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

  
  


“Dammit, Neal!” Otterman snarled, “I swear if you touch that cashbox one more time, I’m going to bludgeon you with it!”

Neal smiled widely, and gave him an innocent look. “I put my receipts in the box just like you ordered us to,” he pointed out, “What seems to be the problem?”

Otterman scowled at him and held up one of the receipts. “This money is for necessities **only**! We can’t afford this! Forty-three dollars for cheetos and beer? I want that money back!”

“It’s been two months of frugal spending, love, give me a break.”

Otterman adjusted his glasses and continued glaring at him. “I don’t care what you have to do to get it, but I expect forty-three dollars back in this box by the end of the day! We still need to somehow pay for a new roof and I have no idea how we’re going to do it!”

Neal let out a sigh and rolled his eyes. Otterman was perhaps the stingiest person he’d ever met, but he’d managed to keep them afloat so far by carefully controlling all spending. It was mostly Dash that had the fights with Otterman, the designer not liking the minuscule budget. Dash had expensive tastes, and he wanted the new base to be high class and fancy, but they simply couldn’t afford it. The two men were always arguing, but it was always Otterman who won in the end.

“What if I get at least forty-three dollars worth of roofing materials instead?” Neal suggested.

“And how would you do that?” Otterman demanded, crossing his arms.

Neal grinned at him. “Does it matter?”

Otterman sighed. “I suppose not, as long as you don’t get caught shoplifting. Fine, I either expect forty-three dollars in cash, or a hundred dollars worth of roofing supplies.”

Neal simply shook his head, knowing the other man would do anything to save a few dollars.

“Alright, my stingy Swede, I’ll see what I can do,” Neal replied, turning to walk away.

Otterman had his little ‘office’ set up underneath the large oak tree since it was the only spot on the property that was always shaded. At first the others were a bit resentful over the fact he didn’t have to do any physical work, but they quickly came to realize he had the worst job out of anyone. He was getting more and more stressed trying to stretch their very limited funds, and if it wasn’t for the fact all of them shoplifted, they never would have been able to do it. He was constantly price-checking every item they needed, trying to find the best price for everything in town, and they were frequent shoppers at the goodwill and demolition store. 

When Dash began approaching his ‘office’, Otterman heaved a sigh and closed the cashbox. Dash was clearly ready for a fight and he had his shoulders squared and expression set into a scowl as he held out his notebook towards Otterman. Otterman accepted the notebook, held it close so he could see it and looked over the design Dash had come up with.

“I need this approved,” Dash informed him, “It’s the design for the common room.”

Otterman shook his head and handed the notebook back. “Denied,” he stated, this being a word he used pretty much non-stop with the other man.

“Why?” Dash demanded angrily, “I’ve already reduced my design to the bare minimum! This is a completely reasonable price for that room!”

Otterman shook his head again. “Too expensive.”

“It’s essential!” Dash insisted, holding the notebook out towards him.

Otterman gave another quick glance to the design, gave a glance to his ledger and then shook his head. “No, it’s not. Nothing about that design is essential.”

Dash slammed the notebook down and looked angry enough to throttle him. “I hope you choke on that stupid ledger of yours!” he snapped.

Otterman rolled his eyes. “Have some water, Dash, you’re looking overheated.”

Dash glared at him but he did reach over and open the nearby cooler to grab a cold bottle of water. It was then that Paper Star pushed him out of her way so she could speak with Otterman.

“I need twenty dollars,” she informed him.

Otterman reached into the cashbox, removed a twenty and handed it over without protest.

“Thanks,” Paper Star responded, turning to walk away.

Dash was instantly outraged. “You didn’t even ask her what it was for!”

“Paper Star doesn’t waste money on three hundred dollar plastic beads,” he answered, giving Dash a meaningful look.

Dash crossed his arms. “Those beads are designer **and** on sale! They would have **made** that common room!”

“Still way out of budget for one room,” Otterman informed him, “Buy some beads at the dollar store if that’s the design you want.”

Dash sputtered indignantly and then stormed away without even dignifying that with a response. He took a seat underneath the avocado tree beside the house, and then opened his water. As he sipped at it while scowling in Otterman’s direction, his com suddenly began to ring. Pulling the com out of his pocket, he expected it to be the faculty and was prepared to turn the phone off. The head faculty had been calling all of their coms pretty much non-stop for two months straight, but Crackle had forbade them from answering. Dash glanced down at the screen and was surprised to see it was Sterling Silver who was calling him. He hesitated a moment and then glanced over in Crackle’s direction. The other man was busy building a bed frame and wasn’t paying any attention. Dash accepted the call and a moment later, Sterling’s face appeared on the screen.

“Dash?” Sterling exclaimed in surprise, looking at the other man in disbelief.

Dash was dressed like a construction worker, covered in what looked like mud and he wasn’t wearing any makeup at all. Sterling simply stared at him in awe. Sterling’s hair and makeup was as perfect as always, and Dash suddenly realized how he must look to him.

Dash self-consciously wiped a bit of dirt off his face and frowned at the other man. “I’m a bit busy, Sterling, what do you want?”

“I honestly wasn’t expecting you to pick up,” Sterling admitted sheepishly, “You wouldn’t believe what’s been happening since you left!”

“Oh?” Dash questioned, “Cleo have a fit?”

“Understatement of the century…” Sterling replied, “When she found out you had faked your facial injury, she went absolutely ballistic. She ripped apart all of the clothes you had designed, and lit your bedroom on fire. It was a bit bad considering my room was beside yours and I woke up to my room on fire.”

“Did you make it out safely?” Dash asked in concern.

Sterling nodded. “I just grabbed my violin and ran for it. That entire tower is gone now. I’ve been staying with the assistants on the lower floor for now, and Cleo was furious that I had lost everything in the fire. She blamed **me** of course, but seeing her flustered expression when I reported to work in my pajamas was worth it. She had to buy me a whole new wardrobe and I swear it nearly killed her to do it.”

Dash let out a snort of amusement. “How did Cleo find out I faked the injury?”

“The faculty all saw your fight with the Cleaners and The Void!” Sterling informed him, “I saw it with Cleo and you were absolutely amazing! I never knew you could fight like that! Cleo’s been obsessively replaying it over and over every time she gets drunk.”

Dash’s eyes widened as he realized there must have been cameras in the warehouse. So much had been going on at the time that he hadn’t even noticed.

“I suppose Cleo wants me dead?” Dash guessed.

At this, Sterling laughed. “No, the faculty desperately want you guys back. They never knew how well your team could fight, and they realized how stupid they were by driving you away. They've been doing everything they can to find you, but they haven’t had any luck yet.”

Dash’s eyes widened. “They want us back?!”

Sterling nodded.

“After we killed the Cleaners and betrayed them?!”

Sterling nodded a second time.

“The head faculty have been calling all of our coms, but we just ignore the calls,” Dash admitted, “We’re not going to be returning to V.I.L.E.”

Sterling gave a shrug. “I don’t blame you,” he commented, “This whole place is bloody rubbish.”

“Why are you still there?” Dash questioned, “You’re not an operative and you could have quit at any time.”

“Well, to be honest, after you left, Cleo became a lot more tolerable to be around. I think she was scared I’d leave too, and so she stopped being so horrible to me. I mean, she’s still a bint but at least she doesn’t try to make me cry anymore.”

“Really?” Dash asked in surprise, “That’s very unlike her…”

Sterling grinned. “You were her favourite, and the fact you were willing to fake a facial injury just to get away from her hit her hard. She was under the impression everyone loved her, and I think reality was a shock to her. I actually get most evenings off now, and she hasn’t made any comments about my violin.”

“If you ever need help disappearing, just let me know,” Dash told him, “I don’t trust Cleo’s new ‘kindness’ in the least.”

“Neither do I, but it’s nice for now at least,” Sterling answered, “She’s certain you’ll return one day, and she has one **hell** of rant prepared for you! She’s been practicing the lecture for like two months now, and it’s pretty awful.”

Dash rolled his eyes. “I won’t be returning to V.I.L.E,” he replied, “And I’ll certainly never willingly speak with **her** again.”

“Is your team ever going to accept one of the faculty’s calls?” Sterling asked, “I think they’re starting to get pretty desperate.”

Dash gave a shrug.

“Everyone, get back to work, breaktime is over!” Crackle called over when he noticed no one was doing anything.

Dash sighed.

“Who’s that?” Sterling demanded.

“That’s just Graham,” Dash responded, turning the com so the other man could see Crackle.

“Oh, he’s cute!” Sterling commented, “He sort of has that rugged mountain boy thing going on!”

“Don’t waste your breath, he’s straight,” Dash responded.

“You sure?” Sterling asked with a wink.

Dash rolled his eyes. “One hundred percent certain,” he answered, “He kisses like an uncomfortable teen after a bad breakup.”

“Ouch,” Sterling responded with a laugh.

“Wait, when did you kiss Graham?!” Neal demanded, leaning around from behind the tree.

Dash let out a startled screech and swung out at Neal on reflex. Neal winced at the slap, but he still looked at Dash expectantly.

“You kissed Graham?”

“What the **hell** were you doing lurking behind me?!” Dash snarled, “Were you eavesdropping on my conversation?!”

“I was here first, love,” Neal informed him, “you’re the one who sat near **me**!”

Dash flushed as he realized Neal had overheard everything. Sterling stared at Neal in complete disgust, looking him up and down in morbid fascination.

“Ew, what is **that**?” he demanded.

“That’s Neal the Eel,” Dash answered, “He’s just a greasy pest, and don’t pay him any attention.”

“Harsh, love,” Neal responded, “Are you even supposed to be chatting with people from V.I.L.E?”

Dash gave him a deer in headlights look, and Neal gave him a cocky grin.

“Graham is going to be pissed at you, fancy, you’d better end that call before he notices.”

“Notice what?” Graham asked from right in front of them.

They looked up and saw the Aussie standing over them, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

“Bye,” Sterling said, disconnecting the call.

Crackle stared at Dash long and hard for a moment, and then held his hand out for the com. Dash reluctantly passed it over and Graham looked at the call history and saw the name Sterling Silver.

“You were speaking with Countess Cleo’s executive assistant?” he demanded, tone icy.

Dash simply nodded, having no excuse for disobeying Crackle’s orders.

“You took the call despite me saying over and over and **over **none of us are to have any contact with V.I.L.E?”

Dash averted his gaze. “Sterling is a friend, he’s not part of Cleo’s schemes.”

Crackle took a deep breath and was clearly trying hard not to get angry. “You will tell me everything he said,” he ordered, “What has been happening at V.I.L.E?”

Dash was rather embarrassed, but he explained what Sterling had told him. Crackle listened patiently and made no move to interrupt. When Dash had told him everything, Crackle crossed his arms as he debated on what to do. Dash was tense and wondered if this was serious enough to warrant a shock from the crackle rod. Crackle rarely used it anymore, but the threat was still one he didn’t want to test.

Although Crackle gave a thoughtful look to Dash, he still seemed somewhat annoyed. He’d assumed V.I.L.E wanted them all dead, but if Sterling was to be believed, then V.I.L.E were actually trying to get them back. That was **never **going to happen, but it was still intriguing to him. How could they ever expect them to willingly return to them after they tried to have them all killed?

Crackle handed Dash his com back and then turned away. “Break-Times over,” he announced, “We need to finish the drywall today.”

“That’s it?” Dash asked in surprise, “You’re not mad at me?”

“No more unauthorized calls. Now back to work,” Crackle ordered, “The base is almost done, and we can’t be slacking off now.”

Crackle walked away, and the others stared after him in disbelief. Dash exchanged a look with Neal who simply shrugged and reached a hand down to help him to his feet. Dash accepted the hand up and they headed back for the base, having a feeling Crackle wasn’t going to let this go. Now that the frames were completed, it was fast work putting up the drywall and insulation in each room. The twins would hold the drywall in place, and then Crackle and Moose Boy would screw it in. Neal and Dash were crack-filling the walls right after them, and in no time at all, the entire base had walls.

As they took a breather before they started their next project, Dash glanced around just noticing someone was missing.

“Where’s Paper Star?” Dash demanded, “This was supposed to be her job today! I was supposed to be on windows!”

“She’s on an errand,” Crackle replied distractedly.

“What kind of errand?” Dash asked, crossing his arms.

“A **personal** errand,” Crackle responded, “Let it drop.”

Dash sighed and glanced down at the toolbox. “I’m going to start sealing the windows,” he commented, kneeling down to dig through the tools.

“Good idea,” Crackle praised, “I’m going to start removing shingles from the roof.”

“Make sure to tie yourself off in case you fall,” Theodore cautioned, “I once saw a guy fall off a roof and land on the road. It wasn’t a pretty sight.”

“I’ll be careful,” Crackle promised.

Dash frowned when he didn’t find what he was looking for. “Who has the caulk?” he demanded.

“Neal does, I think,” Roosevelt responded.

“Neal?” Dash yelled out of the room, “I need caulk!”

“Right now?!” Neal called back teasingly from down the hall, “In front of everyone?”

“Yes, I need it **now**!” Dash snapped, “Give me the caulk!”

Neal poked his head in the room and gave him an enormous grin. “I bet you **do **need the caulk, Dashie. Maybe you’d be less bitchy then.”

Dash then realized how caulk had the same pronunciation as another word and he flushed. “Oh shut up! Do you have it or not?”

Neal tossed a tube over to him and Dash caught it, still glaring at the other man. Neal simply laughed and disappeared out of the room, and Dash shook his head in exasperation. 

As Crackle gathered up a few supplies to begin work on the roof, his com suddenly began to ring. Setting down his toolbox, he pulled his com out of his pocket and glanced down at the screen. Doctor Bellum was calling him. He’d ignored hundreds of calls from the faculty over the last couple months, but now he found he was curious as to what she had to say.

Debating for a moment, he accepted the call. When Doctor Bellum’s face appeared on his screen, she seemed surprised that he picked up, but she quickly pushed her surprise aside and leaned in towards the camera eagerly.

“Crackle my dear boy!” she greeted.

The rest of the team stopped what they were doing and glanced over towards the com in shock. Crackle gave her an unimpressed look.

“Alright, you have my attention,” he informed her, “What do you want?”

Doctor Bellum pushed up her goggles and gave him a serious look. “We at V.I.L.E have made a terrible mistake,” she responded.

“Oh?” Crackle questioned with disinterest.

“It appears...perhaps we were a bit too...hasty in discounting your team,” Doctor Bellum began, “You were loyal to us, and we betrayed your trust.”

Crackle was tempted to just hang up, but he resisted out of curiosity. 

“I’m not going to ask you to re-join V.I.L.E because you’d be a fool to ever accept that, and I know you’re not stupid.”

Crackle wasn’t expecting this and he furrowed his brow. “I’m listening.”

“The faculty has discussed your team at great length, and after seeing your fight with The Void and The Cleaners, we were rather impressed. There has never been a team like yours in V.I.L.E and I doubt it would be something we could ever replicate. At least not to the level your team operates at.”

“What’s your point?” Crackle demanded rudely.

“I’m not going to ask you to return, but I have a compromise…”

Crackle narrowed his eyes, immediately suspicious. “A compromise?”

“V.I.L.E doesn’t normally do this, but we would like to hire your team on a mission to mission basis.”

Crackle rolled his eyes. “Not interested.”

“Wait! Don’t hang up!” Doctor Bellum said quickly, “Just listen for a moment.”

“Alright,” Crackle informed her, clearly not very impressed.

“The jobs we would hire you for would be special cases where it might be too difficult for regular operatives to complete. This could mean accessing somewhere secure, or it could mean a mission that is extremely time sensitive. You would be paid **extremely** well, and it would be up to you whether or not to accept missions. You would be sent information packets to look over, and from there you could decide whether or not to accept the mission.”

“Why would we ever agree to this?” Crackle demanded.

“This gives you all the freedom of being your own team, but the security of guaranteed jobs. You will never be without a steady stream of income.”

“This is obviously just a trap to find our location,” Crackle said, rolling his eyes, “I’m never going to work with you. As far as I’m concerned, V.I.L.E can burn to the ground.”

“All I ask is that you think it over,” Bellum requested, “There’s a mission for October 15th at the university in Orlando. We will pay your team fifty thousand dollars in cash just for accepting the mission, and then another fifty if you complete it. We will pay you in **cash** and we will **never** ask for your location.”

A hundred thousand dollars would pay for the rest of the renovations and Crackle hesitated, seriously tempted. Bellum could see the thoughtful look in his eyes and she realized it was money he was after. 

“We will **always** pay you, even if you fail the mission,” she assured him, “Just put some thought into it and I can answer any questions you have.”

“Why would you want this sort of arrangement?” Crackle demanded, “You have no reason to believe we would ever trust you again.”

“V.I.L.E has many enemies and we don’t want your team against us as well. We would prefer to remain indifferent to one another and not get involved in the other's business. V.I.L.E just wants the occasional mission.”

Crackle glanced over at the rest of his team who were shamelessly eavesdropping. “I’ll think about it and call you back when I’ve made my decision,” he informed her.

He then disconnected the call and set his com aside.

“Are we really considering this?” Dash demanded.

“Accepting jobs from some of the big criminal empires might not be a bad idea,” Crackle responded, “We wouldn’t just have to take missions from V.I.L.E, but we could do a few from the other Big V’s as well.”

“Why do all the big criminal empires have ‘V’ names?” Neal asked.

“From what I once overheard Bellum talking about, all the ‘V’ empires used to be part of the same group, but they all split and became their own groups.”

“I don’t like this, Graham,” Dash commented.

“We need to have a team meeting and discuss this,” Crackle informed them, “Let’s go grab Sven and then wait for Paper Star to get back. The roof can wait another day.”

“This meeting won’t take too long will it?” Moose Boy asked worriedly, “I have a special date-night planned for Sven tonight. I’m going to surprise him.”

“Once we’re all together, it shouldn’t take us too long to discuss it. I want everyone to have a voice in this meeting, and I want to make sure everyone is on the same page about this.”

Moose Boy nodded, his expression still looking a bit troubled. “Alright…”

Crackle returned the nod. “Let’s go collect Sven and let him know what’s happening.”

The twins seemed incredibly confused over the whole thing and they exchanged a look with one another. Roosevelt gave a shrug which Theodore returned and then they followed the rest of the team outside.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Plague Doctor had never hated any place more than he hated San Diego. They had been there for over a month and there was still no sign of Team Crackle. Every single day, their henchmen patrolled the city, but they never found any sign of Otterman. The search for Team Crackle’s van had been a dead end, and as suspected the registration was fake.

The henchmen had concentrated on the downtown area first, but when that proved fruitless, they began searching the suburbs and outskirts of the city. San Diego was a massive city and the searches were long and hard. It was like Team Crackle had simply disappeared and Matryoshka was beginning to wonder if they had left San Diego.

Plague Doctor didn’t like sitting idly by, and despite his sister’s orders, he too searched every single day. He hated every minute of it, and he felt exposed dressed like a civilian, but there was nothing he could do about that. The only highlight of each day was the fact he would try a new taco truck while he was out. He had no idea how many different food trucks there were in San Diego, but after an entire month, he hadn’t even visited half of them. 

Matryoshka spent her days relaxing at the resort or at the beach like she was on vacation and she was enjoying every minute of it. She’d go to fancy spas and get massages, and Plague Doctor would come back sunburnt and exhausted. No matter what she said to him, he ignored her and kept searching every single day. Finally his sunburn was so bad that Matryoshka had to help him treat it, and she forced him to remove his shirt so she could inspect it.

Plague Doctor let out a hiss of pain and glanced over his shoulder at Matryoshka who was pouring aloe vera over the worst of the blisters on his back.

[[You’re not going out tomorrow,]] she informed him firmly, [[You’re going to end up getting sick if you keep this up.]]

Plague Doctor silently shook his head.

[[Look at how bad these burns are! You are not leaving this resort!]]

Plague Doctor once again shook his head.

Matryoshka scowled at his stubbornness, and she slapped a hand directly on his back across the blisters as hard as she could. Plague Doctor let out a startled yelp, and immediately shot her a withering glare. 

[[Your skin isn’t even **beginning** to tan, you’re just burning over and over again,]] she pointed out, [[Enough with this nonsense. Either stop searching, or switch to going out after dark. I’m not going to allow you to keep doing this.]]

Plague Doctor pulled away from her and reached for his shirt. He winced as he tried to get it back on and Matryoshka simply watched him, not offering to help. When he realized his arms and back were too sunburnt to get it on, he let out a resigned sigh. He stood where he was, still holding the shirt and a moment later, Matryoshka gently took it from him.

[[Go to bed, Dmitry,]] she suggested, [[Sleep through the heat of the day, and then try relaxing for a while. Sven will eventually be found, and then we can take action. For now there’s nothing we can do.]]

Plague Doctor’s shoulders sagged in defeat, knowing she was right. He hated waiting around and wished they had stayed at their base until Otterman was found. He preferred being busy, and he found this whole trip unbearable. As silent as always, he left Matryoshka’s room and headed for his own. Raising a hand to his overheated face, he winced in pain and then flopped facedown on his bed. Every inch of his body ached uncomfortably and he simply laid there staring at the wall as the A.C blew at him. If they didn’t find Otterman soon, he was going to leave the United States and return to their base in Ukraine. At least it was cooler there.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and allowed himself to drift into an uneasy sleep. He dreamt of his brother Alexei, and the fight that had taken his life. They had been ambushed by V.I.L.E and every member of their team had been shot before they even had a chance to defend themselves. One moment they were walking through a small village, and then next gunfire seemed to explode from every direction at once.

Alexei was fast to react, and he ran for his little brother to protect him. Alexei had dove on top of him the second he heard the gunfire, and it was only because of this that Plague Doctor survived. Alexei had knocked him down to the ground just as a wave of bullets rained down at them. Plague Doctor felt the bite of a bullet as it pierced his chest and he instinctively looked to his brother as they fell. It was then that blood seemed to explode into his face, and just like that Alexei was dead.

Alexei had been shot through the head, and Plague Doctor had been drenched in blood and brain matter, his brother’s lifeless eyes still staring into his own. The blood felt hot against his skin, and Plague Doctor couldn’t move. He had completely frozen in terror, and within seconds, everyone was dead on the ground. There was then a silence that was so deafening, it had been unbearable.

V.I.L.E appeared out of the trees, and as they searched the bodies, they thought Plague Doctor was dead. The V.I.L.E foot soldiers then began dragging the bodies into a mass grave that had already been dug. V.I.L.E had been expecting them.

Plague Doctor was thrown carelessly into the grave and he still couldn’t move. He had simply laid there at the bottom of the grave as corpse after corpse was tossed on top of him. Plague Doctor stared straight up out of the hole as the man in charge glanced down at the pile of bodies.

“Is that all of them?” Doctor Vesalius demanded, his expression completely indifferent.

“Yes, Sir,” a guard responded, “The Volkov resistance has been annihilated.” 

“Good, I’m sick of these pathetic attacks on my lab,” Vess responded, “Perhaps **this** will finally send them a message they can’t ignore. Those two right there are Alexei and Dmitry Volkov. All Volkov heirs are dead now, and that means Volkov is finally dead.”

“Er...what about that little pretty-boy that keeps trying to get your attention?” the guard asked, “Isn’t **he** a Volkov?”

Vess let out a dismissive snort. “Michael is too stupid to **ever** be a threat to me. I’m planning on having him killed once Volkov realizes what has happened. I want Mikhael Volkov to see me kill his only grandson right in front of him. This lab is **mine** and they will never take it from me.”

“Michael left on a mission this morning,” the guard informed him.

“What?” Vess hissed out, “Why was I not informed of this?”

“He’s coming back in two days,” the guard quickly assured him, “He’s on some sort of personal mission to ‘prove his worth’ to you.”

Vess let out a snort. “Like that moron could ever do anything to impress me. As soon as he returns, bring him to me.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The guard then glanced down into the pit. “Should we burn the bodies?”

Vess glanced down and considered it. “No, that’s a waste of fuel. Just fill in the hole, and leave them to rot.”

Plague Doctor still felt completely paralyzed and he simply watched as shovelful after shovelful of dirt rained down on him. The bodies were buried in loose dirt and Plague Doctor laid in darkness, barely able to breathe and feeling completely numb. When he couldn’t breathe anymore, he slowly began to shift his body trying to move in the suffocating darkness. His fingers clawed at the cold earth and he could feel bodies all around him as he struggled and fought to get free. Clawing upwards, he felt his nails break and his fingers were in agony but he didn’t stop fighting to escape this pit of death. He felt one of his hands burst into fresh air and as he sucked in a deep and gasping breath. His other hand clawed out through the dirt and he began fighting his way up. The light above seemed to make everything hazy as he looked up, and he dug and struggled as if in a trance.

Plague Doctor crawled his way out of the grave, gasping and his whole body was bruised and bleeding. He wiped the dirt and blood from his eyes and laid beside the pit of death, shaking and feeling completely numb. His gaze then fell on the guard who had buried them. 

The guard was standing with his back to him, next to a jeep while smoking a cigarette and chatting on his com. Plague Doctor stared at him for a long moment and then slowly struggled to his feet. He silently limped his way towards the man, feeling nothing except a burning hatred. The guard had no idea he was in any sort of danger and he laughed at something the person on the com said, still not turning around.

Just as he reached the man, Plague Doctor stumbled a bit, sending loose stones skidding forward. The guard glanced over his shoulder and then let out a shriek at the sight of Plague Doctor. Plague Doctor launched himself at the man and wrapped his hands around the man’s throat and squeezed as hard as he could. They both crashed to the ground and the guard thrashed and hit Plague Doctor as hard as he could, but Plague Doctor’s grip could not be broken. Plague Doctor couldn’t even feel the attack on his ribs and stomach, all of his attention on choking the life out of the other man.

The guard’s attacks became weaker and weaker as his face began turning blue and Plague Doctor stared straight into his eyes, a manic and desperate look in his own eyes. The guard’s mouth gaped like a fish out of water, and then his eyes rolled back as he lost consciousness. Plague Doctor sat there with his hands around the throat until he felt the last bit of life leave the man.

Plague Doctor then continued sitting there for a long time, feeling absolutely nothing. He felt like all life and emotions had been sucked out of him and there was nothing left inside him except for an empty void. An empty void that was calling him towards death. He had escaped the void, but now he still teetered on the edge of it, feeling like it was calling him back.

Ignoring the call of the void, he slowly stood up and then approached the jeep. The blood and death filled his mind as he turned on the ignition, and as he drove away, he knew he would get his revenge on V.I.L.E. He would kill them all. He would send them all to the void.

Plague Doctor woke with a start and jerked up as if he was expecting V.I.L.E to be in the room with him. Taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart, he wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced towards the window. It was dark out and he’d slept for the entire day. Glancing beside the bed, he saw a tray of food had been left for him but he ignored it, his stomach queasy from his dream. Rubbing his eyes, and got to his feet just wanting to distract himself. Grabbing a shirt, he discovered he wasn’t as stiff and sore as he was earlier and slipped it on.

He then headed for the door, just wanting to be by himself for a while. Glad that it was now a lot cooler out, he chose a random direction and simply began walking. He headed for the Pacific Beach which was over an hour’s walk away, but he didn’t care. He had no idea what time it was, but it must have been pretty late since there didn’t seem to be too many people around.

When Plague Doctor reached the beach, he took a seat on the sand and stared out towards the ocean which looked like an endless black void. It made him feel uneasy to stare at it and without really thinking about it, he kicked off his shoes and began walking towards it. The sand was soft and cool under his feet and as he headed for the water, he stepped over a crab as it scuttled to get away from him. He could hear odd noises coming from further up the beach and when he glanced over, he saw fat shapes laying all across the sand. Having no idea what those animals were, he decided to give them a wide berth and continued heading towards the water.

The water was cold as he stepped into it and he stared out at the black nothing that seemed to stretch on forever in front of him. He slowly continued wading out, feeling like the nothing was somehow calling to him. When he was up to his hips in the water, he relaxed and closed his eyes simply listening to the sounds of the ocean.

“Keep your eyes closed!” came a voice from somewhere nearby.

Plague Doctor quickly turned to look and saw two men making their way onto the beach nearby.

“Okay, okay,” the other man responded in amusement, “But you better not let me trip over anything.”

“Of course not!” the other man responded, just as the man with his eyes closed tripped over a piece of driftwood.

The man quickly caught his partner.

“Oh, er, watch your step…”

“Yeah, thanks, Henrik,” the man replied dryly.

“Okay, now we’re almost there! No peeking!”

“I’m almost blind anyway, Henrik, why do I have to close my eyes?”

The larger man scoffed. “Because it’s a surprise.”

“Why do I hear water? Are we at the beach?”

“Stop guessing!” the large man scolded.

Plague Doctor watched as the large man led the smaller man towards the lumpy animals on the beach who began making grunting noises as the humans approached.

“What is that?!” the smaller man demanded.

“You can open your eyes!”

There was a pause and then the smaller man took a step closer to the animals. “Seals?” he asked in confusion.

“No, they’re otters!” Henrik announced happily, “I found you otters!”

“...those are seals.”

“Well, seals and otters are the same thing, aren’t they?”

“They really aren’t, Henrik.”

“...oh,” the large man sounded incredibly disappointed and the smaller man was quick to take his partner by the hand.

“I like seals too,” he assured him, “They’re very...round.”

“I knew you would love it!” Henrik crowed out, startling a couple seals into the water.

Plague Doctor rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the water. He couldn’t swim and he was honestly a little bit afraid of water, but wading here seemed to be what he needed. The nightmares weren’t as frequent as they used to be, but they still left him in a major funk for days afterwards. He kept all of this to himself and he knew his sister believed he’d gotten past the nightmares. He didn’t want her worrying and fussing over him, and so he normally dealt with it on his own. 

The two men chattering nearby were starting to annoy him and so he began walking away from them, heading further down the beach for some privacy. As he waded along, he felt something smooth and rubbery underneath his foot and then there was an agonizing stabbing sensation in his calf. Letting out a sharp cry of surprise and pain, he stumbled and fell, the pain feeling just like a knife wound. As he flailed in the water trying to find his footing, he suddenly felt strong arms pluck him out of the water and he looked up into the face of Moose Boy. 

Plague Doctor froze in surprise as he stared up at Moose Boy, and a moment later he was set down on the beach.

“What happened?” Moose Boy asked him, “Were you drowning?”

Plague Doctor simply stared up at the large man, surprised Moose Boy didn’t recognize him.

“Sven, his leg is bleeding bad!”

Plague Doctor slowly turned his head and stared at Otterman who was kneeling down beside him.

“Don’t move!” Otterman ordered, looking closely at the bleeding leg, “There’s something stuck in your leg.”

“Did he get bitten by a shark?” Moose Boy demanded.

“It’s a stingray barb,” Otterman replied, adjusting his glasses as he stared at the wound, “You must have stepped on a stingray when you were wading.”

Plague Doctor simply continued staring at Otterman, not quite sure what to do. Reaching into his front pocket, he pulled out his com which was now completely waterlogged. Shaking some of the water off it, he powered it on, glad that it still seemed to work. Just as he sent a text to Matryoshka with his location, Otterman yanked the barb out of his leg and he let out an agonized yelp.

“Sorry,” Otterman apologized, “It would only make the pain worse the longer it stayed in there. The wound isn’t too big and I’ll bandage it for you. You might want to take a few tylenol or something once you get home.”

Plague Doctor watched as Otterman removed a medkit from the nearby car and then jogged back to him. Wincing in pain as Otterman wrapped the leg, it seemed to occur to the other men that he hadn’t said a single word yet.

“Are you alright?” Otterman asked him, expression concerned, “Should we call you an ambulance?”

Plague Doctor said nothing. He stared into Otterman’s eyes and it was like his brother Maxim was staring right back at him. Otterman had the same blue eyes and light brown hair that his brother had, and it made him feel a little uneasy. Although the DNA tests had shown Otterman to be his nephew, he’d still been a little skeptical until this very moment. He could see Maxim in the other man, and he no longer had any doubts at all. Otterman was a Volkov.

Otterman’s mannerisms were nothing at all like Maxim’s. Plague Doctor could see the gentle concern in Otterman’s eyes, and the man was clearly doing his best not to hurt him. He may **look** like Maxim, but Otterman was certainly nothing like him. Maxim **never** would have helped a random stranger on the beach, he would have just ignored it.

Otterman’s brow furrowed when he got no response. “Are you alright?” he asked again.

Plague Doctor still didn’t answer.

Moose Boy frowned and looked down at Plague Doctor. He stared at his face for a long moment, feeling like there was something vaguely familiar about him.

“Why isn’t he saying anything?” he asked in confusion.

“Maybe he doesn’t speak English?” Otterman suggested, glancing back to Plague Doctor, “_ Parles français _?”

There was no response.

“¿_ Hablas español _?”

Still no response.

“_ Sprichst du Deutsch _?”

Plague Doctor still remained silent, simply staring.

“Er..._ pratar du svenska _?”

Plague Doctor cocked his head but didn’t respond.

Otterman shrugged, not sure what else to do. Moose Boy narrowed his eyes at Plague Doctor, getting a **very** bad feeling about the other man. When he stared at him, he felt the instinctive need to protect Otterman, and he began very subtly putting himself between them. 

“Come on, Sven, it’s getting late and we should go home…” Moose Boy said, gently pulling his partner away.

“Henrik, we can’t just leave him like this!”

Moose Boy glanced back to Plague Doctor and felt something feral within him and he pulled Otterman in close.

“We need to go,” Moose Boy said firmly, pulling the other man with him towards the car.

“What’s gotten into you?” Otterman demanded, pulling away.

Moose Boy continued staring at Plague Doctor who hadn’t once looked away from Otterman. [[I don’t know,]] he responded, switching over to Swedish, [[Something’s not right with that guy. Does he look familiar to you?]]

Otterman glanced over to Plague Doctor and squinted. [[No.]]

Moose Boy’s skin was crawling and he knew Plague Doctor from **somewhere**, but he just couldn’t place the face. Once again he began backing away towards the car, pulling Otterman with him. 

A strange purple car suddenly pulled into the parking lot, followed by another, and then by another. They were now blocked from reaching their car.

Moose Boy pushed Otterman behind him and then raised his fists, ready to fight.

“What’s going on?” Otterman demanded, squinting in the direction of the cars, “Who is it? V.I.L.E?”

“I don’t know,” Moose Boy answered, “Stay behind me.”

The car doors all opened and within seconds they were completely surrounded. Matryoshka got out of the car and her gaze went to Otterman, and there was obvious relief in her eyes. Her gaze then went to her brother who was still sitting on the beach, bloody bandages around his leg.

“Restrain the big one!” she ordered the men, immediately rushing to check on Plague Doctor.

Moose Boy stared at the woman and he suddenly recognized her. Eyes wide, then looked at Plague Doctor, now recognizing him as well. Letting out a roar of outrage, he charged forward, ready to defend Otterman at all costs.

“Henrik?!” Otterman called after him in a panic.

“Run, Sven!” Moose Boy ordered, “Run!”

Otterman would never leave Moose Boy behind and he stared at the blurry men that surrounded them on all sides, knowing he wasn’t going to be much help. Matryoshka ran across the sand to Plague Doctor and dropped down to her knees beside him, her hands immediately reaching for the bloody bandages. Plague Doctor caught her hands and gave a slow shake of the head and pointed back towards Otterman.

“You’re hurt!” she protested, “What happened?”

Plague Doctor shook his head again and jabbed a finger more urgently towards Otterman who was watching the fight in front of him with wide eyes.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” Matryoshka demanded.

Plague Doctor nodded and gave her a not so subtle shove towards Otterman. Matryoshka trusted him and gave a nod, turning back towards the fight. 

Moose Boy was fighting with every bit of strength he had, but his opponents were all highly trained in hand to hand combat. They hadn’t been ordered to go for the kill, so they were trying to get a hold of the bigger man to restrain him. When they finally got him by the arms, they pulled him to the ground and then the entire group pinned him to the ground. Moose Boy bellowed and struggled in rage but he couldn’t move. 

Otterman saw Moose Boy was in danger and he changed forward and he hit the first man he came to as hard as he could. The man lost his grip on Moose Boy for just a moment and Otterman jumped on another man’s back, trying to get him to let go. Gripping the man in a headlock, he held on as tightly as he could as the man tried to dislodge him.

Otterman was suddenly yanked off the man by the back of his shirt and he turned and swung out a fist on instinct. Matryoshka caught his fist and then pulled him a few steps away from where Moose Boy was being restrained. Otterman swung at her again and again, but she easily blocked all of his attacks.

“Sven, that is **enough**,” she informed him.

Otterman paused, fist still in the air, not realizing he’d just been fighting a woman. 

“I just want to talk to you,” Matryoshka promised, “Neither of you will be hurt.”

Otterman turned desperate eyes to Moose Boy who was still screaming and struggling in pure rage.

“Let Henrik go!” Otterman ordered angrily, “Who are you?”

“Don’t you recognize me?” Matryoshka asked in surprise, backing several feet away.

“No,” Otterman snapped, “Why would I?”

“Look at me closely,” Matryoshka ordered, “and you’ll know who I am and then you **will** listen to what I have to say.”

All Otterman could see was a vaguely human shaped red figure and he scowled at her. “I don’t see very well,” he responded, “I can’t see you.”

Matryoshka’s eyes widened. She was only standing ten feet away from him but he couldn’t see her? She stared at his thick glasses and wondered what had happened to him. He used to have perfect eyesight as a child. 

She approached him and Otterman immediately tensed up, expecting her to attack him. She leaned in close to him and his eyes focused on her. He stared at her blue eyes and dark hair and he gasped when he suddenly knew who she was. Without a single word he launched himself at her and hugged her as tightly as he could. Moose Boy who had been watching the whole thing went still in complete surprise.

“Sven?” he questioned.

Otterman simply hugged her as tightly as he could, overwhelmed and not knowing what to say. After a minute or so, he was able to collect himself and he pulled back as he realized something very important.

“Where did you go?” Otterman demanded, suddenly furious at her, “Where **were** you?!”

“It’s a long story…” Matryoshka responded hesitantly.

Otterman’s gaze hardened. “You **abandoned** me!”

“Oh Sven, I would never abandon you! I’ve missed you so much,” Matryoshka whispered to him.

“Then what happened?” Otterman demanded, “Where have you been for the last twenty years?”

Matryoshka averted her eyes for a moment. “You remember how much I loved you, right?” she asked.

Otterman backed up a step. “I thought I did, but then you left and never returned!”

Matryoshka let out a long and deep sigh. “I loved you, but your family fought my claim to you. I wanted to adopt you and take you away from that hell, but they wouldn’t allow it.”

“You didn’t try very hard!” Otterman hissed. “I would have gone with you in a heartbeat!”

“I came for you as planned, but your family told me you had died in a car accident. They showed me a death certificate and told me to never return. I had no idea they had fabricated the whole thing! I **never** would have left you, I swear! I checked every record I could and everything said you were dead!”

“You were the only family I had that didn’t hate me! You **promised** to save me!” Otterman snapped, “You gave me hope and that was a cruel and dangerous thing! You have **no** idea what they did to me! They nearly destroyed me!”

Matryoshka yanked him back into a hug. “I’m sorry, I’m **so** sorry. I should have never believed them. I knew they were horrible people but I **never **would have expected them to lie to me like that! I was mourning at the time and wasn’t in a good place mentally.”

“Mourning?” Otterman repeated, frowning at her uncertainly, “Mourning who?”

“The same summer I was going to rescue you, I lost my husband and child in a fire. When I was told that you too were dead, it was more than I could handle and I was in a very dark place for a **very** long time. I nearly...ended myself on more than one occasion...”

“Aunt Alexandria…” Otterman said uncertainly, “Who **are** you?”

Matryoshka took him gently by the hand and motioned for him to come with her.

“Let Henrik go,” Otterman ordered firmly.

“He will interfere,” Matryoshka pointed out, “I just need to speak with you privately for a few minutes.”

Otterman glanced over to where Moose Boy quietly watched.

“Henrik, I need to speak with her for a few minutes. She’s not going to hurt me. If they let you go, please don’t attack anyone.”

“Sven…” Moose Boy said, looking confused, “Don’t you know who they are? They’re going to kill you!”

“Let him go,” Otterman ordered firmly.

To his surprise, all the men released Moose Boy without question, who sat up on the pavement and gave Otterman a somewhat lost look.

“I’m okay,” Otterman assured him, “I’ll just be a few minutes and then I’ll explain everything.”

Moose Boy nodded but didn’t once take his eyes from his partner. “But, Sven…”

“I’ll be fine,” he assured him again.

“If any of you so much as bruise him, I’ll rip your heads off!” Henrik snarled.

“Agreed,” Matryoshka told him.

Otterman allowed himself to be led onto the sand towards Plague Doctor and he suddenly got a **very **bad feeling about all of this. They took a seat on the sand beside him, and Matryoshka took Otterman’s hand more to keep him there than to offer him reassurance.

“This is your uncle Dmitry,” Matryoshka introduced, “He’s not much older than you. You two would have grown up together if I’d adopted you.”

Otterman stared at the young man in shock. “Uncle?! I have an **uncle**?!”

Matryoshka gave a slow nod. “There’s a lot you don’t know about, and I’ll explain it the best I can. I was going to tell you all this when you were a child, but I never got the chance.”

Otterman glanced back to Moose Boy who was watching them like a hawk.

“Dmitry and I are your father’s siblings,” she began.

Otterman nodded with a frown, thinking of the violent man he remembered from his childhood. He’d always wondered how he was related to his aunt Alexandria since both of his parents had seemed to hate her.

Matryoshka then paused a moment before she continued. “The father you grew up with was not your biological father.”

His suspicions were now confirmed and Otterman nodded, finally knowing why he’d been so hated growing up.

“Who is my biological father?” Otterman demanded, “He must be pretty important for all the secrecy and henchmen you two have.”

“Your father’s name was Maxim Volkov and was the heir to the Volkov empire.”

Otterman had heard the name Volkov several times throughout his career at V.I.L.E and he remembered the ill-fated mission that had almost taken his eyes. 

“Was?” Otterman questioned.

Alexandria nodded. “He was killed by V.I.L.E back in 2010 after our two organizations declared war on each other. He was in a safehouse in Botswana and V.I.L.E managed to track him down.”

Otterman went stiff and his eyes went wide. “I...I…”

Matryoshka nodded. “Yes, but it was **not** your fault. I read the reports and Dr. Bellum attempted to kill you along with your father that day. I saw in the reports that you were injured during the explosion, but I didn’t realize it was your eyes.”

“...I killed my own father.”

“**V.I.L.E** killed Maxim, not you,” Matryoshka assured him, “You had no idea what they were planning. You were innocent and we don’t blame you for it.”

“But...but…”

“You are a **Volkov** and there aren’t many of us left. We’ve worked hard to find you, and we came to finally bring you home.”

Otterman stared at her, already feeling overwhelmed. “Who exactly are the Volkovs?” he demanded, “You’re villains?”

Matryoshka shrugged. “Call it whatever you want, but I prefer to call it opportunistic. My brother and I separated ourselves from the main Volkov vein, and we now head The Void.” 

Otterman gasped and he suddenly recognized Matryoshka from the fight. He couldn’t see very well, but he remembered a woman wearing red and speaking in Russian. If she was the woman from the fight...then that meant Dmitry was…

Otterman let out a cry of pure panic and he tried to scramble away from Plague Doctor, clapping a hand over his stomach instinctively.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Matryoshka cried, reaching for him.

“Get away from me!” Otterman yelled, kicking at her as she got too close.

“It’s not what you think!”

“Oh really?” Otterman snarled, scooting backwards across the sand, “Then he’s **not** the one who nearly sliced me in half?!”

Matryoshka winced. “Well, he is...but he didn’t know who you were at the time! He **never **would have hurt you if he knew you were family!”

“You **tortured** my friend and nearly killed her!” Otterman yelled at her, “Then I was gutted like an animal! You were recording the whole thing like complete psychos!”

“Let me explain!” Matryoshka cried out, knowing this was **not** going the way she hoped, “There’s more to it than that!”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Otterman snarled, “Henrik? Henrik!”

Moose Boy was at Otterman’s side within seconds, helping him to his feet and wrapping an arm around him protectively. Matryoshka seemed surprised by this.

“Is that your...are you two…?”

“Yes,” Moose Boy snapped, “You got a problem with that?!”

Matryoshka shook her head. “No, I’m happy you found love,” she informed him.

“Get away from me!” Otterman ordered.

“Sven, please! Dmitry feels **terrible** for hurting you and he’s been working day and night to find you to make things right. We thought you were V.I.L.E and that’s why we attacked you. I’m sorry for everything, and I just want you to listen!”

Otterman leaned against Moose Boy and shot her glare. “I’m supposed to believe all this? You abandoned me as a child and now come swanning back in my life twenty years later expecting everything to just be peachy between us? You tried to kill my team, and I frankly don’t trust you at all. I don’t even know for sure you’re my aunt! This could all be some sort of sick twisted game V.I.L.E cooked up!”

“Don’t say that!” Matryoshka begged, “You’re a Volkov! You belong with us!”

“I belong with **Henrik**,” Otterman responded firmly, “I’ve made my own family, and I’m finally happy. I won’t let anything jeopardize that!”

“I’m sorry I failed you, Sven, I’m sorry!” she said, her tone pained, “Please just talk to us! At least listen to what we have to say!”

“I’m not ready for this,” Otterman told her, “I can’t deal with any more shit right now!”

“I understand this is a lot to take in, but please don’t just cut us off. At least allow me to speak with you over the phone or over video call.”

Otterman didn’t want to be anywhere near Plague Doctor and he stubbornly shook his head. “No, this conversation is over. I’ve moved on from my past and you need to too. Forget I ever existed and don’t come near my friends again.”

Matryoshka looked like she wanted to argue but she fell silent as they turned to walk away.

“We’re staying at the Grand Oceanview Gold Resort,” she called after him, “If you change your mind, you can reach out anytime you want.”

Otterman didn’t answer and Matryoshka watched as they got in their car and drove away. Once they were gone, she turned to Plague Doctor and gave him a hard swat on the shoulder.

“A lot of help **you** were!” she snapped, “Why do you have to act so damn creepy around people?”

Plague Doctor didn’t answer and instead turned his attention out towards the ocean. Matryoshka let out a deep and disappointed sigh and then she plunked down beside him.

“Sorry,” she said after a moment, “I didn’t mean that.”

They continued sitting on the beach for a long time, but Otterman never returned.

“Don’t worry, I placed a tracker on their car.”

She would give him a few days to cool down, but she would make him listen to her one way or another.

Otterman was completely silent as they drove away from the beach and it wasn’t until they made it back to the base that the tears came. Raising his hands to his face, he simply sat there in the driveway crying as Moose Boy removed the key out of the ignition. Getting out of the car silently, he walked around to Otterman’s side and opened the door. Unbuckling his seatbelt, Moose Boy scooped him into his arms and lifted him out of the car.

“Stop!” Otterman protested, struggling half-heartedly, “Put me down!”

Moose Boy said nothing, and simply carried him around back towards their tents. They passed by the rest of the team seated around a bonfire and when they saw Otterman sobbing in Moose Boy’s arms, they glanced over in alarm.

“What kind of shitty date did you take him on?!” Roosevelt demanded in concern.

Moose Boy said nothing at all and simply helped Otterman inside their tent and zipped it up. Once in relative privacy, he then held his boyfriend close, wishing there was more he could do to help. Otterman replayed the entire conversation in his mind over and over and it only made him feel worse and worse. What if Matryoshka was telling the truth? Did he commit patricide unintentionally? Was he actually related to those freaks?

Otterman wasn’t sure of anything anymore, and didn’t know who to believe. As he laid there thinking about it, he realized there was someone who knew these answers. They could confirm Matryoshka’s story, and then he’d know for sure. 

He needed to call his mother.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Early the next morning,**

Otterman stared down at his com trying to work up the nerve to dial. He hadn’t been able to sleep all night, and now it was early morning and the sun was beginning to rise. Everyone else was still asleep and Otterman was pacing around the yard, trying to decide what to do. He hadn’t spoken to his family in seventeen years, and he’d honestly never wanted to ever speak to them again. His childhood had been miserable, and he never wanted to feel that helpless and that unloved ever again.

Otterman rubbed at his head and then continued pacing, wanting to find out the truth, but knowing it was going to be horrible to make that call. Taking a seat at his ‘office’ underneath the oak tree, he once again stared down at his com. The phone number was already entered in and all he had to do was call it. Seventeen years was a long time, and they probably didn’t even still have the same phone number. He’d call and it would say the number was disconnected or something. There was no way it would actually still work.

Before he could lose his nerve, he hit call and put it on speakerphone. It rang once and he held his breath in terror. It rang twice and he tensed up suddenly wanting to hang up. The third ring made him relax slightly. Perhaps he was right and the number was no longer in service? It rang four times and he shrugged. Oh well, he tried. He didn’t know his parents' new number and so there was nothing more he could do. 

[[Hello?]]

Otterman froze, his breath catching in his throat. It had been seventeen years, but he still recognized his mother’s voice.

[[Hello?]] she repeated in Swedish, [[Is anyone there?]]

Otterman swallowed heavily. [[Hello, mother…]] he greeted hesitantly.

[[Nils, is that you?]] she asked in confusion.

Nils...his younger brother…

[[No, it’s Sven,]] Otterman replied, half-hoping she would hang up on him.

There was dead silence on the other line. The silence stretched on awkwardly for a long time, and Otterman finally cleared his throat nervously.

[[Are you still there?]] he asked.

[[I don’t know anyone named Sven,]] she responded, her tone cold, [[Don’t call here again.]]

[[Wait, wait, don’t hang up!]] Otterman cried out.

To his surprise, she didn’t.

[[What do you want?]] she demanded, [[You want money? Well, you’re not getting any from us! I’m hanging up now, and I don’t want you to call here again!]]

[[I swear if you hang up on me, I’m going to show up at your front door in person!]] Otterman snarled at her, surprised by his sudden confidence, [[It will be a little harder to ignore me when I’m staring you in the face!]]

There was another lengthy pause.

[[What do you want?]] she finally asked.

[[I want to ask you some questions, and then I’ll hang up and never contact you again,]] Otterman replied.

[[I have no interest in speaking with you, Sven,]] she responded, her tone firm, [[You’re no longer a part of this family.]]

[[Why?]] Otterman demanded angrily, [[What did I ever do to make you hate me so much?]]

[[You existed,]] she responded coldly.

Her words stung and Otterman took a deep breath before responding.

[[You’ve hated me my entire life and I’ve had no idea why!]] Otterman shot back, [[Why? **Why** do you hate me?]]

His mother let out a deep sigh. 

[[Tell me!]] Otterman yelled, [[Tell me why you hate me!]]

[[You really want to know why?]] his mother snapped, [[You really want to make me say it?]]

[[Tell me!]] Otterman ordered, [[I’m thirty-two years old and I deserve to know the truth! Why do you hate me?]]

[[I hate you because you were **forced** on me!]] his mother snarled viciously, [[You were the disgusting result of assault, and I wish you never existed!]]

Otterman felt his chest tighten. [[You were raped?]] he whispered.

[[Yes, I was raped, and August was made to watch as that monster and his men assaulted me in front of him! He did it to hurt August, knowing how much he loved me! I barely survived that assault and every single day since, it has haunted me!]]

[[...no…]] Otterman whispered, horrified and feeling sick to his stomach at the thought.

[[Yes!]] she yelled back, [[You were a disgusting stain on our family and an everyday reminder of what happened to me! Every single day I wished for your death, but it never happened! I had to stare at your face and be reminded that you were a curse sent from the devil himself to punish me!]]

[[...was it Maxim Volkov who assaulted you?]] Otterman whispered.

[[So you know of him,]] she hissed in disgust.

[[...and aunt Alexandria was his sister…]]

[[The Volkovs were a plague on this family and she was obsessed with taking and adopting you!]]

[[You hated me!]] Otterman cried out, [[Why wouldn’t you have just let her take me?! Then I would have been gone forever!]]

[[I refused because she **wanted** you,]] his mother replied, [[The Volkovs deserved to suffer and I was **never** going to give them what they wanted! You would have been happy, and they would have been happy and I couldn’t stand the thought of it!]]

[[I was an innocent child!]] Otterman screamed out at her, his voice cracking, [[None of that was my fault! I did nothing wrong and you hated and abused me my **entire** childhood! I tried **so** hard to make you love me and all you did was hurt me in return!]]

[[Even saying your name makes my skin crawl,]] she told him, [[Every time I looked at you, I saw Maxim staring back at me. When you smiled, he smiled, when you laughed, he laughed, and I couldn’t **stand** it. Whenever you reached out to touch me, I felt like the assault was happening all over again. You were a constant reminder of what had happened.]]

[[If you hated me so much, you should have aborted me!]] Otterman yelled, [[It would have been kinder than forcing me to live through hell like that!]]

His mother fell silent for a few seconds and he swiped a hand across his wet eyes, feeling anger and despair fill him.

[[There was a chance you were August’s baby and I **had** to be sure,]] she finally replied, [[When you were born, you were a blond like the rest of our children, and I felt **certain** you were August’s. We named you, and loved you, but then your hair began to darken as you got older. By the time you were three, you looked so much like Maxim that I couldn’t deny it any longer.]]

[[I was your son!]] Otterman yelled, [[**None** of this was my fault! I did **everything** you asked of me just in the hopes you would love me! You should have given me up for adoption, or sent me to Alexandria! How could you do that to a **child**?!]]

[[You weren’t a child, you were a curse on this family!]] his mother snarled back, [[I kept thinking I would be able to get used to you, that I would be able to love you again, but the older you got, the more you looked like **him** . I knew you were evil like him and you would grow up and hurt people just like he did! You look **identical** to him!]]

Suddenly the com was snatched away from Otterman and Moose Boy glared at the screen, looking angry enough to murder.

[[Sven is the kindest, sweetest man who ever lived!]] Moose Boy snarled at her, [[He would **never** hurt anyone, and it’s a miracle you didn’t **turn** him mean with all the terrible things you did to him! He told me how you would lock him outside in the garden shed without food or water, how you would beat him, break his bones, slap him around, and tell him he was worthless. ** Nothing** you said was true. Sven is smart, perhaps the smartest person I know and he grew to be a wonderful man!]]

[[Who is this?]] she demanded, [[Who’s speaking?]]

[[My name is Henrik and I’m the man who loves Sven more than anything else in this world. I will always be by his side, and I will always protect him from people like **you**!]]

There was silence for such a long time, it seemed like she had hung up.

[[You’re gay...]] she finally stated, her tone oddly defeated.

[[I am,]] Otterman snapped, [[Let me guess, you have a problem with that?]]

[[...I was not expecting that.]] she admitted.

[[I’ve been with Henrik for nearly fifteen years, and he’s the only good thing to ever happen to me!]] Otterman yelled, [[He was the first person to ever truly love me!]]

Otterman’s mother went quiet, but he could hear as she adjusted the phone in her hand.

[[...I felt certain you were just a carbon copy of Maxim…]] she said hesitantly, [[I was **sure** you would grow up to hurt and manipulate people just like he had done.]]

[[Well, you were **wrong** !]] Otterman snarled, [[No matter how much you hit me or tore me down as a kid, I never **once** gave up, and I knew life could be better. No matter how bad things get in my life, I **never** stop fighting, and I suppose I have **you** to thank for that. I would **never** hurt an innocent person, and I would never **ever** assault someone. You hated me so much that you never even got to know me as a person!]]

[[You do seem different..]] she said slowly, [[You’re braver now.]]

[[I will **never** be a victim again!]] Otterman vowed, [[I’m no longer afraid of you!]]

His mother paused again.

[[Are you married?]] she asked, sounding hesitant, but curious.

[[No,]] Otterman snapped, [[Not yet, I’m still waiting for the doofus to propose to me.]]

Moose Boy’s eyes widened at this, and his cheeks coloured.

There was another awkward silence.

[[I suppose you’ll be pleased to know Maxim is dead,]] Otterman stated, reaching over so he could take Moose Boy’s hand.

His mother let out a gasp. [[He’s dead?!]]

[[He is,]] Otterman confirmed.

[[Good!]] his mother announced vehemently, [[I hope that miserable monster burns in hell for all of eternity! How did he die?]]

Otterman narrowed his eyes. [[I killed him.]]

This time the silence stretched on for an uncomfortable amount of time. Finally, his mother broke the silence with something unexpected.

[[Good,]] she stated, [[I’m glad.]]

[[I wanted you to confirm whether or not I was a Volkov, and now I have my answers,]] Otterman stated angrily, [[You should seriously consider some therapy before you start taking out your anger on one of your other children. I’ll keep my word, and you won’t hear from me ever again.]]

[[Sven?]] she asked, her tone sounding a little bit exhausted.

[[What?]] Otterman snapped rudely.

[[Are you happy now?]]

Otterman glanced up at Moose Boy and tightened his grip on the other man’s hand. [[Yes,]] he replied, [[I’ve found a new family, and I’m finally happy. I don’t need or **want** your love, not anymore. You can forget I ever existed, and I won’t be calling you again.]]

Otterman hung up the call without waiting for a response, and Moose Boy immediately yanked him into a bone-crushing hug. Otterman glanced over and saw the entire team were watching the exchange from their tents. Apparently he had woken everyone up, and he flushed in embarrassment. He wiped at his eyes again and then pulled away from Moose Boy.

“That didn’t sound like a very good call…” Theodore commented sympathetically, “Who was the angry lady?”

“Just some woman I used to know,” Otterman replied.

“Are you alright?” Crackle asked him in concern, “What happened last night, and what was that angry phone call about?”

“I...think I should probably explain a few things…” Otterman said hesitantly.

Crackle crawled out of his tent and the others did as well, gathering around the smaller man worriedly.

“Something serious happened,” Crackle stated, “Was it V.I.L.E?”

Otterman shook his head.

“I don’t even know where to begin…” Otterman said, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

“Well, just start at the very beginning and go from there,” Neal suggested, tone gentle, “Take your time.”

Otterman nodded, and then took Moose Boy’s hand for emotional support. 

“I suppose I should begin with who I am... My real father’s name was Maxim Volkov and it appears the Volkovs want me to join them…”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Siren stared at his screen and tapped his fingers thoughtfully on the desk as he considered what to do. He could see the impressive amount of security on the Team Red servers and knew there would be no subtle way to break through. Siren had gone ten years without keeping up to date on the latest technology and now his knowledge was sorely out of date. He wasn’t familiar with a lot of the defenses, and would need time to study them. The only thing he could do was bludgeon his way through the defenses like a bull in a chinashop. The Team Red tech-guy would definitely notice, but he didn’t really see any other options.

“Would you stop that noise?” Vess suddenly snapped from the other side of the lab.

Siren glanced down at his hand and stopped tapping without comment. He’d been relatively well-behaved in the lab for the last few weeks, and Vess was finally starting to adjust to it. Vess was honestly a little more tolerable due to not being overworked for once, and now that Siren was actually doing what he was supposed to, Vess found he actually had free time in the afternoons and evenings. Vess was very slowly starting to trust Siren to work without supervision, and he increased Siren’s workload little by little to see how much he could accomplish.

Siren did everything with no complaint, but the stress of the heavy workload was starting to get to him. He barely had time during the day to even take a lunch break, let alone work on his plan. He was staying up at night to hack and do research and so he was always exhausted, and always grouchy. He’d called the Team Crackle numbers thousands of times but no one ever answered. He now knew where the Team Red tech guy was, but he hadn’t reached out yet. Siren had no idea if Team Red could be trusted, and if they betrayed him, V.I.L.E would execute him. He needed to gain access to their servers and nose through their files before he spoke with them to make sure they had no ties to V.I.L.E.

Black Sheep had always been very close to Coach Brunt and he couldn’t rule out the possibility they were still in contact. That was if she was even still alive.

Siren stared at the wall of encryption on his screen and knew it would take hours to force his way through. He’d given a few pokes at the security and now it looked like they were already aware of him. The security had increased exponentially and he knew it was going to be no easy task to force his way through. It would take hours of continuous assault to gain access, and that was risky with Vess sitting so close to him. He definitely couldn’t do this while at the lab or Vess was bound to notice he wasn’t working. He’d need to stay awake during the night to hack the servers.

Siren closed the window on his laptop and then glanced up towards Vess. The other man was busy with the latest flu vaccine and Siren knew he’d likely be working late to finish the tests. Michael was sitting quietly to one side reading a comic, and it didn’t escape his notice that the boy had a black eye. He’d been rather quiet the last few weeks, and Siren was starting to suspect it was because of Vess. Michael normally loved to torment him, but he’d mostly kept his distance. Siren looked him up and down and could see more bruises that were mostly hidden by his sleeves and shirt collar. Siren knew Vess sometimes slapped Michael around, but this seemed to be something else entirely. 

Vess hadn’t shown any anger or aggression towards Michael in public, but Siren wondered if things weren’t quite so happy behind closed doors. Siren didn’t like Michael, but he knew no one deserved to be saddled with Vess. He watched as Vess absentmindedly reached over and rested a hand on Michael’s head like one would a dog. Michael smiled up at Vess but said nothing, simply leaning into the touch. Siren narrowed his eyes. Something wasn’t right here. Michael didn’t seem at all wary of Vess, and was completely relaxed around him. There was no coldness or anger in Vess’ eyes that Siren could see, and so the whole thing was strange.

“Michael, would you please go to our apartment and bring me the blue folder I left there?”

Michael’s smile was gone in an instant and uncertainty entered his eyes. Vess didn’t look up from his work, but he did give Michael a light poke.

“Michael? Did you hear me?”

“Uh, y-yeah, I’ll go get it.”

Michael gave a quick glance towards the door, and Siren was surprised Vess didn’t notice the odd behaviour. Siren pretended to be busy with work as Michael got up, but the second the younger man left the room, Siren stood to his feet.

“I’m hungry,” Siren announced.

Both Vess and Terry shot him identical looks of skepticism.

“It’s after one and I’m taking my lunch break,” Siren announced.

Vess narrowed his eyes at him. “Did you finish studying the case files of patient 34B1?” he demanded.

“Yeah,” Siren confirmed, “I have the case files memorized and I’ll put some thought into it during lunch.”

Siren had never once claimed to be hungry during the ten years he’d known him, and Vess was incredibly suspicious. Siren had been pretty well behaved lately, but he couldn’t help feeling like he was scheming something. He had no reason to deny him a lunch break however, and he gave him a nod.

“Terrence, you will accompany Siren as usual.”

“Yes, sir,” Terry confirmed.

Siren headed for the door and Terry followed behind him, wondering what Siren was up to. His suspicions were confirmed when Siren led them in the opposite direction of the cafeteria. Siren was stopping at the end of each hallway and peeking around the corner before proceeding and Terry simply watched, having no idea what he was doing. At the next corner, Terry peeked around the corner with him and saw they were following behind Michael who didn’t seem to notice them there.

“Siren, what are you doing?” Terry demanded.

“Shh!” Siren scolded, watching as Michael slowed down.

When Michael glanced back, Siren jerked back out of sight, hoping he hadn’t been seen. He waited a few seconds and then peeked again, only to come face to chest with Michael. Michael was standing arms crossed and he scowled down at the smaller man angrily.

“Are you following me, you weirdo?!” he demanded.

Siren let out a dismissive snort. “Of course not, who would want to follow **you**?”

Michael seemed unusually agitated and Siren gave him a curious look.

“What’s wrong?” Siren demanded.

“What?”

“Why are you so nervous? Is something wrong?”

Michael narrowed his eyes. “**Nothing’s** wrong! Why would anything be wrong?”

Siren let out a sigh. He really disliked Michael, but it was still clear he was hiding something.

“Are you and Numa having issues?” Siren demanded.

Michael’s eyes widened momentarily and then his expression turned furious. “Excuse me?! We’re not having any issues! Everything is fine!”

Siren mirrored Michael and crossed his arms. “Oh? Then why do you have new bruises everytime I see you?”

Michael scowled and suddenly lashed out towards him. Terry quickly caught Michael by the wrist and pushed him back. Michael winced and clutched his wrist like he’d been injured and Terry’s brow furrowed in concern.

“I barely touched him...” Terry commented.

Siren eyed the wrist and could see the dark bruising around it.

“You didn’t do that, those injuries were there,” he informed Terry, “Numa’s clearly been beating the shit out of him every night.”

“He has not!” Michael snarled, “Numa loves me, and he’d never hurt me!”

“I’ve seen him hit you,” Siren pointed out, “He’s not **capable** of real love.”

“Siren, that’s enough,” Terry ordered, seeing how furious Michael was getting.

“He only hits me when I deserve it!” Michael snarled, “I sometimes make stupid mistakes and he has a right to be angry with me!”

Siren sighed, knowing Michael was a lost cause. “And what about that black eye or that sprained wrist? Was that another ‘mistake’?”

Michael lashed out at him again only to be stopped by Terry who pushed him back several steps.

“I told you Numa didn’t hurt me!” Michael snapped, “Now mind your own fucking business and get away from me you ugly little eunuch! Leave or I’ll bash your face in!”

Terry let out a deep sigh, knowing he would never let that happen. Although Michael was younger and perfectly fit, Terry was a lot taller and heavier with more experience. Michael wouldn’t win that fight.

“Well, that’s not a very nice thing to say,” scolded a woman’s voice.

Michael tensed up, and slowly turned towards the woman standing behind him. The woman was incredibly short and thin, and she was wearing a guard’s uniform. Her gaze was entirely on Michael, who hunched his shoulders and took a step back.

“Oh, hello, Lisa,” Terry greeted, “I didn’t know you worked in the lab now.”

Lisa’s gaze went to Terry briefly and then settled on Siren.

“Oh, so this is the little sociopath,” she commented, her tone curious, “He doesn’t look so scary.”

Siren noted he was the same height as Lisa and remembered everyone in town had mistaken him for her.

“You got me in a lot of shit, you know,” she commented lightly, “People were mad at me for days after your little stunt.”

“Well, I think it says more about **you** than **me** when everyone assumed it was you just because I was acting like an asshole,” Siren responded.

Lisa narrowed her eyes. Terry knew Lisa’s reputation and subtly pushed Siren further away from her.

“He was punished for what he did,” he informed her, “It won’t be happening again.”

Lisa stared long and hard at Siren and then turned back towards Michael. She smiled at him widely, and then patted him on the head as she passed by. Michael was completely tense and just as she turned to leave, she shoved his head hard into the wall. There was a sickening crunch and then Michael began screaming as he clapped a hand to his bleeding nose. Michael took a swing at her, but she easily sidestepped him and gave him a hard punch to the stomach which brought him to his knees. He swung again, but she blocked and then punched him in the chest hard enough to knock him flat to the floor. Lisa waited for a moment, but when it was clear she had won, she wiped her hands off on her pants and then turned to walk away.

“See you later, Mikey,” Lisa said teasingly, giving him a wink as she disappeared around the corner.

Siren looked down at the blood on the floor and then at Michael who was clutching his face in absolute agony.

“Huh,” Siren commented, “I guess it **wasn’t** Vess after all…”

Terry despised Michael, but he still had pity for the boy and he knelt down beside him. 

“Here, let me see,” he ordered, reaching towards Michael’s face, “Move your hands.”

“Fuck off!” Michael hissed at him.

Terry gave him an unimpressed look. “Then go get Doctor Vess to take a look at your face. I think she broke your nose.”

Michael hesitated and then slowly lowered his hands so Terry could take a look. Terry gently touched the bloody and swollen nose and Michael let out a hiss of pain.

“Yup, it’s broken,” Terry confirmed.

“Aw, shit,” Michael groaned, “I’m gonna look like Owen Wilson!”

“You want me to fix it or do you want to go to Vess for that?”

Michael wiped some of the blood off his face and then averted his gaze.

“Just do it,” he ordered, “I’m not going to bother Numa with this.”

Siren knelt down beside Terry and stared at the crooked nose. “I think it’s an improvement,” he commented.

“Shut up, you little goblin!” Michael snarled.

Terry gently placed his hand on the nose, feeling for the break.

“So, you’ve been getting bullied by a girl?” Siren questioned innocently.

“I’m going to fucking ki-”

Terry yanked the nose back into place and Michael screeched in absolute agony. He immediately took a swing at Terry who simply batted the hand away from him.

“There, all fixed,” he told him, “Just put some ice on that and try not to break it again.”

“I hate you,” Michael moaned in pain, “...both of you. Fuck both of you.”

Siren couldn’t help but feel incredibly smug over this. The bully was now getting bullied and it was absolutely the highlight of his day.

“So she’s the one that’s been beating the shit of you every day?”

Michael glared at him. “No! I just didn’t want to hit a girl! I could have beat her into a bloody pulp!”

Siren snorted. “Sure you could’ve,” he responded, not pointing out the fact Michael had tried to fight back and failed miserably.

Michael looked both furious and embarrassed and he wiped a bit more blood off his face.

“So, what did you do to her?”

Michael averted his gaze.

“You were a pervert to her, weren’t you,” Siren responded, certain this was what happened.

Michael was instantly offended. “No, I ain’t no cheater! The bitch is just crazy!”

Siren raised a skeptical brow. “Uh huh…”

Michael then let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes. “You know that coffee girl that works in the cafeteria?”

Siren nodded. “Yeah? The one you beat the shit out of and sent to the medical wing?”

“Apparently she’s Lisa’s little sister...” Michael replied, “She was...rather pissed at me over the whole thing…”

“Huh,” Siren replied, wondering if the coffee girl had tattled to Lisa about all the Pepsi he’d been stealing from her. Perhaps he should start paying for his Pepsi...

“I’m surprised Doctor Vess hasn’t fired her for this,” Terry commented, “Why hasn’t he put a stop to it?”

Michael averted his eyes. “I didn’t tell him about it…” he admitted.

“Well, why not?” Terry demanded.

Michael flushed and didn’t answer. Siren stared at him for a moment and then smirked.

“You’re embarrassed,” he commented.

Michael turned even redder. “Shut up!” he snarled.

“Big tough MJ is embarrassed that he’s being beat up by a girl half his size!”

“I said shut up!” Michael ordered, getting to his feet, “If you tell anyone about this, I’ll **MURDER** you!”

A thought then occurred to Siren and he frowned. “Numa’s not a moron, he **must** have noticed you look like you were fed through a meat grinder.”

Michael crossed his arms. “I told him the truth that I’ve been getting in fights...I just didn't tell him with **who**.”

Siren knew how busy Vess had been lately and knew it was likely he’d taken Michael at his word because he was too busy to deal with it. Vess was so self-centered that he hadn’t even noticed how badly Michael was hurt.

“And what are you going to do about it?” Siren asked curiously.

Michael scowled. “Gonna kill her.”

“How? You can’t even land a hit on her. She’s been V.I.L.E trained while you’re just a street thug.”

“I don’t know, but I’ll deal with it!” Michael snarled at him, “Now leave me alone before I bust your face open!”

Siren rolled his eyes and glanced at Terry. “Okay, I’m bored now, let’s go back to the lab.”

“I thought you said you were hungry?” Terry demanded.

Siren gave him a look of disbelief. “And you believed me?!”

“Well, no, not really,” Terry admitted, “but you’re still going to eat lunch. Lucy packed you mac and cheese.”

Siren narrowed his eyes. “The white kind?”

Terry rolled his eyes. “Yes, the white kind.”

Siren sighed and then nodded. “Fine,” he agreed, “There’s a few things I want to tell you about too.”

As they walked away, Michael stared after them with a scowl. Touching a hand to his sore nose, he let out a furious curse and kicked the wall, leaving a hole in the plaster. Turning away, he stormed down the hallway feeling embarrassed and angry.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

“Are you alright, Sven?” Crackle asked in concern, “You don’t have to come along on the mission if you don’t want to.”

Otterman shook his head. “No, I could do with a distraction right now. I still have no idea what to do, and I need time to think everything through.”

“You’re not going to join them are you?” Theodore asked, frowning worriedly, “They nearly cut you in half!”

Otterman winced and placed a hand over his abdominal scar. “I know,” he replied, “That’s all I can think about. I understand they didn’t know who I was, but they still nearly killed me.”

“Send them your bill for therapy,” Neal suggested.

Otterman rolled his eyes. “What therapy? We can’t afford therapy.”

“True enough,” Neal acknowledged, “Maybe if we make some cash from this mission, we can set aside a therapy fund for anyone who needs it.”

“You mean **all** of us?” Paper Star responded in amusement.

Otterman laughed. “I think all of us had messed up childhoods. That would be a very expensive fund you’d have to set up.”

Neal smiled. “That’s right, laugh off the trauma!” he announced, “Speaking of buried trauma, has anyone seen Dash?”

Crackle glanced around, but there was no sign of the other man. “Dash?” he called out.

There was no answer.

“Maybe he’s in his tent?” Roosevelt suggested.

Crackle nodded and stepped outside. “Dash?” he called out loudly.

“I’m here!” Dash called back from his tent.

“What are you doing?” Crackle demanded, walking down the stairs, “We need to leave in a few minutes!”

“I’m not going!” Dash responded.

Crackle heaved a deep sigh, wondering why it was always Dash who caused a big fuss whenever they had to do anything.

“Yes, you are!” Crackle said firmly, crossing the yard towards Dash’s tent.

“I’m not!” Dash snapped back at him.

Crackle unzipped Dash’s tent and peered inside, expecting to see a sullen and stubborn Dash. Instead Dash stared at him with terrified eyes and said nothing.

“What’s the matter?” Crackle asked, “Are you sick? Did you hurt yourself!”

“No, no, it’s Steve!” Dash exclaimed, pointing to the nearby cat.

Crackle frowned and crawled inside the tent. “What’s wrong?”

“I think she’s going to have her kittens!” Dash told him, his voice incredibly nervous.

Crackle glanced down at the cat who was laying on her side, and he gently rested a hand on her bulging stomach. Steve looked up at him, gave a weak hiss but otherwise didn’t move.

“See! She’s not acting like herself! I think the kittens are coming!”

Crackle studied the cat, noted how she was breathing a little faster than normal and had to agree. “I think she is as well,” he agreed.

“What do I do?!” Dash demanded, “I should call the vet!”

“Dash, she doesn’t need a vet. Cats have been having kittens without help for thousands of years. She’ll know what to do.”

“I have to do **something**!” Dash insisted, moving several blankets around Steve to make a nest, “Don’t people usually get hot water and towels for some reason?”

“Why would you need that?”

“I don’t know!”

Crackle offered the other man a smile and gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “She’ll be fine, Dash. When we get back from the mission, there will be new kittens for you to meet!”

“I’m not leaving her to go on a mission!” Dash snapped, “She could get into trouble, or a dog could get in the tent!”

“The base is pretty much finished, and we can move her inside for now and leave the AC going for her. She’ll be perfectly safe and will have plenty of food and water while we’re gone.”

“No way!” Dash protested, “She needs me!”

“Dash you are **not** skipping a mission because of a cat. We all agreed to work on a contract basis for V.I.L.E, and we need you. Steve will be fine.”

“But Graham!”

“No buts! Put Steve inside and then meet us at the van. We should only be gone for a day.”

“But the kittens!”

“They will be safe with Steve. There's nothing you can do even if you stay!”

Dash looked incredibly stressed and Crackle rested a hand on his arm. “Come on,” he urged, “Bring Steve inside. I’ll help you carry her things.”

“Is it safe to move her?” Dash asked worriedly.

“Just be very careful,” Crackle advised.

Dash nodded and very, **very** gently scooped Steve up along with all the blankets and pillows and then carried her out of the tent. He passed by the rest of the team who gave him curious looks, but he didn’t say anything, too worried to think about anything except for Steve. The only completely finished room in the base was the bathroom, and so Dash carried her there and set up the pile of blankets and pillows in the shower. Crackle entered after him and set the litter box beside the toilet, and then set down the food and water bowls. Dash glanced around, but it seemed secure enough and so he petted Steve gently and then stood up to follow Crackle out of the base. Crackle locked the door after them, and Dash glanced towards the base, unable to stop the dread he was feeling.

“Is Steve okay?” Neal asked, as soon as they approached.

“She’s gone into labour,” Crackle informed them.

“Really?!” Theodore asked, instantly excited, “We’ll have kittens when we get back?!”

Crackle nodded. “We put her in the base so she’d be cool and safe while we’re gone.”

Dash said nothing at all and simply crawled into the van to wait for the others. Neal took the seat next to him.

“You okay, Dashie?”

Dash crossed his arms and glanced back towards the base.

“We could always ask Karen to cat sit for us?”

Dash slowly turned a withering look at him and Neal smiled at him innocently. “We’d come back and she’d have married Steve off to avoid the kittens being born out of wedlock.”

Dash sighed.

“She’d probably get an exorcism done while she was at it since the cat was contaminated by all of us ‘unnatural creatures’.”

Dash rolled his eyes, but didn’t comment.

“I can see it now! She’d name the kittens Purity and Faith and have them baptized.”

The mental image of this made Dash snort. “Yeah, that woman is not stepping foot near my cats.”

“Are you planning on keeping both kittens?”

Dash shrugged, the thought of giving them away making him feel uneasy. The others got into the van, and as they drove away, Dash gave one last glance towards the base.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Player was keeping an eye on the hacker, but so far they’d done no more than give the occasional poke to his defenses. Team Red were almost to Florida, and he was hoping whoever was trying to hack into him would get discouraged by the security and back off. Just as Player was beginning to relax, there was suddenly a full blown assault on his defenses. 

“Red, they’re trying to get though!” Player said through the com, as he quickly began to fight back.

“Can you hold them off?” Carmen demanded, her voice sounding alarmed.

“Yeah, I think so,” Player responded, “They don’t really seem to know what they’re doing and are trying to force their way through.”

“Will that work?” El Topo asked in surprise.

“No, not at all,” Player answered, “I’m going to throw them out in just a second.”

Player furiously typed and a few seconds later he had shoved the hacker out.

Siren, who was sprawled across his bed, frowned at the screen as he was thrown out. Sitting up, he pulled the laptop onto his lap and knew this was going to be a fight. He studied the line of code that had blocked him, memorized it and then began thinking of how to get past it. Breaking down the code in his mind, he understood what Player had just done and after a bit of thought, he knew how to counter it. Typing fast, he forced his way back in.

Player unknowingly mirrored Siren’s frown. “Oh no you don’t!” he muttered, once again blocking him from getting in.

This time Siren countered the attack and Player was forced to change strategies to once again throw him out. Siren followed the code and his mind analyzed it as he continued his attack, learning from his mistakes and coming at the servers with more force.

“...dang,” Player commented in frustration, “this person is really determined!”

“Should we abort the mission?” Ivy asked worriedly, “What if this guy gets through?”

“They’d have access to everything we’ve done, and all of our funds,” Player responded distractedly, “They’d find out absolutely everything about us and where I live and where the base is.”

Le Chèvre let out a curse in French. 

“Going radio silent guys because I need to concentrate,” Player informed them, “I’ll check in when your plane lands down.”

“Okay, Player, show V.I.L.E exactly what you can do!” Carmen encouraged.

Player went silent as he studied the approach the other hacker was taking. It seemed to be incredibly old-fashioned and they clearly didn’t recognize most of the defenses Player had set up. What surprised Player was that every time the hacker hit a trap or was thrown out, they learned from the mistake and got better and better. At first Player easily tossed them out or blocked them, but as time went on it became harder and harder to do this. 

Player found he had to pay complete attention to what the hacker was doing because they were quickly learning Player’s style of defense and overcoming it. Player was a little bit awed at the hacker’s learning curve, knowing they’d gone from barely knowing how to hack to giving him a good fight in just a couple hours. Whoever he was going up against was smart, and Player knew this was going to be a difficult battle.

Player began to lose ground against the hacker, and he was both frustrated and elated at the same time. He’d never had a battle like this before, and he wanted to know who this person was. He **had** to know who he was dealing with.

Changing strategies, Player pulled up his wall of impenetrable encryption and then began investigating his hacker. The hacker had left himself wide open for attacks and didn’t seem to have any defenses at all. Player gave a few hesitant pokes, but the hacker didn’t seem to notice what he was doing. The hacker was inspecting the wall of encryption, and Player knew he was wasting his time. It would take a supercomputer to even **begin** to break through his coding. To his shock, the hacker began attempting it anyway.

Player shook his head in disbelief and began hacking into the other person’s computer. He quickly discovered the hacker was using a laptop that didn’t really seem to have too much saved on it. Player then realized there was an active webcam on the laptop. Player smirked and began hacking it. Alright, time to see who this V.I.L.E hacker was.

The webcam went live and Player stared at the man that appeared on his screen. The man was young, had a rat’s nest of brown hair and looked like he hadn’t slept in a month. Dark circles were under his oddly coloured eyes, and he didn’t look like the usual type of operative V.I.L.E used. The man glanced towards the webcam for a moment but when he made no move to cover it, Player assumed he hadn’t realized Player was watching him.

Player then realized that the man wasn’t using any sort of equipment to aid him in hacking. Player’s eyes widened in shock, knowing that meant the other man was doing it all by memory. How was that even possible? He’d have to memorize **thousands** of numbers to be able to hack into him like this! Player then turned his attention back to his defense and to his horror, he saw the man was starting to get through it. That should have been impossible, and he knew the man would need a mind like a computer to even attempt something like this.

He could see the man’s mouth moving as he worked, and so Player hacked into the microphone to hear what he was saying. To Player’s utter confusion, the sound of singing came across his com. He stared at the man and realized he was singing Beatles songs to himself as he hacked. How could he concentrate while singing like that?!

Suddenly Player got an alert and when he looked back to the man’s progress, he saw he was somehow managing to plow his way through every level of security. 

“Shoot, shoot, shoot!” Player cried out, quickly going back to defending himself, “How is he doing this?!”

Siren seemed completely calm as he worked, and Player frantically tried to block him, but quickly realized he couldn’t. The man was managing to get through, and there was nothing Player could do to stop him. Player typed and typed and typed, but no matter what he threw at the other man, he managed to slice right through it and continue fighting to get into the servers. 

“No!” Player yelled as the hacker finally got into the servers.

He witnessed dozens of pages and documents opened and closed too fast to even read and he knew he had to get the man out before he found what he was looking for. The man had opened hundreds of documents, only keeping them open long enough for a glance and Player ran for the servers, knowing there was only one way to stop this. He yanked the power cord from the servers, and the hacker was instantly booted from the servers. Player let out a breath of relief and took a seat at his desk to continue watching the man. The man frowned, typed for a few seconds and then rolled his eyes. To Player’s surprise, the man then looked straight into the webcam and gave Player the finger.

“Sore loser,” Siren commented.

“Who **are** you?” Player asked, unmuting himself.

Siren scratched at his head for a moment and it seemed like he was debating on whether or not to answer.

“From what I’ve seen of your files, your team hates V.I.L.E and no longer have any ties to them at all. You’ve gone on a total of 73 missions against them, and almost all have been successful. You’ve managed to steal billions from V.I.L.E and there was nothing they could do to stop you.”

“There’s no way you read all that just now!” Player exclaimed, “You only had the files open for a few seconds!”

“That was long enough,” Siren responded, “Carmen Sandiego is still alive.”

Player went silent.

“Relax, I’m not going to tell V.I.L.E,” Siren informed him.

“And why would I ever believe that?” Player shot back.

“Because I want to join you.”

Player’s eyes widened. “What?!”

“Did I stutter?” Siren snapped, “I want to join Team Hero.”

“That...that’s not what we’re called…”

“Does it matter?” Siren challenged, “I hate V.I.L.E, you hate V.I.L.E and so we should work together to take them down.”

“You’re with V.I.L.E?” Player questioned.

“V.I.L.E kidnapped me and I’ve been held here against my will for the last ten years,” Siren responded bitterly, “I hate them, and I want to see all of V.I.L.E burn.”

Player didn’t trust him for even a moment. “You’re an operative?”

Siren shook his head. “No, I’m one of the scientists that work at Doctor Vesalius’ lab.”

Player gasped.”Hold on, don’t go anywhere!”

Siren rolled his eyes and didn’t answer.

Player muted himself and then pressed his ear-com. “Red, we have a situation here!”

“What is it, Player? Did the hacker get through?”

“He did, and I cut off all power to the Team Red servers.”

“Did the hacker gain access to anything important?” she asked worriedly.

“I don’t know, but that’s not the issue.”

“What is it?” Carmen demanded, “Did something happen?”

“I’m speaking to him right now, and well...he said he knows Carmen is alive and he wants to join Team Red! He said he works with Vess!”

“WHAT?!” Tigress shrieked in surprise.

“It is a trap!” Chase insisted.

“V.I.L.E must be planning something,” Shadowsan agreed, “This is highly irregular.”

“Who is it?” Carmen demanded, “One of Team Crackle?” 

Player shook his head. “I don’t know who this is, I’ve never seen him before.”

“Ask him for his name,” Shadowsan ordered.

Player nodded and switched back to Siren. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“Codename Siren,” Siren replied, “Are you talking to Carmen Sandiego right now?”

“I’ll be right back,” Player informed him, switching back over to Team Red, “He said his name is Siren.”

Shadowsan frowned. “There is no operative by that codename unless he was in the new class after I left V.I.L.E.”

“What should I tell him?” Player asked, “Should I tell him to buzz off?”

Carmen frowned thoughtfully. Why would an operative just contact them out of the blue like this? 

“Put him through to the plane’s screen,” Carmen ordered, “I want to speak with him.”

“Okay, Red, just a sec,” Player said, switching back to Siren, “Carmen wants to speak with you. I’m going to put you through to her.”

“Fine,” Siren agreed.

A few seconds later, Siren appeared on the large screen of the jet.

“Oh my god, **look** at this guy!” Tigress commented.

Siren turned his gaze to her. “I can hear you,” he snapped.

Tigress rolled her eyes, but made no further comment.

“Hello, you must be Siren,” Carmen greeted, staring at the strange man curiously.

Siren glanced around at the assembled team and his gaze fell on Shadowsan.

“Aw, fuck,” he commented, “I thought you’d be dead by now.”

Shadowsan stared at Siren in surprise and then his eyes widened as he recognized him. “Delano Scordato?!”

Siren nodded.

“No, you died during training!” Shadowsan exclaimed.

Siren rolled his eyes. “Clearly not,” he snapped, “I was kidnapped from the infirmary, and I’ve been in Vess’ lab ever since.”

“Impossible, I would have known about this!” Shadowsan retorted, “What reason could the others have for keeping you a secret?”

Siren snorted. “You have no idea what they do in this lab, do you?”

“Experimentation on operatives,” Shadowsan replied.

Siren let out another snort. “That’s just the tip of the iceberg. These assholes are doing so much more.”

“You said he was killed during training?” Carmen asked in confusion, “I don’t remember him!”

Siren stared at her long and hard. “Really?” he questioned, “You don’t remember shooting me with Bellum’s gun and melting my dick off?”

Carmen gasped, now recognizing Siren.

“Thanks for that, by the way,” Siren commented dryly, “It’s made my life so pleasant.”

Carmen gaped at him and then turned to Shadowsan. “You thought he was dead all this time?! You told me he was sent home!”

Shadowsan grimaced. “I did not want you to know you caused the boy to die,” he replied hesitantly, “It appears I was mistaken about his death…”

“You both know this guy?” Ivy demanded.

Shadowsan nodded. “He was a genius that was recruited to the academy by Professor Maelstrom along with his two brothers. He was given special treatment which I did not approve of, and he frequently skipped class. He had no respect for anyone, but was allowed to get away with it. He was injured two weeks before graduation and presumed dead.”

“Ouch, tough break,” Tigress commented, “Wait a sec...did you say your dick was melted off?!”

“Look, Marilyn Monroe, I’m not talking to you, I just want to speak with Carmen Sandiego.”

“What did you just call me?!” Tigress snapped, jumping to her feet.

“Sheena, that’s enough,” Carmen stated, “I want to hear what he has to say.”

“I know you’ve been working to take down V.I.L.E, and I want to help you,” Siren informed her.

“Why would we trust you?” Carmen replied, crossing her arms.

“I can provide you information about V.I.L.E and about Vess’ lab. I frankly don’t care whether you trust me or not.”

“And what’s in this for you?” Carmen demanded suspiciously.

“Get me out of this lab,” Siren answered, “All I want is my freedom.”

Carmen raised a brow. “That’s it?”

Siren nodded. “I have no allies, and I need help getting out. I honestly don’t give a shit about your moral high ground or your missions, but I’ll willing to help if you get me out of this lab.”

“Such a pleasant person,” Chase commented.

“This seems like a trap if I’m being honest,” Carmen informed him, “We don’t know you, and we have no reason to trust you.”

“You’re right,” Siren confirmed, “But I’ll throw you a free bit of information. This mission that you’re going on is a trap.”

“Excuse me?” Carmen asked in surprise.

“This mission in Florida is all a ploy to draw you out of hiding,” he replied, “V.I.L.E wants to know for sure if you’re alive, and they’re using Team Crackle to do it. Neal the Eel planted false information on the V.I.L.E servers stating that their mission was for the museum, when in fact, it was for the University instead. The museum has been rigged to explode the moment anyone steps foot inside during the fire drill.”

“You’re lying,” Le Chèvre commented, “We have no reason to believe a **single** word he’s said.”

“_ Et, si il ment, ça remet tout ce qu'il a dit en question _,” Chase commented back to Le Chèvre.

Le Chèvre nodded his agreement and switched to French as well. [[There’s no way this ugly little toad is being straight with us. He’s obviously working with Vess and trying to get revenge on Carmen. She melted his balls off, obviously he’s just being a bitter idiot to think we’d ever fall for this. Leave him to rot at that lab.]]

“_ Va te faire foutre, branleur! _ ” Siren snarled at Le Chèvre, “I don’t recall asking for **your** opinion, and so keep your mouth shut!”

Tigress laughed at Le Chèvre’s surprised expression. “That’ll teach you to assume someone can’t speak French!” she teased.

Le Chèvre flushed and then crossed his arms. “I don’t trust him,” he muttered.

“Do you have any proof this mission is a fake?” Carmen asked.

Siren nodded. “I can transfer the files I stole from Doctor Bellum’s personal com. It details the plan in full.”

Carmen gave a slow nod. “We’ll look them over,” she promised, “but I’m not saying that I trust you. Not yet.”

Siren rolled his eyes. “Look, ginger barbie, I don’t care if you trust me or not. I’ll help you out when I can, but I’m not putting myself at risk for you. Vess isn’t stupid, and if he realizes what I’m planning, I’ll be executed without hesitation.”

Carmen was a bit taken aback by the tone, but she gave him a hesitant nod. “Stay connected with Player during this mission, and I’ll speak to you after.”

“Fine,” Siren agreed, “Team Crackle are going for the University the same time the museum fire drill is happening. Their target is a one of a kind piece of medical equipment for Doctor Bellum.”

“Alright, we’ll be in touch,” Carmen responded, “End the transmission, Player.”

Player cut the feed, and now Player was the only one still connected with Siren. “The plane lands in twenty minutes.”

“I know,” Siren snapped.

Player crossed the room and plugged the servers back in, hoping Siren wouldn’t immediately try hacking into them again.

“Okay, so while we’re waiting, why don’t you tell me how you managed to hack into me the way you did?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

Player wasn’t sure how to take Siren’s irritable mood, and decided to just shrug it off. “You’re a good singer,” he commented, “Do you like The Beatles?”

Siren’s mood seemed to switch in an instant, and he nodded. “I enjoy a lot of the oldies,” he replied, “I like music that has a wide vocal range.”

“Is that why your name is Siren? Because you like to sing?”

Siren nodded. “I suppose. I was given the name by the other scientists in order to make fun of me. I love to sing while working, and a Siren was a female mermaid that sings. It was both a jab at my accident and a jab at my singing at the same time. It never really bothered me and so I’ve been Siren ever since.”

“I like it,” Player told him, “My codename is Player.”

“I know,” Siren told him, “I’ve done my research about your team.”

“Well, I don’t know anything about **you**, how about if you tell me a little bit about yourself?”

“No,” Siren responded, “I’m going to be ignoring you now. Tell me once the team fails the mission.”

“We’re not going to fail!” Player protested.

Siren said nothing and began typing on his laptop, clearly planning on ignoring him. Player watched him for a few minutes, and then let out a sigh and focused on Team Red.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

“Alright team museum, are you ready?” Carmen demanded. 

“Ready,” El Topo confirmed over his com.

“Ready,” Tigress confirmed.

“I’m ready,” Le Chevre answered.

“Perfect, you understand what your mission is?”

Le Chevre sighed. “You certainly went over it enough times,” he commented, “We’re looking to disable the explosives that Siren ‘claims’ are here.”

“The fire drill is in an hour and so you three need to be as fast as you can. Report the second you find anything.”

“Sure thing,” Tigress responded with a sigh. She obviously didn’t believe they would find anything either.

Carmen then glanced at the rest of the team still in the van with her. “Alright, now I’ll stay in the van and watch the security cameras while you guys keep an eye out for Team Crackle.”

Everyone nodded and they slid open the van door. Carmen watched as her teammates scattered in all directions, the only one remaining behind was Ivy. She was acting as the driver since Zack had remained in San Diego, and was staying to help protect Carmen.

“You think this Siren guy is legit?” Ivy asked, once the others were out of sight.

“I don’t know,” Carmen admitted, “It **does** seem awfully coincidental that he shows up the same time Team Crackle are planning a heist. This does seem like the sort of thing V.I.L.E would try to pull on us.”

“So he’s a liar?”

“Probably, but I still want to be sure. If he’s telling the truth and I refuse to help him, I’d be just as bad as V.I.L.E. I’m not going to turn my back on someone who asks for my help. If he’s truly the victim in this, then we will make sure he gets out when we take down Vess’ lab.”

Ivy nodded. “Just be careful. That guy was an asshole.”

Carmen laughed. “Well, not everyone can be as happy as you and Zack! You two are the chillest people I know!”

Ivy laughed as well. “We’re happy in this team, and so we kinda let our guard down a bit. I just don’t want anyone betraying us again after what happened with Le Chevre.”

Carmen sobered and she nodded in agreement. “He made a mistake, but it was something that could have torn this entire team completely apart. We need to be careful and make sure nothing like this happens again.”

“I’m in position and no sign of Team Crackle yet,” Shadowsan informed them over com.

“Nothing here either,” Chase stated.

“Nor here,” Julia said.

Carmen looked down at her watch and saw they still had a while before the fire alarm.

“Everyone just keep position until the fire drill.”

“Carmen?” El Topo suddenly cut in.

“What’s up, Antonio?”

“I just found several explosives in the basement of the museum. It’s enough to take the whole building down.”

“I’m on my way to you, mon ami,” Le Chevre stated, “Don’t touch them until I get there. I was always better at disarming bombs than you were.”

“So the messy wonder was telling the truth!” Ivy exclaimed, “We would have been blown up!”

“This could still be part of a trick,” Chase pointed out, “This could have been arranged to gain our trust.”

“That’s something we’ll have to keep in mind,” Carmen agreed, “Disable the bombs and be incredibly careful. We don’t want any of them detonating!”

“Relax, Carmen, this isn’t our first rodeo,” Tigress responded in exasperation. 

“Team Crackle spotted,” Shadowsan suddenly stated, “They’re pulling up in the East parking lot.”

“Dang, Siren is two for two on this,” Ivy said in surprise.

“Is the whole team there?” Carmen demanded.

Shadowsan watched as they piled out of the van. “They’re all here, and it looks like Moose Boy and Otterman have joined their team.”

Ivy let out a barking laugh. “Oh boy, they’ll probably foil the mission without any interference from us! Those two are absolute losers!”

“It does seem an unusual choice for this team…” Shadowsan agreed thoughtfully, “Otterman and Moose Boy don’t have the best track record when it comes to missions.”

“Well, at least we know where the weak link is!” Ivy answered, still snickering to herself.

“That’s eight against three…” Carmen said in concern, “We need the rest of our team to take them on. Guys, how long to disable the bombs?”

“Probably ten minutes,” El Topo said, “Then we have to dispose of them.”

“Team Crackle will get away before you can get here…” Carmen said worriedly, “I’ll need to fight.”

“No, you’re not!” Shadowsan said firmly over the com, “You are **not** leaving that van!”

“You need me!” Carmen insisted, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“No, the only thing you will succeed in doing is injuring yourself!” Shadowsan scolded, “Ivy, keep her in that van by all means necessary!”

“Shadowsan!” Carmen protested, “We’re going to fail the mission!”

“If we do, then so be it, but I will **not** jeopardize your life!”

Carmen had never felt more frustrated in her life and she clenched her hands into fists as she glared out the window. She’d never been one to sit aside as others did her dirty work and it felt wrong.

“I’m heading to the east parking lot now!” Chase announced.

“They just entered the building,” Shadowsan told him, “We will wait for them to exit and then ambush them. If we can get the piece of stolen equipment from them, we can consider this mission a success.”

Carmen switched the camera so she could see the East parking lot and she just caught a glimpse of Shadowsan as he took his position for the ambush. Five minutes later, the camera feeds all went dead, and she knew Crackle had disabled them.

“The cameras are down, and so they must be going for the equipment,” Carmen announced, “They’ll be making a run for it any time now.”

Suddenly there was the sound of an alarm and Carmen’s eyes widened. Team Crackle had tripped some sort of alarm! 

“I’m ready for them,” Shadowsan confirmed.

Within seconds Team Crackle burst out of the building at a run, and Shadowsan could hear Dash snarling at one of the others.

“Stupid, stupid stupid!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Moose Boy insisted, “It was an accident!”

“**YOU** were an accident!” Dash snarled back.

“The Police will be here any second, stop bickering and get in the van!” Crackle ordered, looking furious.

It was then that Shadowsan jumped from the roof and kicked Moose Boy to the ground. 

“Henrik!”

Shadowsan didn’t even hesitate and he grabbed a hold of Otterman and tossed him over his shoulder directly at the twins. Roosevelt easily caught him, set him back on his feet and then charged for Shadowsan. Chase then leapt out from behind a tree and hit Roosevelt as hard as he could in the face. Blood splattered, but the enormous man remained on his feet and he lashed out without hesitation towards Chase. Chase was faster and dodged to the side and hit him a second time. It was then that Theodore shoved Chase hard to the ground and kicked him before he could get back up. 

Paper Star threw a star straight at Chase’s throat, but the man managed to roll out of the way just in time, the star stabbing deeply into the pavement. She took aim again but she was hit hard from behind and she faceplanted into the pavement.

Julia was suddenly in the fray, and she kicked Paper Star’s paper pouch far from the fight and then dodged a hit from Theodore. Using her newfound fighting skills to go for Crackle, she lashed out at him before he could turn on the crackle rod. Crackle bashed her across the face with the rod, and then powered it on while she staggered back. Shadowsan then kicked Crackle to the ground hard, but was instantly tripped by Neal.

“Kia ora, Instructor Shadowsan!” he greeted cheekily, “Wasn't expecting you lot!”

Shadowsan rolled away and then kicked out at Crackle who was taking a swing for him.

Neal’s gaze fell on Julia, and he grinned at her. “Haven’t see you in a while, love! How you been?”

Julia’s response was to punch him straight in the face hard enough to knock him off his feet. Dash was instantly lashing out at Julia with his hat, slicing through the air viciously. Dash was a lot faster than she expected and he got a slice across one of her arms as she attempted to dodge to one side.

“Well, can’t say I was expecting that!” Neal commented, rubbing his jaw, “Where’s the rest of your lot?”

No one answered him, and Shadowsan found himself pitted against the twins and Moose Boy as the three enormous men worked together to take him down. Shadowsan knew they were completely outmatched, but he was still trying to figure out who held the equipment. He was subtly checking pockets as he fought, but there was no sign of it anywhere. 

Sirens began sounding in the distance, and by the sounds of them there were a lot of cars on the way. Crackle glanced towards the road, and then at his team.

“RETREAT!” he bellowed out, “Leave Team Red!”

Shadowsan’s eyes then fell on Otterman who had a suspicious bulge inside his shirt. Dodging around the swings directed at him, he ran for the thin man who didn’t even see him coming. Moose Boy did however, and with a speed Shadowsan wasn’t expecting, he threw himself in front of Otterman. Shadowsan dodged the punch that was aimed for his face and then tripped Moose Boy, reaching for Otterman. Otterman had something clutched in his hands and Shadowsan realized too late it was a can of mace. Shadowsan was sprayed directly in the face, and he was instantly blinded and in absolutely burning agony. 

Moose Boy hit Shadowsan hard in the stomach and then turned to check on his partner.

“In the van!” Crackle ordered, “Ignore them!”

Team Crackle knocked both Chase and Julia to the ground and then they ran for the van. Just as they got inside, Carmen ran around the bend, clutching her side and breathing hard. Crackle started the ignition and then his gaze met Carmen’s. His eyes widened in surprise and Carmen stared back at him, hoping he would **finally** be willing to speak with her. 

Crackle then narrowed his eyes and floored the gas, heading straight for Carmen. Carmen barely had time to throw herself to the side, the van brushing against her as she fell.

Carmen was sprawled on the pavement gasping for air, her whole body exhausted and in pain. Chase was hovering over her a few seconds later as Julia attended to Shadowsan.

“Are you hurt?” Chase asked in concern.

Carmen couldn’t seem to speak, but she mutely shook her head. Chase scooped her into his arms and then headed back for the van as Julia led the blind Shadowsan.

“Carmen, I don’t know what just happened, but I am incredibly angry over it,” Shadowsan informed her.

Carmen didn’t answer, still fighting to get her breath.

When they reached the van, Ivy was standing beside it looking incredibly nervous. 

“I tried to stop her! I swear! She snuck away when I dropped a cheeto under the seat and went down to get it!”

“I-I’m fine!” Carmen wheezed.

The sirens were almost to them and so they jumped in the car, and peeled out of the parking lot as fast as they could. Once they were a safe distance away, they stopped at a convenience store and bought a gallon of milk to clean the mace out of Shadowsan’s eyes. Once Shadowsan could finally see again, he turned a glare on Carmen.

“What did you think you were doing?” he snapped, “You could have been hurt!”

“I wasn’t going to fight, I was just hoping to speak with Crackle,” Carmen admitted sheepishly, “I was hoping his anger had cooled down a bit…”

“I think he gave you his answer,” Chase replied.

Carmen’s face coloured and she reached up a hand to her ear-com. “Player, patch Siren through again.”

“Um...there’s a slight problem with that…” Player responded.

Carmen furrowed her brow. “What is it? Did Siren log off?”

“Sort of…”

“Sort of?” Carmen questioned, “Did something happen to him?”

“Er...he fell asleep.”

Carmen’s eyes widened. “He fell asleep right in the middle of the mission?!”

“Yup, I was chatting with him and he just sort of slumped over. He’s still connected to me, but he’s completely out cold.”

“See if you can wake him up,” Carmen instructed, “I need to speak to him.”

Sure thing, Red," Player replied, muting himself on her end.

He turned his attention to his screen where Siren could be seen passed out, hand still on his keyboard.

“Siren?” Player said loudly.

There was no response.

“Siren!” 

Still silence.

Player took a deep breath and then yelled into his mic as loudly as he could. “**SIREN**!”

Siren jerked upright in a panic, looked confused for a moment and nearly knocked the computer off his lap.

“I’m awake!” he cried out, catching the laptop before it fell.

“Good, Carmen wants to speak with you,” Player informed him, “Do you want me to connect you over?”

Siren rubbed at his eyes and nodded silently. Player patched him through to Carmen’s com, and Siren did **not** look very with it.

“Okay, Siren’s on the line,” Player informed Carmen.

“Past your bedtime, Siren?” Carmen teased.

“Go to hell,” Siren muttered with a yawn, “It’s been like three days since I’ve slept. Have you failed your mission yet?”

Carmen frowned and hesitated. “...yes,” she admitted, “Why were you so sure we’d fail?”

Siren let out a snort. “Because you are too much of a hero to ever allow that museum to explode and so I knew you would split your team between the two missions. Half a team is no match for Team Crackle.”

Carmen wasn’t sure how she felt about that observation, but she decided to ignore it. “What exactly do you want, Siren? You saved my team’s lives, and so I owe you one.”

“I want to join your team, and I want to help destroy Vess’ lab.”

Carmen nodded. “Alright Siren, I’m still not sure I can trust you, but I’ll accept you on a trial basis.”

“Send me the specifications for your ear-coms so I can link up with the team,” Siren ordered, “I won’t be able to stay in touch very often during the day, but I can reach out at nighttime if you need me.”

“Player will get you set up, but I want you to provide us with everything you know about Vess’ lab and V.I.L.E.”

“Fine,” Siren agreed, “I’ll transfer over the information once I have the chance sometime this week. Vess keeps a really close eye on me, and so it will take me a few days to gather all the information together.”

“That’s fine,” Carmen assured him, “Just be careful. I don’t want to be responsible for getting you caught.”

Siren snorted. “I’m not an idiot,” he retorted, “I’ll be fine. I’m going to bed now considering I have to get up for work in two hours.”

“Siren?”

“What?” Siren demanded, impatiently.

“Welcome to Team Red.”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Crackle passed off the equipment Doctor Bellum wanted to an operative they met at the airport and they were paid in cash which Otterman immediately took and counted. When they confirmed the agreed upon cash was there, they nodded to the operative and they boarded opposite planes and went on their way.

The whole flight back to San Diego, Dash was fidgety and irritable, and other than helping the others tend to their wounds, he didn’t say much. No one was hurt more than a few scrapes and bruises and they were in pretty high spirits.

“So, how many more of these jobs do we have to pull to be able to finish the base?” Crackle demanded. 

“This should almost be enough to finish everything,” Otterman replied, “We now have enough for the roof, and I’m going to allocate an amount for Dash to use for each bedroom.”

“Finally!” Dash exclaimed, “I can actually start some **real** designs! I have plenty of ideas, but until I know my budget, it’s difficult to plan. How much are you giving me?”

Otterman dug inside his jacket pocket and pulled out his ledger. After making a few calculations, he closed the book and glanced up.

“I can give you ten thousand dollars.”

Dash immediately crossed his arms angrily. “Ten thousand dollars? The rooms are going to look like absolute garbage if I only have ten thousand per room!”

“No, you misunderstood me,” Otterman replied.

Dash raised a brow. “Oh?”

“You have ten thousand to do the whole base, not just one room.”

Dash’s eyes widened. “That’s impossible! That’s only a thousand per room! How do you expect me to completely furnish and paint a room with only a thousand dollars?”

“There’s a large indoor yardsale coming up on the weekend at the firehall,” Otterman replied, “You’ll have to try to get some good deals on furniture there. As for paint, we’ll have to buy the gallons that other customers returned. We likely won’t get much choice on the colour, but they’re incredibly cheap.”

“Secondhand furniture?” Dash repeated, “That is the most disgusting thing I have ever heard of!”

“Calm down, Dash,” Crackle ordered, “It’s only temporary. The more jobs we pull, the better things we’ll be able to afford. The faculty are going to be in touch with me to discuss our next heist.”

Dash had absolutely no intention of sleeping on a second hand mattress but didn’t especially care if the others had to. He’d have to play around with the budget a lot if he wanted to make sure his own room wasn’t a disaster. A good mattress alone could be over $1500 and that would take a lot of shifting funds around.

Dash went silent and went back to staring out the plane window. He was incredibly worried about Steve, and was certain something terrible had happened. For years Dash had carefully avoided getting attached to anyone and anything, knowing how easily he could be hurt by it. When he joined Team Crackle however, he found it harder and harder to shut off his emotions. People were difficult and untrustworthy, but Steve was different. The cat had easily won him over, and despite being allergic to cats, he quickly got attached to the shabby stray. After spending years of loneliness working for Cleo, he didn’t want to ever experience that again.

Team Crackle was his new family, but had a special affection for Steve. If she died while he was on a mission, it was going to hit him hard.

The moment Team Crackle arrived home, Dash ran for the base ahead of the others and quickly unlocked the door. He burst into the base and ran for the bathroom door, terrified he would find Steve dead. Throwing open the door, his gaze went to the nest of blankets, certain something had happened.

He found Steve curled up in the nest of blankets, blood smeared all around. Steve looked up at him and tiredly meowed, but she made no move to get up. Dash knelt down beside her and stroked her head in relief, glad that she seemed fine. Did she already have the kittens? Giving her another reassuring pat, he reached underneath all her fluff looking for kittens. He found one and pulled it out and saw it was a tuxedo cat. 

The kitten was clean, dry and it looked healthy. The kitten realized it had been taken away from its mother, and it mewed pitfully, squirming in his hold. Steve immediately reached over and plucked the kitten out of Dash’s hand and put it back in the nest, licking its head affectionately. Dash reached under her again and pulled out the second kitten and saw this one was solid orange like its mother.

“The kittens are here?” Crackle asked, peeking over his shoulder.

Dash nodded happily. “They both look great!”

The rest of the team began squeezing into the small bathroom, all glancing down at the tiny kittens. Theodore reached down and picked one up and Dash immediately let out a cry of alarm, certain the enormous man would accidentally crush it. Theodore was incredibly gentle however, and he ran a massive finger across the kitten as he grinned down at it. 

“It’s cute!”

“I told you she’d be fine,” Crackle commented, reaching towards Steve who hissed at him.

“What are you going to name them?” Neal demanded, “I vote for Slug and Snail!”

“Over my dead body are they being named that!” Dash snarled, “I already have names picked out!”

“What about the third one?” Paper Star asked.

“What?” Dash asked, caught off-guard.

Paper Star pointed, and sure enough there was a third kitten hidden in Steve’s fluff. Dash carefully picked it up and saw it was a calico. He quickly searched the rest of the nest, but there were no more.

“She was hiding another kitten this whole pregnancy!” Neal laughed, “Sneaky girl!”

“Now they can be named, Slug, Snail, and Maggot!”

“Go away, Neal!” Dash snapped, “Your greasiness is bad for the kittens!”

“Well, what are you going to name them?” Otterman demanded, leaning in closely so he could see them.

“The Tuxedo kitten is Gucci, the ginger kitten is Chanel, and the calico is Hermes!”

“Hermes?” Crackle questioned in surprise, “That’s a really awesome name!”

Dash gave him a confused look. “Why?

“Hermes is the perfect name for a Team Crackle kitten! It's so clever! We're all thieves, and Hermes was the greek god of **thieves**! A really awesome name for our cat!”

“No, he's named after the purse brand!” Dash snapped.

Crackle rolled his eyes. Of **course** it was a purse brand.

Crackle gently patted the calico, secretly thinking he liked his idea better. Dash wasn’t sure how safe it was for so many people to be handling the kittens and so he took them back and placed them in the nest with Steve.

Steve, who was glaring at all the people in the room, was clearly not happy with this situation.

“Steve is tired, everyone out!” Dash ordered.

“But this is the bathroom!” Roosevelt protested, “I have to pee!”

“Tough, go use the portapotty!” Dash snapped, shoving everyone towards the door, “Everyone leave Steve and the kittens alone!”

“What about you?” Moose Boy demanded.

“I’m staying here in case Steve needs anything!” Dash responded.

Neal exchanged a smirk with Paper Star, but everyone did back out of the room to leave the cats alone. As the rest of the team made their way to the kitchen to grab a few drinks, a loud knock came at the door.

“Bloody hell!” Crackle said angrily, “I swear that better not be Karen making another noise complaint! I’m going to tell that bint to go jump off a bridge!”

Crackle stormed towards the door and threw it open expecting to see their neighbour Karen standing there. Instead he was met with the sight of a fully costumed Plague Doctor and Matryoshka.

“We would like to speak with Sven if you please,” Matryoshka informed him.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**The next chapter should be posted in 2 weeks around the 1st**

**A huge thank you to the super-talented artists who did artwork for this chapter!**

**Violetfic created two awesome pics this chapter! She created the pics of Plague Doctor crawling out of the grave, and of the Team Crackle vs. Team Red fight!!  
**

**Coulrosaurus created the adorable pic of Steve and her kittens!** ****

.

**Credit for the names of Otterman and Moose Boy go to Animedemon01**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**

**Please don't forget to let me know what you think! **


	33. The Debt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone!
> 
> This chapter has a timeskip in it from October to November and make sure to pay attention so you don't get confused. There will be another timeskip next chapter to December.
> 
> An enormous thank you to the very awesome Violetfic and Coulrosaurus for offering plenty of good suggestions, and for being my betas! They both seriously offered SO many suggestions for this fic that they both deserve some recognition! You guys really helped improve this story a lot and you're awesome!
> 
> Please note that Dr. Vess and Michael Jr. both use the F-word extremely frequently in their everyday speech. You have been warned. Dr. Vess was created by Violetfic, and I am using him with her permission.
> 
> If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 33**

**The Debt**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Team Crackle Base**

**San Diego, California**

**October**

“We would like to speak with Sven if you please,” Matryoshka stated firmly.

Matryoshka and Plague Doctor stood in the doorway and Crackle immediately placed himself between them and the rest of his team. They made no move to enter or attack however, and both teams simply stared at each other.

Team Crackle seemed to freeze indecisively for several moments, but their surprise was quickly broken by Paper Star’s sudden gasp of fear. A star was thrown straight at Plague Doctor’s throat who easily blocked it with a swing of his scythe. As Paper Star surged forward to attack, Plague Doctor did the same, but he was quickly collared by Matryoshka and yanked back. Roosevelt caught hold of Paper Star who immediately began struggling and fighting to get free.

“Sorry,” Roosevelt whispered softly, “Not yet. Wait for Crackle’s orders. We won’t let anything happen to you, I promise. They’re not going to hurt you.”

Crackle and Matryoshka stared at one another in silence, and Crackle narrowed his eyes.

“How did you find us?” he demanded, his hand edging to the crackle rod on his belt.

“We have our ways,” she responded, her eyes searching the crowd for Otterman.

Her gaze settled on him standing far behind the others, and it didn’t escape her notice that the entire team was protecting him.

“I wish to have a peaceful conversation,” Matryoshka stated calmly, “We will **not** fight unless you make us. If we’re forced to fight to get to Sven, you can expect **heavy** casualties. I **will** speak with my nephew one way or another.”

“He doesn’t **want** to speak with you,” Crackle said firmly.

Matryoshka stared at Otterman whose face was a cross between terrified and furious at the same time. 

“We gave him time to calm down, but we need to resolve this now,” she replied, “I will not be shunned again.”

Crackle shook his head slowly, and exchanged a look with the others, knowing this fight could get ugly. Neal cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders to loosen them up as he readied himself to fight. The twins took a solid stance, but Roosevelt didn’t let go of Paper Star just yet. Moose Boy was shielding Otterman and his expression was completely murderous, and it was obvious no one was getting near Otterman while Moose Boy was still standing. Suddenly a voice cut through the silence.

“Let them in.”

Crackle turned a surprised look to Otterman who was glaring at the unwanted visitors. “Sven?” he questioned.

“It’s fine,” Otterman insisted, “I’ll listen to what she has to say.”

Crackle hesitated a long moment and then gave the other man a nod. He stepped aside and motioned for them to enter. Team Crackle parted, and Matryoshka stepped inside, followed by Plague Doctor who was still clutching his scythe tightly. The table was just a piece of plywood on a sawhorse, but they were invited to take a seat, which they reluctantly did. Paper Star looked absolutely murderous, but Roosevelt kept hold of her as he backed away to give them room.

“I will listen to you, and then you will leave,” Otterman informed them angrily.

“Thank you, Sven, that’s all I want,” Matryoshka replied in a soft tone.

Otterman took a seat across from them and then crossed his arms, clearly not very happy with this situation.

“I want to speak with them alone for a few minutes,” he announced to the rest of the team.

“Absolutely not,” Crackle responded, “They are a threat to this team, and a threat to **you** . You will not be left alone with them. **Ever**.”

“This is family business and does not concern you,” Matryoshka stated, giving Crackle an annoyed look.

“They **are** my family,” Otterman responded angrily, “All of them. Graham and Henrik will remain.”

Crackle frowned at this but nodded. “Everyone, please wait outside the door in case we need you. I will oversee this meeting and make sure nothing happens.”

“You sure?” Neal asked in concern, “I think we should all stay.”

Crackle nodded. “I’ll be fine, and I won’t allow them to try anything. I want to respect Sven’s privacy as much as I can. Please wait outside.”

Paper Star angrily yelled several things in Japanese, and Roosevelt carried her from the room, knowing she couldn’t be trusted to be released. Once everyone else was gone, Moose Boy and Crackle took a seat at the ‘table’ and gave Matryoshka an unfriendly scowl. Plague Doctor clearly wasn’t comfortable with this situation either, and he didn’t once loosen his grip on his scythe, clearly expecting an attack at any moment.

Matryoshka crossed her legs delicately, and then turned her gaze to Graham. “I don’t know how much Sven has told you but-”

“I told them everything,” Otterman interrupted angrily, “Family doesn’t keep secrets...or at least they **shouldn’t**.”

Matryoshka’s eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t comment on it. “Sven, I know you were wronged, and I’m sorry for it. I never wanted to hurt you, and I don’t want to lose you over this. I made a **lot** of mistakes in my life, but I’ve always loved you. I never would have left you behind if I’d known the truth. You’re my nephew and I just want to know you.”

“Here’s the thing,” Otterman responded slowly, “You were willing to torture and kill Paper Star on camera just to get back at V.I.L.E. **That** asshole over there tried to slice me in half, and who knows what other horrors you’re responsible for! I want no part in **anything** like that. My team are thieves, but we do **not** commit atrocities like The Void.”

Matryoshka averted her gaze. “I completely understand that,” she acknowledged, “But what** you** don’t understand is that our family is at war. V.I.L.E made the first move against us, and as a result your father was killed and so was your uncle Alexei. V.I.L.E will not leave our family alone, and they are determined to wipe us out completely.”

Otterman’s expression hardened. “That man was **not** my father,” he spat, “He was a disgusting rapist who got what he deserved!”

Matryoshka paused. “So you know about that..”

Otterman took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down. “I called my mother and she told me **everything**.”

“It’s true…” Matryoshka admitted carefully, “Maxim was **not** a good person, and he did many terrible things in his lifetime. He didn’t care about family and went against everything the Volkovs believed in. He hid his true self from us, and he almost ruined the entire Volkov empire. He did unspeakable things to your cousin out of jealousy, but luckily he was stopped before it was too late.”

“I have a cousin?” Otterman asked in surprise.

Matryoshka nodded. “Yes, your cousin’s name is Yuri Volkov and he would be around twenty-two or twenty-three by now. He is the son of Alexei, and was a sweet and gentle boy. I only met him once, but he left a very good impression on me. Dmitry adored him.”

Otterman narrowed his eyes. “And where is he now?” he demanded, noticing the past tense she used.

“I don’t know,” Matryoshka admitted, “He was enrolled at a private school in London, and the same time Alexei was supposed to collect him, he and Dmitry were attacked by V.I.L.E. Alexei was killed and Dmitry spent a long time in a psyc...in a hospital. When we went looking for him in London, there was no trace of him. We’ve been looking for him for the last five years.”

“Do you think V.I.L.E found him?” Otterman questioned with a frown.

The thought of a family member that was not a complete psycho intrigued him, and he wondered what the boy thought of the rest of the family.

“I wouldn’t put it past them,” she replied, “They vowed to kill every single Volkov, and if they found him, it wouldn’t bode well for him. My hope is that another Volkov found him and he’s in hiding.”

Otterman turned his gaze to Plague Doctor who was still clutching his scythe tightly.

“And what do **you** have to say about all this?” Otterman demanded.

Plague Doctor cocked his head and said nothing.

“How am I supposed to even begin to trust you when you won’t even speak to me?” Otterman snapped, “I want to hear your side of things.”

Plague Doctor shifted a bit and then glanced over at his sister.

“Dmitry...doesn’t speak very much anymore,” she explained, “Alexei’s death was rather traumatizing and it affected him badly…Although he can’t say it, he does want you in our family!”

“He tried to cut Sven in half,” Moose Boy suddenly said, startling everyone, “I almost lost him because of what he did!”

“We were in a fight for our lives at that warehouse,” Matryoshka defended, “You killed dozens of our men and we were just trying to survive! We had no idea who Sven was at that time, and Dmitry did what he had to do!”

“No!” Moose Boy snapped, “I am tired of people hurting Sven, and I’m not going to allow it any more! That bird man never even apologized for almost killing him!”

“He **is** sorry, that’s why he’s here!” Matryoshka snapped, “We’re trying to make things right!”

Plague Doctor turned to Sven and then reached out a hesitant hand towards him. It was obvious it was meant to be an apologetic gesture, but Moose Boy reacted on instinct. Without any hesitation, he drove his fist into Plague Doctor’s face and knocked him to the floor.

“Henrik!” Crackle immediately scolded, “Sit down, **now**!”

Moose Boy got out of his chair and then began rounding the table towards Plague Doctor who was still sprawled on the floor.

“Don’t you **dare** touch him!” Moose Boy snarled, hauling off and hitting him a second time, “You so much as touch a hair on his head and I’ll rip you to shreds!”

“Henrik!” Otterman gasped in surprise, “It’s alright, calm down!”

As Moose Boy raised a fist to hit him again, Plague Doctor reached for his scythe. Matryoshka could see exactly what was going to happen and so she quickly caught Plague Doctor by the arm before he could lash out. Plague Doctor struggled against her for a moment, and Otterman’s eyes widened in fear, realizing Plague Doctor had been fully prepared to kill Henrik. Remembering the pain of being cut with that scythe, Otterman clutched his stomach and felt sick.

“Stop it **now**, Dmitry!” Matryoshka snarled, “You are not fighting anyone!”

Plague Doctor yanked his scythe away from her, but he did go still and didn’t seem like he was going to attack.

Placing herself between the two men, Matryoshka quickly made sure her brother was unhurt, and then looked up at Moose Boy who towered over her.

“It is only because of the respect we have for Sven, that I’m going to let this slide,” she said warningly, “Enough. Do not touch my brother again!”

Otterman and Crackle dragged Moose Boy back and forced him to sit down. Moose Boy was breathing heavily and he was glaring hatefully at Plague Doctor and there was no doubt that he wanted to hit him a few more times. Plague Doctor got back to his feet and he took a step towards Moose Boy but Matryoshka quickly shoved him in the chest to back him up.

“Dmitry, wait for me outside,” Matryoshka ordered, “This is a peaceful meeting, and you are **not** going to use that damn scythe on anyone.”

Plague Doctor shook his head, but Matryoshka gave him another shove. 

“No arguing! Wait outside!”

Plague Doctor stood silent for a moment and then to everyone’s surprise, he simply turned and headed for the door. They watched him go, and once the door closed, Matryoshka let out a deep sigh.

“I’m sorry for that,” she told them, “He never thinks before acting and didn’t realize that he shouldn’t have tried to touch you.”

“What exactly do you want?” Otterman demanded, “It’s a little late to adopt me, and so I don’t know what you’re expecting.”

“I want us to be family again,” Matryoshka responded, her tone pleading, “I know we’re not the best family, and we’re all a bit damaged, but I want you to be part of it. I’ve missed having my little otter in the family.”

Otterman rubbed the bridge of his nose and let out a deep sigh. “I don’t even know who you are anymore,” he pointed out, “I’m tired of everything in my life going wrong. I feel like my every decision is wrong, and I frankly don’t trust you. I was finally happy, and I finally felt like everything was working out. You have done nothing but disrupt everything I’ve been working towards.”

“That’s not my intention,” Matryoshka promised, “I just want us to be family again.”

Otterman narrowed his eyes suspiciously and hesitated as he glared at her.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Otterman demanded, “You’re hiding something…”

Matryoshka seemed surprised and then she smiled at him. “You always were such a clever little thing…”

“What is it?” Otterman demanded, “What do you want from me? I’m not giving you any organs.”

Matryoshka rolled her eyes. “I want your team to merge with The Void,” Matryoshka stated, taking her seat again.

“Absolutely not!” Crackle roared angrily, “That is **never** going to happen!”

Matryoshka ignored him and continued. “Your team is filled with incredibly talented fighters and you would be valuable additions to The Void. I understand that you left V.I.L.E, and you have no loyalty towards them. Family should remain together, and Sven belongs with **us**. We can all be on the same side.”

“Like hell-” Crackle began, but was interrupted by Matryoshka.

“Merge with us, Sven, and your team will never have to fear V.I.L.E or anyone else ever again. We will keep you safe, and you will have our complete loyalty.”

“No.”

Matryoshka frowned at Otterman, clearly not expecting to be rejected so quickly.

“I understand that it will take a long time for you to fully trust us, but we just want you in our family,” she replied.

Otterman shook his head. “I understand that you want to get to know me and perhaps over time that will be something we can arrange, but I will **not** be joining The Void. This is my home, this is my family, and I will not be changing it for anyone.”

Matryoshka stared at him long and hard and then crossed her arms. “Your team killed **dozens** of my men, ruined a hostage exchange with V.I.L.E, made us abandon our Tokyo base, and cost us over twenty million dollars. If you were any other person, The Void would have declared war on your team. I will not do that however, but I want you to join us.”

“No,” Otterman repeated, his tone growing spiky.

“The rest of The Void will expect reparations to be made if you won’t join us. I do not have sole leadership, and I have to be able to justify the heavy losses we experienced. If your team merges with us, we will call the debt even. Adding eight new fighters to our ranks will greatly outweigh the debt and the others will be satisfied.”

Otterman narrowed his eyes. “You’re trying to **blackmail **me?!”

Matryoshka shook her head. “No, this is just how the world of criminal empires work, Sven. In order for our organization to function, we can’t be throwing away millions of dollars. I would be willing to take on your debt if I had the funds, but that is simply beyond my means. You will need to join us, otherwise The Void is going to expect payment to keep the peace between our two teams.”

Otterman suddenly slammed his fists down on the table and his expression was downright dangerous. “I know you’re trying to manipulate me and it’s **not** going to work!” he snarled, “I don’t care if I have to work at **McDonalds** to pay you back, but I’m **never** joining The Void!”

Matryoshka didn’t seem bothered by his outburst and simply stared at him for a long moment. Her expression was thoughtful as she replied. “You look so much like Maxim when you lose your temper…”

Otterman recoiled like he’d been slapped, and he was to his feet in an instant. “Out!” he snarled, “GET OUT OF MY HOME!”

“Sven, don’t be like that,” she scolded, “why don’t we just put all business aside for the moment and simply speak for a while just as aunt and nephew? No plans, no schemes, just two people talking.”

Otterman glowered at her, tempted to point out she was the one to bring up ‘business’ in the first place.

“You just tried to blackmail me after trying to kill my boyfriend and you want me to just look past that?!”

“Dmitry is very reactive, and I had nothing to do with that. I stopped him, and I made him leave,” She defended, “Your team are villains and so are mine, and so you have to give him a bit of leeway.”

Otterman glared at her. “I told you to leave me alone at the beach, but yet you forced your way into my home.”

Matryoshka nodded unapologetically. “You left us with no other choice. I just want to speak with you, and I know I can make you understand. The Volkovs have been put through absolute hell, and we only do these things to survive.”

Otterman rubbed a hand across the scar on his stomach, remembering the pain and terror he’d felt when he’d been certain he was going to die. Otterman had hurt people himself in his career as a villain, but he’d never done so in such a brutal way. Closing his eyes for a moment, he took a deep breath as he tried to get his emotions under control.

He remembered how his aunt had given him the only good memories of his childhood, and he knew how much he had loved her. She always had a smile or a hug for him, and she was always willing to listen to what he had to say. He had vivid memories of how she would take him to the candy store and let him buy anything at all he wanted. It had felt like a dream at the time, and it was like he was Charlie entering the chocolate factory for the first time. He remembered how he had followed his aunt absolutely everywhere, holding her hand but she hadn’t minded. She had affectionately called him her little otter, and he had loved the nickname.

Otterman felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach and he opened his eyes to look at Matryoshka. This was the same aunt who had held him when he was scared, the same woman who had fought the man he had believed to be his father on more than one occasion to protect him. She looked a lot older now, a lot more tired, but he could still see the fearless woman he remembered. He had loved her once, and he felt a deep and terrible pain at what she had become.

“I will make no promises,” Otterman said slowly, “but I’ll keep an open mind.”

“Sven, no!” Moose Boy protested, “What are you doing?! They’re just going to hurt you! I’m **not** going to let anyone hurt you ever again!”

“This is **my** decision,” Otterman replied, “She was kind to me as a child, and so I owe her this much. I will listen, but I can’t promise to ever trust her.”

“I understand,” Matryoshka assured him, “It’s been so long, and we’ve become strangers. I just want to get to know you again, and I want to know everything about you and your partner.”

Otterman took Moose Boy’s hand and Matryoshka offered him a smile.

“Give me your phone number,” Otterman requested, sliding his com towards her, “It’s late and I doubt we’ll be able to talk much longer tonight. We just got back from a mission, and we’re all tired.”

“Of course,” Matryoshka replied, picking up the com. She typed for a few moments and then glanced up. “I put my number as well as Dmitry’s in your contacts. If you ever can’t reach me, text Dmitry and he usually responds fairly quickly.”

Otterman nodded and accepted his com back. “How long are you staying in San Diego?” he demanded.

Matryoshka shrugged. “We’re running things remotely right now since The Void needs to be rebuilt. It takes time to train new men and so we’ve sort of been on...vacation. We’ll probably head back in a few weeks.”

“San Diego is nice,” Otterman commented, “Very different climate than I’m used to.”

“It’s delightfully hot here,” Matryoshka agreed, “I love the heat, but Dmitry hates it. He’s the pastiest Russian who was ever born and he’s been sunburnt since we arrived.”

“How is his leg?” Otterman asked, “Stingray barbs can be pretty nasty.”

Matryoshka rolled her eyes and waved him off. “He’s fine, he’s always getting himself hurt in stupid ways. He’s simply the unluckiest human being I’ve ever met. He got a couple stitches, and he’s as good as new.”

Otterman hesitated. “So...he doesn’t talk?”

Matryoshka’s expression turned pained. “Not very often,” she admitted, “He’s been selectively mute ever since Alexei’s death. We were both extremely close with Alexei, and it’s been ...a difficult few years for us.”

“Do I need to worry about him attacking my team?” Crackle demanded, narrowing his eyes.

Matryoshka immediately shook her head. “No, of course not! Dmitry never attacks unless he feels threatened. He generally tries to avoid people when he can.”

“Good,” Crackle replied, “As long as-”

“CRACKLE, WE NEED YOU OUT HERE!” Roosevelt bellowed from outside.

Crackle jumped to his feet and rushed for the door without hesitation. Throwing open the door, he stepped onto the deck and was closely followed by the others. Looking down onto the front lawn, they were met with the sight of Plague Doctor and Paper Star doing their best to kill each other. Paper Star was throwing stars as fast as she could while Plague Doctor swung his scythe and tried to overtake her.

“Bloody hell,” Crackle snarled, starting down the stairs.

Plague Doctor dodged a star thrown at his face, and charged for Paper Star, scythe fully extended. He swung out at her viciously, but she nimbly jumped back and retaliated with another star. Plague Doctor was fast, and he spun the scythe and cut the star in half, the blade just barely missing her throat. 

Paper Star took to running to put a bit of distance between them, and The Plague Doctor pursued, dodging and slashing his way through the stars she threw.

Matryoshka and the others simply stood watching in complete shock.

“DMITRY!” Matryoshka shouted angrily, “Knock it off!”

Plague Doctor ignored her and kept closing in on Paper Star, not wanting to give her the advantage. Ducking underneath a swing of the scythe, Paper Star lashed out with a foot and kicked Plague Doctor solidly in the stomach, knocking him back. Leaping backwards before he could swing again, she once again took to running, knowing he was physically stronger than her.

“Paper Star!” Crackle yelled out as he crossed the lawn, “STOP IT **NOW** ! The Void are off limits until I give the order! Stop this **now**!”

Paper Star didn’t so much as spare him a glance as she changed her strategy. Kicking off the side of the house, she flipped over Plague Doctor just as he swung out the scythe. For just a moment he was unguarded and she released a star aimed directly for the back of his neck.Plague Doctor yanked his arm back and the star stabbed deeply into his elbow instead. Showing no outward reaction to the pain, he swung the scythe around and it caught the back of her shirt, slicing a hole through the fabric.

“Should we be doing something?” Theodore asked in concern, “That looks...dangerous to get in the middle of.”

Everyone stared at the wildly swinging scythe and the stars flying in every direction, and no one moved.

“Well, we have to do **something**!” Crackle snapped, “They’re going to kill each other!”

Matryoshka was furious, and she turned to Crackle. “I’ll go for my brother and you go for the girl.”

Crackle nodded and they were about to rush in when Otterman pushed past them and angrily strode towards the fight.

“**THAT’S ENOUGH!**” he snarled out with so much venom that it took the entire team by surprise.

Plague Doctor hesitated, his scythe still held to Paper Star’s throat and he glanced over as Otterman stormed up to them.

“ENOUGH!” Otterman yelled again, “Get away from Paper Star right **now**!”

Plague Doctor simply stared at him and Otterman gave him a hard shove in the chest, knocking him back a few steps. He then gave a shove to Paper Star as well, glaring at her angrily.

“Both of you are absolutely ridiculous! You both couldn’t even give me an **hour** before you started trying to kill each other?! Do both of you think so lowly of me that you never once considered how this would affect me?!”

Paper Star glared at Plague Doctor but then her gaze went to Otterman who was looking so stressed out that it looked like he was going to have an aneurism. Otterman had been nothing but kind and patient with her during these last couple months, and she averted her gaze guiltily. She’d allowed her anger to overtake her and she hadn’t even once considered him.

Otterman then rounded on Plague Doctor and gave him another shove.

“I only just met you, but this was one **hell** of a bad impression!” Otterman yelled at him, “First you try to kill me, then you nearly get in a fight in the kitchen, and then you try to kill my boyfriend, and now you try to kill Paper Star? Do you even care what I think about this?!”

Plague Doctor slowly lowered his scythe.

Otterman gave him one last shove in the chest, and then turned away from him. “I’m too mad to even deal with this right now! Both of you are to **leave** ! I will call you tomorrow, but I **swear** if you don’t leave right this second, I’m going to shove that scythe where it will never be found!”

Matryoshka approached and she didn’t hesitate as she gave Plague Doctor a hard swat across the back of the head.

“Get in the car, Dmitry!” she ordered, “You’ve caused enough trouble for one day!”

Plague Doctor tilted his head slightly as he glanced at Otterman, and then his shoulders slumped in defeat and he turned away. He yanked the star out of his elbow, and then pressed a button on his scythe. The shaft retracted with a click, the blades folded in and then he hooked it on his belt, clearly done with fighting. Plague Doctor passed by the rest of Team Crackle who stepped aside to let him pass.

“This will not happen again,” Matryoshka promised Otterman, “Dmitry and I will be having a **long** discussion about this tonight. I hope that you won’t hold this against him. He’s very reactive to people he thinks are a threat.”

Matryoshka glanced at Paper Star who narrowed her eyes at her.

“You look good with short hair,” Matryoshka commented, turning away, “Please do not attack my brother again.”

“Leave,” Otterman ordered.

“I’m going,” Matryoshka assured him, “Please call me tomorrow.”

“I said I would,” Otterman snapped, “I really can’t see this ever working, but I will listen to what you have to say.”

Matryoshka nodded and then approached him. To Otterman’s immense discomfort, she hugged him and then planted a kiss on his forehead. “Goodbye, Sven, I’m sorry things turned out this way. I will continue to work hard to make things better between us. We’re family, and I want to know you.”

Otterman said nothing at all and so she turned and headed for the car. Team Crackle watched her get in the car and a few moments later, she pulled out of the driveway and drove off. Otterman clenched his hands into fists and his shoulders were tense as he glared at the retreating car.

“Sven, are you alright?” Neal asked in concern.

Otterman let out a wordless scream of pure rage and kicked over the trashcan as hard as he could. The trashcan crashed loudly and rolled down the driveway and seconds later, Karen’s porch light flicked on. The door then opened and Karen stepped out, arms crossed and scowl in place.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?!” she called over, “My children are in **bed**!”

“Go fuck yourself, Karen!” Otterman snarled viciously.

Otterman had always been nothing but polite to Karen and this took her completely off-guard. He’d been the only one out of Team Crackle to make an effort to be a good neighbour, and as she stared at him, her brow furrowed. Otterman glared in her direction, and then turned and stormed back into the house without another word. Neal glanced over at Karen and waved at her.

“Sorry!” he called over, “Sven has had a **really** bad day…He didn’t mean that.”

“Yes, I did!” Otterman snapped from inside the house.

Karen stared for a moment and then turned around and went back in her house without comment. Crackle glared over at Paper Star who simply crossed her arms and then headed around back towards her tent without so much as a word in her defense. Crackle let out a sigh and then started up the stairs to check on Otterman. The others clearly had no idea what to do and simply followed after him into the house. They found Otterman sitting at the kitchen table, drinking directly from a carton of chocolate milk.

“I don’t know whose this is, but it’s mine now,” he said firmly.

“I think that’s Roose’s,” Dash stated, entering the kitchen in a very cheery mood. “Do we have any bread? I want to make some toast before I go to bed. Steve and the little ones are finally asleep and so I’m going to leave them alone for the night. You guys were so noisy out here, I didn’t think I’d ever settle them down.”

Everyone simply stared at him.

Dash stopped walking and gave them a confused look. “What? Did something happen?”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Player’s Basement**

**Niagara Falls, Canada**

**October**

Player typed quickly, watching the screen closely as he waited. The moment he saw the connection, he clicked on it and connected his own com to it.

“Siren, can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Siren confirmed, “It seems to be a good connection.”

“Where have you been?” Player demanded, “It’s been a week since you said you were going to link with our coms!”

“I needed to get the parts and build this com from scratch,” Siren snapped, “Sorry that my engineering skills aren’t up to your level!”

“Geez, calm down,” Player responded, “You could have just said you had to build one!”

Siren sighed, but didn’t apologize.

“What’s going on at the lab right now?” Player asked, “Is Vess planning anything?”

“Vess is **always** planning something,” Siren replied, “I’m assuming you read through the file I sent you?”

“Yeah, and it was seriously messed up!” Player exclaimed, “I can’t believe V.I.L.E thinks they can get away with this! Carmen is already making plans of how we can shut the lab down.”

“Roundabout was luckily able to stop the first shipment of children, but Vess is already arranging a new shipment to arrive in December. He has to wait for the Russian government to become complacent again before he can chance trying again.”

“I still can’t believe Roundabout is helping us!”

“Just because he’s a criminal doesn’t mean he has no standards,” Siren responded, “This entire lab is next level evil, and Vess is practically a mad scientist from a cartoon. The atrocities he’s committed over the years are beyond what most people can overlook. Roundabout is certainly not on either of our sides, he simply doesn’t agree with what Vess is doing.”

“I tried looking at the lab by satellite, but the entire area is blacked out,” Player commented, “An area about fifteen kilometers square was blacked out and I couldn’t override it. The satellite itself must be programmed to not record that area. Is the lab really that massive?”

“No, there’s a town nearby which is also V.I.L.E owned. Almost everyone who works in the lab lives there with their families. This is not just a mission you can show up to and wing, otherwise your entire team will be annihilated. The lab has survived dozens of raids against several of V.I.L.E’s enemies, and all have failed. It’s pretty much a fortress.”

“I don’t suppose you have any pictures you could send us, do you?”

“No, and there’s no way for me to do that,” Siren replied, “The most I can do is draw up a blueprint from memory. I’ll have to be careful doing that however, since there’s no way I could ever explain that to Vess.”

Player frowned, knowing that was definitely not ideal. “Does Vess suspect anything?”

“I don’t think so,” Siren said, “He’s always a little suspicious of me, but I don’t think it’s any more than normal. He’s just incredibly paranoid.”

“Speaking of Vess…” Player began, “I was just wondering if you could confirm something for me?”

“What do you want to know?”

“Is it true Vess and Michael Jr. are… dating?”

Siren made a sound of disgust. “Yeah, that’s true,” he confirmed, “Honestly I don’t know what Vess sees in him. He might as well date an amoeba. I have never met such a stupid human being in my life. The other day I witnessed him stab a knife through a child safety pill bottle because he couldn’t figure out how to open it.”

“So, just to be clear, V.I.L.E and Volkov are mortal enemies, correct?”

“Correct.”

“Then I’m assuming Vess doesn’t know MJ is a Volkov?” Player guessed.

“No, he knows,” Siren answered, “All of the head faculty know as well.”

“...and they’re fine with that?”

“Not really, everyone hates MJ, but he’s under Vess’ protection, and they normally give Vess whatever he wants to keep him happy.”

“Why is Vess fine with having a Volkov that close to him?” Player asked in surprise.

“Probably because Vess was originally with Volkov as well,” Siren replied.

“WHAT?!” 

“Vess was one of the Volkov doctors ten years ago before V.I.L.E declared war on Volkov. Maxim Volkov gifted Vess to V.I.L.E as an act of goodwill, and V.I.L.E proceeded to stab Maxim in the back, but they kept Vess. Vess honestly didn’t care who he worked for as long as he could continue helping in the Volkov research.”

“Why would V.I.L.E ever trust him?”

“I don’t think they really did, not at first anyway. He was assigned to be the academy doctor when they first obtained him, and was later reassigned to the lab to keep me in check. Vess was just an assistant to the other doctors at that time, and therefore unimportant and disposable. V.I.L.E forced us to work together and Vess resented it. He was ambitious, but too young for anyone to take him seriously. After the lab was destroyed and rebuilt, Vess was the only doctor left with any Volkov experience. He became head doctor, and I was still forced to work with him.”

“I don’t understand why an allegedly genius doctor with Vess’ position would choose to date someone like Michael Jr.!”

“That is indeed a mystery,” Siren acknowledged, “MJ was such a pathetic little nuisance when he was trying to get Vess’ attention after they first met. He did so many crazy stunts in an attempt to prove himself. He even went so far as to murder some French Interpol agent that had been giving Vess a hard time. He snuck away without telling anyone to Poitiers to kill a husband and wife that kept shutting down several of Vess’ operations. He broke into their house, but the husband wasn’t home. MJ brutally murdered that woman and took pictures so he could show Vess what he had done.”

Player let out a gasp of horror. “What was the woman’s name?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

“Yu Yan Devineaux, why?”

“Siren, you’re going to be late for work,” a voice suddenly said from behind Siren.

“I have to go,” Siren told Player, “If you need to reach me, send a notification to my laptop stating that my farmville strawberries need to be watered. If it’s an emergency, make the notification say the strawberries need to be harvested and I’ll contact you as soon as I can.”

“Siren, Vess is going to scold you if you’re late,” the voice warned.

“Who is that?” Player demanded, “Can he be trusted?!”

“That’s just Kevin, my personal bodyguard,” Siren responded, “He’s fine.”

“I have more questions I need to ask!”

“Unless it’s a life or death situation, I need to go,” Siren answered, “I’ll send you the blueprints when they’re finished.”

Siren’s call dropped and Player sat staring at his computer, feeling absolutely horrified. How was he going to tell Chase any of this?!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Team Red Base**

**San Diego, California**

**October**

“We should be home around one, I think,” Zack said, slipping on his jacket, “I think these concerts go on for a pretty long time and we’ll probably grab burgers afterwards.”

“I don’t feel comfortable with this,” Shadowsan stated, crossing his arms, “V.I.L.E is still after Mime Bomb, and Team Crackle might be lurking anywhere.”

“I really doubt V.I.L.E are going to be at a metal concert,” Carmen pointed out, “We can’t keep Mime Bomb inside the base forever.”

“Yeah, we’ll be fine!” Zack insisted, “Mime Bomb even went out shopping for clothes so he’d blend in with the crowd. He watched a bunch of concerts so he could match the aesthetic, and no one will notice him.”

“And what about you, bro?” Ivy demanded, “You’re dressed the same as always!”

Zack swept a hand over his sport’s jersey with a _ tsk _ . “This is an American classic!” he stated, “I can fit in with **any** crowd.”

“Uh huh,” Ivy replied skeptically.

“I did put gel in my hair to match the mood,” Zack pointed out.

Ivy stared at Zack’s spiked hair and rolled her eyes. “Oh yes, you absolute rebel.”

“Is Mime Bomb still getting ready?” Tigress demanded, “He’s been in the bathroom for like two hours now.”

“I have no idea,” Zack acknowledged, “Maybe he’s working on his makeup?”

“He can’t go out dressed as a mime!” Le Chèvre protested, “He’ll be spotted in an instant!”

“It does seem risky,” El Topo agreed, “There aren’t very many mimes in San Diego.”

Carmen frowned worriedly, not wanting to ruin Mime Bomb’s special night, but knowing they had a point. He’d been excited about the concert for the last two weeks, and it felt cruel to ruin it now.

“I’ll talk to him,” she stated, glancing towards the door.

“Maybe we should all go in order to patrol the venue?” Shadowsan suggested, “I don’t like the idea of Zack and Mime Bomb being by themselves.”

“Just let the boys have their fun,” Chase scolded, surprising everyone, “They will have their coms, and I’m sure they’ll be careful.”

“And what if we can’t make it to them in time?” Shadowsan challenged.

“V.I.L.E are not going to be at this concert!” Zack exclaimed, “This was my late birthday present to Mime Bomb and I’m not going to spoil the fun. I won’t let anything happen to him!”

Zack said this with such a fierce determination that Shadowsan simply let out a sigh and then gave him a nod. Zack smiled at him, and then glanced towards the door.

“MIME BOMB!” he bellowed, “WE’RE GOING TO BE LATE!”

They heard the bathroom door click open, and a moment later Mime Bomb entered the room. Everyone stared at him in complete shock, the entire team going speechless at the sight of him. 

Mime Bomb was not dressed like a mime as they were expecting, but rather he looked like something that had stepped out of a heavy metal music video. His white face paint was mixed with smears of streaking black around his eyes, his hair was gelled into a wild style of controlled chaos, and several piercings could be seen in his eyebrows and lower lip. His band t-shirt was in tatters, showing his bare stomach, and he wore a leather jacket covered in metal spikes, buckled straps and several band pins. Ripped back jeans were held up with a belt made of dozens of little metal skulls, and his boots were tall, made of black leather, and covered in countless spikes, studs, and metal buckles. He stood in the doorway proudly smiling at everyone, and Zack grinned over at him.

“Wow, buddy, you really went all out for tonight!”

“Oh, it looks great!” Tigress gushed, “You **almost** don’t look like a dork!”

Mime Bomb stuck out his tongue at her, showing a piercing there as well. Tigress rolled her eyes in amusement and simply shook her head.

“I really do like it,” she commented.

“Now I feel a little underdressed…” Zack stated, glancing down at himself, “Do I look okay?”

Mime Bomb gave him a thumb’s up, and everyone saw the black gloves with spikes on the knuckles he was wearing.

“Did you get all those piercings just to go to **one** concert?!” Shadowsan demanded in disapproval.

Mime Bomb removed one of the piercings and held it out, showing that it was actually magnetic and not a real stud.

“Oooo, I want one of those!” Zack exclaimed, “Do you have any more?”

Mime Bomb handed over the one in his hand, and Zack immediately put it on one of his ears.

“There! Now I match!” Zack announced with a laugh.

Ivy let out an amused chuckle and approached to clap Mime Bomb hard on the back. “Glad to see the performer in you coming out!” she teased, “Don’t be running off and joining any bands!”

Carmen smiled at the interaction and it did her heart good to see Mime Bomb so happy. He’d had a hard life so far, and these moments of relaxed happiness were rare.

“Hmm,” Chase said disapprovingly, “You look like a criminal…”

“We’re **all** criminals, Devineaux,” Le Chèvre pointed out, “We’re just a better **sort** of criminal than V.I.L.E.”

Chase made an unhappy sound in the back of his throat, but he couldn’t really argue that. Julia rolled her eyes in amusement at him, and she offered a smile at Mime Bomb.

“Have fun at your concert,” she told him.

“Don’t accept any food or drinks people try to offer you!” Shadowsan cautioned worriedly.

Mime Bomb crossed his arms and raised a brow, clearly insulted at that little piece of advice.

“Relax, Shadowsan,” Zack scolded, “We’re not going to be taking drugs or getting into vans with strangers. We’re just going to have some fun, and then we’ll be back later tonight.”

Mime Bomb suddenly looked worried about something and signed at Zack. 

“I got the tickets right here,” Zack assured him, pulling them out of his front pocket, “I’m not going to lose them!”

“Bring me back something cool!” Ivy ordered, “I take a size medium in men’s!”

“Size XXXXL, got it,” Zack replied, turning towards the door.

Ivy immediately smacked him and Zack yelped and then began laughing. Ivy rolled her eyes at him, but didn’t say anything else.

“Bye guys!” Carmen called after them as they left.

Once they were gone, Shadowsan shot a worried look towards the door. Over the past year he’d gotten incredibly attached to all of his teammates, but the redheads were all special to him. Carmen was his first ‘child’, and then came Zack and Ivy, and then finally Mime Bomb. They were all young, and impulsive, and Shadowsan had watched them all grow emotionally and learn from their mistakes, and he was honestly proud of them all. It didn’t stop him from still being worried though.

“They’ll be fine,” Carmen assured him, “They have their ear-coms, and their phones. Nothing will happen to them. It’s nighttime, it’s dark, and there will be a massive crowd for them to hide in.”

Shadowsan said nothing and gave another glance to the door.

“Um...hey guys?” came Player’s voice over the com, “We need to have a team meeting.”

“Zack and Mime Bomb just left, what’s up?” Carmen demanded.

“I’ve been speaking with Siren, and he just told me something **big**!”

“Is it Team Crackle?” Carmen demanded, instantly all business, “Have V.I.L.E found us?”

“No, no, nothing like that…” Player said, his tone going hesitant.

“Then what is it?” Carmen asked.

“Chase?” Player asked.

“I’m here,” Chase confirmed.

“I don’t want to blindside you with this, so could you please take a seat?”

Chase exchanged a confused look with the others, and then obediently took a seat on the couch. “Alright, I’m sitting,” he responded, “What do you need to tell me?”

“Siren was able to tell me about...Yu Yan’s death.”

Chase was instantly back to his feet. “What did he tell you?!” he demanded, “Does he know who did it?”

Player hesitated. “Yes, he knew everything about it…”

“**WHO!** ” Chase yelled out, his tone instantly murderous, “ **Who** was responsible?”

“It was Michael Finnegan Jr. who murdered Yu Yan,” Player responded gently.

Everyone gasped and Chase let out a bellow of rage. Michael Jr. had been a plague to their team since they met, and it was clear he was way worse than any of them could’ve ever suspected.

“I’ll kill him!” Chase vowed, “I will rip that monster limb from limb!”

“Player, are you sure?” Shadowsan demanded.

“Yeah, Siren was telling me about how MJ was trying to impress Vess by killing his enemies for him. Chase and Yu Yan had been giving Vess a hard time, and so Michael went to Poitiers to kill them both. When he broke into the house, he only found Yu Yan and so he killed her and left.”

“And what of my daughter?” Chase demanded, “He killed her, didn’t he?!”

“I-I don’t know,” Player admitted, “While Siren was explaining things to me, he suddenly had to sign off. I didn’t get the chance to ask him many questions about it.”

“**CALL HIM BACK!** ” Chase ordered, “ **CALL HIM NOW!**”

“I can’t, he’s in the lab with Vess right now!”

“**I DON’T CARE! CALL HIM!**”

“Chase,” Carmen said gently, “We can’t put Siren’s life at risk. He’ll contact us once it’s safe for him to do so. He’s going to be a massive help in taking down the lab, and we have to be careful.”

Chase let out a wordless yell, and then clutched his head in stress. “I need to know…I just need to know for sure...”

Julia wrapped an arm around him and he sagged into her hold. “I’m sorry, Chase,” she whispered, “We’ll find out soon. We just need to be a little patient, and then you’ll be able to ask Siren yourself.”

“What if he’s lying?” Le Chèvre demanded, “We know nothing about Siren, and I don’t trust him!”

“He had no idea about Chase being on our team,” Player responded, “It came up when we were discussing something else, and then I asked for details. I really think he’s telling the truth. What reason would he have to lie about something like this?”

“Maybe it’s just to mess with our heads!” Le Chèvre challenged.

El Topo sighed and gave his partner an exasperated look. Le Chèvre caught his eye and then let out a ‘_ harrumph _’ and looked away.

“I’ll send Siren a message asking him to contact us when he’s free,” Player promised.

Chase slowly sank down onto the couch and felt an angry determination consume him. Team Red would never allow him to murder someone, and so he simply wouldn’t tell them his intentions. When they brought Vess and MJ to justice, he was going to put a bullet in the boy’s head. Chase wanted to watch the life leave MJ’s eyes, and he wanted the satisfaction of knowing he had avenged his family. Michael Jr.’s days were numbered.

  
  


**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**(One month later)**

**Vess’ Laboratory**

**Northern Siberia, Russia**

**November**

Siren raised a hand to his head and rubbed at his throbbing temple. He’d stayed up all night again working on the incredibly detailed blueprints as well as monitoring V.I.L.E’s files. He knew every single one of V.I.L.E’s plans, and he didn’t want anything slipping by him. Most of their plans weren’t anything out of the ordinary and so for the most part he ignored anything that were simple thefts.

Going weeks without sleeping more than an hour or two here and there was starting to take its toll on his body. Siren’s entire body ached and his mind was starting to get confused. He sloughed his way through his lab work every day, and he felt constantly sick and exhausted. Much to Terry’s disapproval, Siren had taken up smoking, the nicotine helping to calm his nerves and keep him focused.

He’d endured a lecture from Vess about how stupid it was to take up smoking, but the other man hadn’t made any move to stop him. As long as Siren smoked outside of the lab, he didn’t care. Siren suspected it was because Vess knew Siren would die long before he ever got cancer.

Siren’s vision was a bit blurred as he stared at his laptop, and he reached up a hand to rub at his eyes. He needed coffee. Lots and lots of coffee would help him stay awake.

Siren blinked a few times and then glanced back at his screen. He stared at the photo of Chase and then his gaze shifted over to the photo of DD. Diana Devineaux was five years old, and the only resemblance she had with her father was her nose. Siren had been sitting on this information for a while now, and he was still unsure of what to do about it.

When he had spoken with Chase, the man had screamed, yelled, and threatened him, and it honestly wasn’t a very good first impression. He didn’t know Chase, and had no idea what kind of man he was. When Chase had asked about Diana, Siren had lied and said he knew nothing about her. Siren would **not** send her to a bad home, and he was skeptical of Chase. Would he direct that temper at Diana? Would he scream at her like she did with him? Someone loud and violent would scare Diana, and Siren had no intentions of allowing that to happen.

Chase had asked him dozens of questions about what he knew of the murder and Siren had told almost everything he knew. He left out the part where Michael had returned to the lab and presented Vess with a baby. It had completely taken Vess off guard, and Michael had proudly stated he’d overheard Vess say he needed children, and so he got him one. Siren’s mind had been incredibly confused during that time, and he didn’t remember any of this until he began researching DD and it jogged the memories. Vess had kept Michael around after that, and DD had been placed in the basement to be experimented on.

Siren told Chase he would look into it to see if he could find out what happened to Diana, and Chase had accepted that answer. Everytime he spoke with Team Red, Chase demanded an update, but Siren always told him he was still looking into it. It made him feel a bit guilty, but he only wanted to protect her. If Chase proved he could provide her a good home, he would tell him, but until then, Siren kept DD a secret. 

When Terry knocked on Siren’s door, Siren let out a miserable groan knowing it was time for another eight hours of gruelling lab work. Terry entered the room, looked him up and down critically, and then let out a sigh.

“You can’t keep doing this!” Terry scolded, “You look sick, and you need to **sleep**!”

“I’m fine,” Siren snapped, “I **need** to do this or Vess will win. I can’t lower my guard for even a moment. I just need coffee.”

“You’ve been living on nothing but coffee, cigarettes and sugar since October!” Terry scolded, “You’re going to get seriously ill if you keep this up!”

Siren closed his laptop and rubbed at his eyes again. “Look, Kevin, this really doesn’t concern you. I’ll take a nap on my lunch break today.”

“An hour of sleep is **not** enough!”

“I’ve seen Vess do it for months at a time,” Siren responded, giving a long stretch, “It’s doable with enough caffeine.”

Terry let out a deep sigh of exasperation, and he simply shook his head as Siren gathered his things together.

“Vess is not exactly the best frame of reference for healthy habits,” Terry pointed out.

Siren didn’t bother to respond as the room started to spin. Clutching the bedpost for a moment, Siren stood still until the room stopped moving and then he rubbed his head.

“I don’t remember, what does Vess have me doing today?”

Terry frowned in concern. Siren’s memory was getting worse and worse the more exhausted he became, and he could barely remember anything he was told. He was also having more confused moments than ever before, and Terry suspected it was from the stress.

“He’s getting you to study his last vaccine trials,” Terry informed him, “The one that left almost all of his patients with boils.”

“Joy,” Siren responded, switching his current shirt for a new one.

“When’s the last time you showered?” Terry demanded, “I’ve seen you simply switch your shirt every day for the last week.”

Siren paused and then shrugged.

Terry sighed. “Take tonight off and get a good night’s sleep,” he ordered, “You’ll be no good to Carmen Sandiego if you die from exhaustion.”

“I have to check on what the head faculty are planning tonight,” Siren responded, “I think they’re planning on sending Team Crackle out on another mission.”

“You need a night off!” Terry insisted.

Siren said nothing and simply headed for the door without a word. The hallway seemed to be swaying back and forth like the rocking of a ship and Siren felt his stomach turn as he stumbled. He caught himself against the wall and closed his eyes for a moment. Terry laid a hand on his back, and Siren opened his eyes and looked up at him with a frown. 

“Are you alright?” Terry asked in concern.

“I’m fine,” Siren lied, “I just tripped over something.”

Terry glanced around at the clear hallway, and Siren shrugged away from him irritably. He continued walking down the hallway feeling worse and worse by the second. Suddenly everything around him was spinning and spinning out of control and he raised a hand to his head and stopped walking. The entire hall seemed to lurch, and Siren felt himself hit the floor hard. He heard Terry call out his name as the world went black and his entire body sagged in pure exhaustion.

“Siren!”

Terry rolled Siren over and quickly checked him over for signs of injury. Siren was breathing deeply and evenly, and he saw he was fast asleep. 

“Siren?”

There was no response.

“Siren, please open your eyes for me.”

Siren remained asleep. Terry shook his head and knew Siren was going to kill himself if he kept this up for much longer. He scooped Siren into his arms and easily lifted him up, feeling how light the other man had become. Terry carried him back to his bedroom and laid him on the bed. There was no way he was going to allow Siren to go to work today, Vess be damned. Removing Siren’s lab coat and his shoes, he tucked the other man in bed, and then turned to leave.

When Terry entered the lab without Siren, Vess glanced up from his computer and frowned, having a feeling he wasn’t going to like what Terry had to say. He set down his mug of coffee, and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. 

“Is there a problem?” he demanded.

“Siren is sick today, and he's going to be taking a day off,” Terry responded.

Vess’ brows knitted together and he became instantly annoyed. “Sick? Sick how?” he demanded.

“He’s just feeling under the weather and needs a day to rest,” Terry answered.

Vess sighed and got up from his desk. “Unless he’s vomiting, I expect him to come to work,” he stated, striding towards the door with purpose.

Terry felt like he should protest, but knew it was pointless since Vess would never listen to someone like him. He followed along behind Vess as he headed for Siren’s room and just as they approached they passed by Michael who was covered in blood.

“Dammit, Michael, did you get in **another** fight?!” Vess snarled, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, but this has got to stop! Go back to our apartment and wait for me there. I’ll take a look at those cuts, and then we’re going to have a little chat.”

Michael grimaced, and wiped the blood from his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “Gangstas just love to fight!” he protested, “I need to practice my fighting skills to stay fit! I won’t let no one disrespect me! I’m the toughest person in this whole damn place!”

Vess pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Michael-” Vess began, his tone completely exasperated, “If you’re going to be causing trouble, I’ll have no choice but to find somewhere else for you to stay. Perhaps it would be best if you stay with your grandparents for a while…”

“What?! No!” Michael cried out in horror, “I want to stay with **you** ! My grandparents still treat me like I’m a kid! The last time I visited them they tried to enforce a fucking **bedtime**!”

“You normally visit them during the Christmas holidays, and if you can’t behave in a respectable manner, I think you should remain there.”

“Numa!” Michael protested.

“Are you going to stop fighting?” Vess demanded, narrowing his eyes.

Michael crossed his arms and averted his gaze.

“Fine, then tell your grandparents you’ll be staying with them for a few months.”

Terry stared at Michael and couldn’t believe the boy **still** wasn’t telling Vess what was going on. It was starting to get ridiculous, and so he let out a sigh and turned to Vess.

“He’s being bullied,” Terry commented, “He’s been hiding it from you.”

Michael sputtered indignantly and then he scowled. “You fucking snitch!”

Vess stared at the various cuts and bruises and remembered how beat up Michael had been for the last few weeks. He’d had no idea the boy was being bullied, and it made him **furious**. Michael wasn’t tall, he wasn’t strong, and pretty much any of the guards could beat him in a fight. He’d assumed Michael had been instigating the fights, but it appeared he was wrong.

Vess felt stupid for not realizing something was wrong. All the clues were there but he hadn’t been paying attention. As Vess thought about it, he then got annoyed over the fact Michael had been hiding it from him.

“We will be discussing this, Michael,” Vess promised, “Go back to our apartment.”

Michael scowled at Terry and shoved him hard in the chest. “I’m gonna get you for this, you asshole!”

Michael then stormed off, and Vess let out another sigh.

“You knew about this?”

“Yes, Sir, I saw Michael being hit by a guard, but he stated he was going to deal with it himself. I assumed he was going to tell you, but clearly he didn’t… It doesn’t seem to be getting any better, so I thought I should bring it to your attention.”

Vess gave a slow nod, knowing that someone was definitely going to be fired that day. Vess opened Siren’s bedroom door and stepped inside, his gaze immediately falling on the man asleep in bed. Approaching, he placed his hands on his hips and glared down at Siren.

“Siren, you were supposed to be to work ten minutes ago,” he scolded, “I want you out of this bed and to the lab within the next minute, do you understand me?”

Siren didn’t so much as twitch. Vess sighed again and then leaned over so he could take a proper look at him. Siren was pale, had dark circles under his eyes, and he certainly looked sick. Vess removed one of his gloves and laid his hand on Siren’s forehead.

“No fever,” he commented.

Vess then took one of Siren’s wrists and felt for his pulse. He silently counted for a moment, but didn’t detect an issue. He pulled his stethoscope out of his lab coat pocket, and then listened to Siren’s breathing and heart carefully. There were no signs of a rash or dehydration, and it appeared everything was normal. 

“There’s clearly nothing too serious, and so he’s not too sick to work,” Vess announced.

“But, Dr. Vess!” Terry protested, “He collapsed halfway to the lab! I had to carry him back to bed!”

Vess rolled his eyes, assuming Siren was just being overdramatic.

Vess ignored Terry and reached over and gave Siren a hard pinch on the neck.

“Get up **now**!” he ordered.

To his complete surprise, Siren didn’t react. He pinched him again and then again, and Siren barely twitched. Siren was notoriously bad at handling pain, and Vess knew at this moment he wasn’t faking.

“He must be incredibly exhausted,” Vess commented with a frown, “Perhaps I’ve been overworking him...”

Vess thought of the heavy workload he’d been giving Siren, and he knew Siren wasn’t used to it. Mental exhaustion and stress could manifest in this way, but Vess didn’t have much experience with mental health. He knew the basics, but he had a feeling Siren had way more wrong with him than he had the desire to deal with. Vess would try lessening the workload by a tiny amount.

“I’ll allow Siren to take a sick day,” Vess announced as if he was doing Siren a great favour, “I’ll be back to check him later this afternoon.”

Terry let out a breath of relief and nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Stay with him until he wakes,” Vess ordered, “Keep an eye on his temperature and his breathing, and contact me immediately if there’s a change.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Vess looked Siren up and down once more and then wrinkled his nose. “And tell him he’s gross and to take a shower.”

“Yes, Sir, I will,” Terry promised.

Vess nodded and then turned towards the door. “I’ll be asking you about this bullying nonsense later to make sure Michael isn’t lying to me. That situation is being immediately dealt with.”

Terry nodded. “I understand.”

Once Vess was gone, Terry pulled over a chair and took a seat next to Siren’s bed. Staring down at the other man, he shook his head in exasperation, and pulled up the blankets to cover him. Siren shifted a bit in his sleep, but didn’t wake. Terry stared at him for a few moments worriedly, knowing that Siren couldn’t continue this way. He was going to kill himself working this hard, and Terry couldn’t let that happen. From this point on, Terry was going to force him to take a few nights off per week. Siren would still be tired, but hopefully he wouldn’t burn himself out again.

Terry shook his head again and sighed, wishing he could do more to help.

“You little shit, don’t you go dying on me.”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Team Crackle Base**

**San Diego, California**

**November**

Otterman awoke with a shriek and flailed out as someone jumped on top of him unexpectedly.

“Wake up!” Neal ordered, “Hurry, come on! Time to get up!”

Otterman stared at Neal who was right in his face and then he reached for his glasses on the bedside table. Once he could see, he glared at Neal who was completely unapologetic.

“Hi, Neal,” Moose Boy greeted sleepily, looking a bit confused from beside Otterman.

“Kia Ora,” Neal responded distractedly.

“What are you doing in our room?” Otterman demanded angrily, “Do I need to buy a doorlock?”

“It’s our birthday today!” Neal announced.

“And how old are you, Neal, six? Get out of my room!”

“Come on and get up! I have a whole day planned!”

Otterman stared at him for a long moment and then glanced over at Moose Boy who simply shrugged.

“We get free pancakes at The Pancake Palace today if we show our I.Ds,” Neal informed him, “Come on and get up! We only have nineteen hours left of our birthday!”

“Nineteen hours?” Otterman repeated, glancing down at his watch. When he saw it was only five am, he sputtered in surprise. “You woke me up at FIVE in the morning?!”

“Sure did,” Neal responded, grinning widely, “Now hurry up!”

Otterman let out a deep sigh and then yawned. “I was going to spend my birthday with Henrik…”

“Nope, we’re birthday twins and so we have to spend the day together!”

Neal had been doing this for the last fifteen years and so Otterman had been expecting it. He knew there was no point in fighting it, so he let out a groan and then shoved Neal off the bed. Neal hit the floor hard, but he was in good spirits and was to his feet in an instant. Otterman simply rolled his eyes.

“I’ll be back after breakfast,” Otterman told Henrik, “Unless you want to come that is…”

“_ Nej _, I’m going back to sleep,” Moose Boy responded, leaning over to give him a kiss, “Happy Birthday, Sven.”

Otterman gave him a smile and then got up out of the bed and made his way towards his dresser to grab some clothes.

“Happy birthday, Neal,” Henrik said, rolling over to go back to sleep, “Have Sven back by supper, I have something planned.”

“Aye, aye, Captain!”

“Is anyone else planning on coming?” Otterman asked Neal.

“No, I tried to get the others to wake up, but no one wanted to go. Dash hit me straight in the face when he saw what time it was.”

“Hmm, tempting,” Otterman said thoughtfully, “Give me fifteen minutes and I’ll be ready.”

“Okay, I’ll go feed the cats while you’re getting ready,” Neal responded, disappearing out the door.

Otterman rolled his eyes and glanced over at Moose Boy who was already back asleep. He wasn’t actually as annoyed as he appeared, and was very used to his birthday being pure chaos. He was just happy his birthday was being acknowledged at all. Until he entered V.I.L.E academy, he’d never had any sort of birthday celebration before. His parents would never allow his aunt anywhere near him during birthdays, and so he used to be pretty miserable. Neal knew this and so the other man always tried to go above and beyond every year.

Every room in the base was now finished, and although the furniture wasn't the best, they had everything they needed. Roosevelt and Crackle had built all the bed frames themselves, and were currently working on shelving for everyone’s rooms. They’d even collected free broken appliances and Crackle had repaired them. No one was sad to see the tents go, and Dash had tossed his in the bonfire before anyone could stop him. He couldn’t even be mad about it because Dash had been so happy to watch it burn that he’d laughed the whole time in pure glee.

Otterman had just written off the tent as a loss, and hoarded the others before anyone else got any ideas. Otterman then sold the rest of the tents online and used the money to buy the base some groceries. 

Their money problems were far from over, and he knew they needed to pull more jobs if they ever had any hope of paying off their debt to The Void. They’d been sent on several small jobs, but they needed another big one soon or they were quickly going to run out of money. Dash had mentioned that he had an idea for a massive job, and as time went on, Otterman began to consider it. Dash’s idea would take weeks to complete and it was risky, but the payoff would be massive. If nothing better came up, Otterman was thinking about speaking to Crackle about pulling off the job.

The base finally felt like home, and they were all quickly adjusting to it. It was nice having their own space within the base and it felt like they had a bit of privacy for the first time in months. Dash’s kittens were now a month old, but he was still unreasonably protective of them. He banned anyone from touching his cats, but everyone just ignored him and stole them when he wasn’t looking. 

Moose Boy had taken a real liking to the little orange one and he was always bringing it into their room to play with. Dash was constantly yelling at everyone for stealing his cats and he’d reclaim them the second he noticed they were missing. Neal loved to tease him this way by moving the kittens to all different rooms everytime the other man was distracted. Although everyone still bickered, their team really did feel at home in the base, and they felt like family.

Otterman had spoken with his aunt frequently over the phone during the last month, and after a lot of deliberation, he had finally agreed to meet her in a public place. Moose Boy, the twins and Crackle had hovered nearby the entire time, but the meeting had gone well. Matryoshka was careful about the topics they discussed, and she answered any of Otterman’s questions. After the first several visits, eventually the rest of Team Crackle trusted Matryoshka enough to allow Otterman to visit her alone. Otterman doubted she meant him any harm, but he still insisted on meeting in a public place.

During their meetings, Matryoshka began telling him all about Volkov and everything about her past. Otterman found out Matryoshka had been disowned a little over twenty years ago because of who she chose to marry. Mikhael Volkov had not approved of her choice in men since he was an enemy of Volkov, and he had made her choose between the family or her lover. She had chosen her lover and had left Russia and hadn’t seen her parents since. She had remained in contact with her brothers in secret and they had maintained an incredibly close relationship. After Alexei had died, Plague Doctor never bothered to return to the Volkov family home. He stayed with her, and together they created The Void. It had been so long since The Plague Doctor had been back to Russia that Matryoshka assumed everyone thought he had died alongside Alexei.

Otterman began meeting his aunt several times a week, but he remained wary and a little bit suspicious. He shot down any and all attempts Matryoshka made of coaxing him to join The Void, and he simply changed the subject anytime she brought it up. She was still the aunt he remembered from his childhood, but the memories now felt tainted. His entire family were terrible villains, and he felt confused over how this made him feel. He knew they were trying their best, and Otterman knew he’d done terrible things himself, but it still left him feeling on edge.

Plague Doctor had mostly kept his distance from Otterman, knowing that he made him uncomfortable, but he was always within earshot. He normally sat on a bench nearby while Otterman and Matryoshka had their conversations. Matryoshka told him about everything her brother had gone through and how it had changed him, and Otterman could understand his hatred towards V.I.L.E. It didn’t excuse what he did however, and he had said as much.

Plague Doctor had accepted the criticism with a nod, and Otterman found himself curious about the other man. Dmitry had been a small child when his sister was disowned, but he had still visited her with Alexei and still spoke to her daily on the phone. The three siblings had been very close, but they’d hidden it from their parents and from Maxim. 

Matryoshka knew Otterman was conflicted about forming any sort of relationship with either of them, and so she offered him a suggestion. She provided him the contact info for her parents, knowing they would be very interested in meeting him. She told him that they were elderly, retired and had been searching for him for years. If he wanted to get to know his family, he could always start with his grandparents until he was comfortable enough to branch out to the rest of the family.

Otterman had accepted the contact information, but he still hadn’t made up his mind about whether or not he was going to reach out. He’d never had a family that wanted him before, but he was afraid it would be a mistake to join a family of murderers and psychopaths. Otterman’s moral compass was skewed from years of working for V.I.L.E, but he knew he probably should have noped his way out of this entire situation. 

Everytime he went to tell Matryoshka that he wasn’t interested in meeting her anymore, he’d look into her loving and excited gaze and the words wouldn’t leave his mouth. He’d seen the pain in her eyes as she described the death of her own child, and he felt despicable for even considering cutting her off. He was worried she was going to hurt him by giving him hope, but he also didn’t want to be the one to cause **her** any pain. Dash accused him of being too nice to be a villain, and Otterman was beginning to wonder if he was right. He didn’t like hurting people, and the guilt of even considering cutting off his aunt ate at him during the night.

The day before his birthday, he received a text from Matryoshka asking him to meet her at the beach, and so Otterman had gone, expecting her to be waiting for him. To his dismay, it was Plague Doctor who was waiting for him, Matryoshka nowhere in sight. Although Plague Doctor was dressed as a civilian, he still sent shivers of fear up Otterman’s spin just looking at him.

Otterman had debated long and hard as he stared at the other man from across the parking lot, and eventually he approached to see what he wanted.

“Where’s Aunt Alexandria?” Otterman immediately demanded once he neared him.

Plague Doctor shrugged and then took a seat on a nearby bench. Otterman hesitated a moment and then took a seat next to him. Plague Doctor eyed him out of the corner of his eye, and then reached into his pocket. Otterman tensed, but when he saw it was an envelope, he relaxed. Plague Doctor held it out towards him, and Otterman cautiously took it. Glancing at the front, he saw his own name written in a very fancy script. Frowning, he ripped open the envelope and pulled out a card. On the front was the picture of a plague doctor standing in a graveyard.

Otterman shot Plague Doctor a bewildered look and opened it. Inside, the words _ ‘Happy Halloween’ _ were crossed out, and instead it said _ ‘Happy Birthday, Sven. Sorry I tried to eviscerate you’ _ in the same fancy handwriting as the envelope. There was something taped to the inside of the card and when Otterman pulled it away, he saw it was a necklace with a wolf pendant. Turning it over, he saw the name _ ‘Volkov’ _ written on it in Russian.

“Is this our family crest?” Otterman asked.

Plague Doctor silently nodded.

Otterman frowned down at the pendant, knowing it looked incredibly old. The detail on the wolf was incredible and he ran a thumb across it, knowing this wasn’t something bought in a store. Plague Doctor had given him something that was clearly valuable and sentimental. Otterman stared at him, but the other man was carefully avoiding eye contact, keeping his gaze on the ocean in front of them.

Otterman couldn’t even begin to understand Plague Doctor, but it was obvious he was trying. He had remembered Otterman’s birthday, and did seem like he wanted to be on friendly terms with him. Otterman stared into Plague Doctor’s blue eyes, and the pain he saw there made him quickly avert his gaze. Otterman unclasped the chain on the necklace, and then fastened it around his neck, the metal feeling cold against his skin.

“Thank you, Dmitry,” Otterman said softly, this being the first time he had called him by name.

Plague Doctor nodded and patted him on the shoulder, but remained as silent as always. Otterman tensed when he was touched, but he wasn’t quite as afraid as he’d been before. Plague Doctor then got to his feet and walked away without so much as a glance back at Otterman.

“Um, okay…” Otterman commented, watching him walk away.

Plague Doctor didn’t go far, and Otterman watched as he approached the nearby food truck. When he returned a few moments later, he held out a taco to Otterman. Otterman stared at him in disbelief, but he still reached out and accepted the offered food. Plague Doctor then resumed his seat, unwrapping his own taco, clearly unconcerned with the odd look his nephew was shooting him.

“Aunt Alexandria is still coming, right?” Otterman demanded.

Plague Doctor gave him a shrug and took a bite of his taco. Otterman let out a sigh and unwrapped his own. It was odd to be eating lunch with the man who had tried to kill him, but everything felt oddly normal and Otterman felt himself beginning to relax. He took a bite of his own taco, and they simply sat in silence, neither feeling the need to say anything.

“Sorry I’m late!” Matryoshka’s voice suddenly called from behind them, “I got stuck in traffic behind some old lady on a mobility scooter. She created a massive traffic jam, and the police had to force her to take her scooter back onto the sidewalk.”

Otterman glanced up at her, and waved, and Matryoshka’s gaze fell on the taco. Her lips thinned in disapproval but she didn’t comment, instead approaching them, gift in hand. She seemed mildly surprised to see them sitting next to each other, and she joined them on Otterman’s other side.

“I know you have plans tomorrow and so I thought I would give you your gift a day early,” she announced holding out the gift.

Matryoshka’s eyes fell on the necklace around Otterman’s neck and she let out a shocked gasp, immediately reaching out towards it. She turned it over carefully in her hand, and then she shot Plague Doctor an uncertain look.

“Dmitry!”

Plague Doctor didn’t look at her.

“Are you **sure**?” she demanded.

Plague Doctor nodded.

“Dmitry…” she said, her tone reflecting an odd emotion Otterman couldn’t understand.

Plague Doctor reached over, patted her on the knee and Matryoshka gave a hesitant nod.

Otterman frowned at the strange interaction and reached down to touch the necklace. “What’s wrong?” he asked, “Is this important?”

“More important than you know…” she said with a grimace, “Take good care of that, Sven.”

Otterman wondered if it was some sort of family heirloom and he didn’t feel right accepting something like that. “Why?” he demanded, “What’s so important about-”

Matryoshka quickly interrupted him by thrusting the present into his hands. Otterman took the giftbag by reflex, and then set his taco aside so he wouldn't get the bag greasy. 

“Happy Birthday!” she told him.

“Are you two trying to bribe me to join The Void?” Otterman demanded suspiciously.

“Of course not!” Matryoshka scolded, “It’s just a birthday present!”

“I’m not accepting it if it’s anything expensive,” Otterman informed her, pulling out the tissue paper, “I don’t accept bribes.”

Inside the bag Otterman found a box. Pulling it out, he stared at it in confusion.

“World of chocolate…” he read out loud.

“There’s three chocolates from every country in the world,” she informed him, “Over 500 pieces altogether from each countries’ best chocolatiers.”

Otterman frowned at the massive box.

“You still love chocolate, don’t you Sven?” she asked him, suddenly worried.

“...yes,” Otterman answered, “...I do…”

Matryoshka looked relieved, but then she gave a sly smile. “Oh, but this was expensive so I doubt you want it, right? You’ll probably refuse to accept it!”

Otterman quickly put the box back in the bag and moved it to his other side away from her. “Er, I think this would be fine for me to keep. Candy isn’t something I would consider a bribe.”

“Are you sure?” Matryoshka teased, “I can always exchange it for a sweater or something?” 

Otterman flushed and averted his eyes. “No, that’s okay...thank you.”

The rest of the visit had gone incredibly well, and Matryoshka had informed him she and Plague Doctor were going to be heading for Ukraine. They had spent two months in San Diego and they couldn’t spend any more time away from The Void. She made him promise to answer her calls and stay in touch, and then she had given him a hug and a kiss on the forehead goodbye. Plague Doctor had simply given him a pat on the back, and then followed his sister back to her car.

Otterman had immediately hidden the expensive chocolates the moment he got home. He’d threatened the rest of the team with a slow and painful death if they touched even a single chocolate, and so far everyone had left them alone.

To Otterman’s complete surprise, Neal really did have an entire day planned for them. They had free breakfast at the Pancake Palace, and then Neal took him on what he called ‘Free Birthday’. Neal said the challenge was to not pay for a single thing all day, and Otterman had immediately accepted, knowing how broke they both were. They snuck into the aquarium, the zoo, the museum, a sci-fi convention, shoplifted a bunch of stuff from the mall, and then ended their afternoon at the movies with stolen concession treats.

When Neal wasn’t actively trying to be annoying, he was fun to hang around, and Otterman actually had a great day. For once in his life, nothing went wrong, and they made it back to the base without any issues at all. When they opened the door to the sight of balloons, Neal let out a laugh and batted one out of his way.

A hand-drawn banner was hung in the common room that said _ ‘Happy Birtday!’ _ and this only caused Neal to laugh louder.

“Henrik?” he guessed, shooting an amused look at Otterman.

Otterman stared at the misspelled banner and shook his head in amusement. “Henrik,” he confirmed.

It seemed Moose Boy had been busy all day and there were balloons and decorations in every single room. 

“Heya, Paper Star!” Neal greeted as they passed her by.

Paper Star was scowling at all the balloons bouncing around the room and she tossed a star at one that bounced off her leg. It popped loudly and a moment later, Crackle popped his head in the room.

“Would you please stop popping all the balloons?” he demanded, “You’re giving Henrik anxiety! He wants everything to be perfect!”

Paper Star rolled her eyes.

Crackle frowned at her and then his gaze fell on Neal and Otterman. “Oh, you’re back! Happy birthday!”

“Thanks! Where is everyone?” Neal asked.

“The twins ran out to get takeout since Henrik burnt supper. Dash is hiding in his room to avoid the mayhem, and Henrik is in the kitchen trying to clean up his mess.”

Otterman frowned. “Henrik was trying to cook? In the fifteen years I’ve known him, I’ve never so much as seen him make **toast** before!”

Crackle grimaced. “And that’s probably the way it should remain…”

“What was he doing?” Otterman asked in confusion.

“I was trying to make you a special birthday supper,” Moose Boy said, poking his head into the room, “...but I burnt it. Happy Birthday again, Sven and Neal!”

Otterman approached Moose Boy, gave him a quick kiss and then peeked into the kitchen. His eyes widened at the carnage he saw, his gaze immediately settling on a scorch mark on the wall. Moose Boy quickly steered him away from the kitchen with an apologetic look.

“Leave that to me, I’ll clean it all up and it will be as good as new!” he promised.

“Henrik, the wall-”

“Go sit down and relax!” Moose Boy coaxed, “Roosevelt and Theodore will be back with the food any minute!”

“But the **wall**!” Otterman protested, knowing it would have to be repainted which would cost them money they didn’t have. “And how are we getting takeout? We’re broke!”

“Relax, I took care of it,” Crackle assured him.

Otterman was instantly suspicious. “How?”

“I repaired Mrs. Gautier’s fence and walkway for her yesterday,” Crackle replied, “I wanted us to have a nice day today.”

Mrs. Gautier was the old lady that lived two houses down from them, and she was always trying to get them to do odd jobs for her. Otterman stared at Crackle in surprise, knowing how hard the other man worked every day. The fact he’d added additional work on top of that just for their birthday made him tear up.

“Graham…”

“No!” Henrik scolded, “This is a happy day! No crying on your birthday!”

Otterman laughed and gave him a nod. Neal threw an arm around his shoulders, grinning ear to ear, and they took a seat on the couch to wait for the food. 

Neal's phone began ringing and he pulled it out of his pocket with a frown. His face lit up when he saw who it was and he immediately answered it.

“Dragon’s sex shop, how may I help you?”

Neal paused as he listened, and then he let out a cackle. “Oh Adam, don’t be such a stick in the mud!” he scolded, “It was a joke!”

Neal rolled his eyes as he listened to the response.

“Yeah, I got the card a few days ago,” Neal confirmed, “Thanks for remembering your poor, neglected baby brother.”

Neal paused. “No, I’m not drunk,” he responded, “Well, not yet anyway…”

Another pause. “No, I’m planning on staying in tonight to celebrate. We ordered takeout, and we’ll probably watch a movie or something.”

While Neal was speaking on the phone, Moose Boy and Crackle returned to the kitchen to finish cleaning up. Otterman glanced at Paper Star who was giving him a curious look.

“Happy Birthday,” she said a little hesitantly.

Otterman knew how Paper Star wasn’t used to normal human interactions, and knew this was difficult for her.

“Thank you,” he answered, “I don’t mind if you want to pop some of those balloons. It looks like Henrik went a bit overboard on them.”

Paper Star looked incredibly pleased and she immediately began tossing stars at all the balloons around her.

“Where did Henrik get these?” Otterman asked worriedly, “He didn’t waste money on them, did he?”

“No, he stole them from the baby shower Karen was planning on hosting for one of her friends. He stole an entire box of them.”

Otterman nodded, glad no one was wasting unnecessary money on things like decorations. A few minutes later, Moose Boy and Crackle came back just as Neal was ending his call.

Neal seemed happy about the call from his brother and he grinned over at Otterman happily.

Crackle and Moose Boy joined them by sitting on one of the other couches and Neal’s gaze travelled towards the hallway.

“I should go drag Dash out here,” Neal announced, “This party needs a little more bitchiness!”

Crackle rolled his eyes and didn’t comment.

“Be right back!” Neal stated, getting up and hurrying towards the bedrooms.

“Want me to put on a movie?” Paper Star demanded, opening the laptop.

“Sure,” Otterman agreed, “Put on whatever you want.”

Paper Star smiled and immediately selected a horror movie. Otterman paled, but he didn’t comment, simply shooting Moose Boy an imploring gaze. Moose Boy immediately obeyed the silent request and switched couches so he was sitting next to him. 

It was about halfway through the movie when the twins finally returned carrying massive stacks of takeout containers.

“Happy birthday!” they both chorused at the same time.

“Where’s Neal and Dash?” Theodore asked, glancing around, “They didn’t go out anywhere, did they?”

“Neal’s been gone for over an hour,” Otterman pointed out, “Maybe Dash finally killed him?”

Roosevelt frowned. “Hopefully Neal isn’t annoying Dash too much! Dash has been in a good mood today, and he shouldn’t ruin it! Want me to go get them?”

Crackle gave another roll of the eyes and then glanced towards the hall. “NEAL! DASH! FOOD’S HERE! GET YOUR ARSES OUT HERE OR I’M EATING YOUR FOOD!”

They heard Neal’s laughter from the other room, and a minute or so later Neal and Dash entered the room. Neal was grinning happily while Dash just looked mildly exasperated.

“What did you get?” Neal demanded, plopping down on the couch.

“Italian,” Theodore responded, “It’s the only food that both you and Sven have no complaints about.”

“Can’t argue that,” Neal agreed.

“Just a second!” Moose Boy announced, getting up and rushing from the room.

There was the sound of shattering glass from the kitchen and Otterman sighed but didn’t go investigate. A few moments later, Moose Boy returned carrying a whole armload of things. To Otterman’s surprise, Moose Boy draped a fancy red tablecloth over the end table and set down plates, cloth napkins and two wine glasses. 

“Henrik?” Otterman questioned.

“I wanted us to have dinner together like a real date!” Moose Boy announced proudly.

Otterman stared at the setup and noticed that Moose Boy had attempted to fold the napkins into swans. They looked more like crinkled blobs of fabric, but the thought was there.

“It’s perfect,” Otterman told him happily, “Thank you!”

“Sit back and let me handle everything!” Moose Boy told him, dishing out pasta and garlic bread onto their plates.

When he pulled out an incredibly expensive wine, he instantly had everyone’s attention.

“Where’d you get **that**?” Dash demanded, “That stuff is over three thousand dollars a bottle!”

“Saw it when I was buying beer, and I picked the lock on the display case,” Moose Boy replied, yanking the cork out with a loud _ ‘pop’ _. “My picture is now on their wall.”

Neal laughed. “You sharing with the rest of us?”

“_ Nej _!” Moose Boy said firmly, “This is for Sven!”

Moose Boy poured a bit into their glasses and then smiled at Otterman expectantly.

“Thank you, Henrik,” Otterman said genuinely, “This is great.”

“V.I.L.E hasn’t gotten back to me about assigning us a more profitable mission and so I’ve decided to go ahead with Dash’s plan,” Crackle commented.

“We only just finished our base and now we’re going to be gone for nearly a month…” Theodore commented with a frown.

“If this plan works, our money issues will finally be over,” Dash responded, “We need to set this up carefully which is why it’s going to take so long.”

“When does the shipment reach the United States?” Neal asked.

“It’s set to arrive December 19th, but in order for us to get anywhere near it, we’ll need to infiltrate the business weeks ahead of time. Once we’re in, all we have to do is collect information about the shipment and arrange to intercept it before the armed guards get their hands on it.”

“You have a lot of experience in this type of heist?” Neal asked in a teasing tone.

“Actually, yes,” Dash responded, “I understand how the jewelry industry works since my business carries high end accessories and jewelry to go with my clothing designs. We’ll only get one chance at this before the shipment is split up and secured.”

“We’ll discuss this more tomorrow,” Crackle promised, “Tonight, let’s just relax and celebrate Neal and Sven’s birthdays.”

“Sure thing, wombat,” Neal answered, taking a bite of his pasta.

Moose Boy guarded the bottle of expensive wine as they ate and chatted, and Otterman had to admit it was the best wine he’d ever tasted. They finished the movie as they ate, but Otterman carefully avoided looking at the screen so he wouldn’t lose his appetite. When they had finished off supper as well as the entire store bought cake, Moose Boy presented Otterman with a giftbag.

“Happy Birthday, Sven!”

Otterman reached into the bag and he pulled out a plush otter. He immediately smiled and ran his fingers over the soft fur. Moose Boy watched him eagerly and Otterman then noticed the toy was holding something. Seeing a smaller box in its hands, he frowned and then reached out and opened the lid. The box contained a diamond engagement ring and Otterman felt his breath catch in his throat.

“Sven, will you marry me?” Moose Boy asked, looking somewhat terrified.

Otterman gaped for a moment and then he launched himself at Moose Boy, hugging him as tightly as he could.

“Yes,” he said between sobs, “Yes, yes, yes!”

“Wooo!” Neal yelled out as the rest of the team cheered along.

Moose Boy looked completely relieved and he hugged his fiance back tightly. “I’ve been carrying that ring for the last fourteen years,” he whispered to him, “I wasn’t sure you wanted me as a husband.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Otterman responded, “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Moose Boy took the ring out of the box and slipped it onto Otterman’s finger.

“I know it’s a woman’s ring, but it has been passed down through my family for the last five generations. We can get it altered if you want it to be more manly.”

Otterman stared down at the delicate ring and felt tears overflow. “No, it’s perfect,” he replied, “My life is finally perfect.”

“Congratulations!” Crackle told them, smiling warmly.

The team dissolved into more congratulations and Roosevelt went for a liquor run so they could celebrate. Team Crackle celebrated the entire night, every single person getting completely plastered drunk until finally they stumbled their way to bed at sunrise.

As Otterman and Moose Boy crawled into bed drunk and exhausted, they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

  
  


**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**The next chapter should be posted in 2 weeks. Chapter 34 is the beginning of the Christmas fic re-write. Now that we know all the characters and nothing can be spoiled, the fic has been re-written to include everyone in it. If you've already read the Christmas fic posted back in December, I'd still check out the next few chapters because a lot has been added. The Christmas fic re-write will be the next four chapters since a lot of new stuff happens in it!**

**A huge thank you to the super-talented artists who did artwork for this chapter!**

**Violetfic created four awesome pics this chapter! She created the pics of Metal Mime, Vess/MJ, The engagement ring, and pyromaniac Dash.  
**

**Coulrosaurus coloured and shaded the Vess/MJ pic!** ****

**Punk Rock Tricks drew the cute pic of Neal and Otterman!**

**I drew the shitty picture of Vess sitting at his desk. ^_^**

.

**Credit for the names of Otterman and Moose Boy go to Animedemon01**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**

**Please don't forget to let me know what you think! **


	34. The Northern Star Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone!
> 
> The fic is now in December, and the next 5 chapters are a rewrite of the Christmas fic I posted last year. There are a lot of new things that happen in the fic and so be sure to read it so you don't miss out on anything. 
> 
> An enormous thank you to the very awesome Violetfic and Coulrosaurus for offering plenty of good suggestions, and for being my betas! They both seriously offered SO many suggestions for this fic that they both deserve some recognition! You guys really helped improve this story a lot and you're awesome!
> 
> Please note that Dr. Vess and Michael Jr. both use the F-word extremely frequently in their everyday speech. You have been warned. Dr. Vess was created by Violetfic, and I am using him with her permission.
> 
> If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 34**

**The Northern Star Mission**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**December 22nd**

**Team Crackle Base**

**4am**

Neal was whistling Deck the Halls obnoxiously loud as he worked, but no one seemed to mind. They were sorting and extracting gems out of the jewelry they stole and then tossing the gold and silver into piles to be melted down. Dash was carefully inspecting the gems and disposing of those with serial numbers or traceable markers, keeping the small pile of unmarked gems in a cup in front of him. The mood in the room was pretty light, the team knowing their money problems were finally over with for a while. Otterman had his engagement ring on his Volkov necklace so he wouldn’t get it mixed up with the jewelry they were tearing apart. He’d been happy and much less stressed during the past few weeks, and the rest of the team were glad to see him relaxed for a change.

“So how much are we looking at here?” Crackle asked, glancing over at Otterman.

Otterman looked up from his ledger where he’d been keeping track of everything, and then gave a shrug. 

“You must have **some** idea,” Crackle pressed, “You’re the finance expert! Are we going to be alright?”

Otterman adjusted his glasses and frowned down at his ledger as he made some notes. “Once the metals have been weighed, and the gems evaluated, I’ll have a better idea, but right now I’d say we’re sitting on at least 30 million American Dollars. In order to sell it quickly, we’ll have to take a 1/3 loss which would still leave us with 20 million or so.”

“Nice!” Neal commented.

Otterman nodded his agreement. “After we pay our debt to The Void, we should still have enough to live on for a few months at least. Depending on what we can sell everything for, we might even be set for a few years.”

Crackle let out a deep breath of relief. The Void had been relatively understanding over the whole fiasco in Tokyo, and Crackle suspected it was only because of Otterman that war hadn’t been declared against their team. He had no doubt that The Void would have retaliated against them and they likely wouldn’t have stood a chance.

Crackle was proud of how Otterman had handled the whole situation, and The Void hadn’t given them any trouble since. Otterman was completely unyielding to Matryoshka in her attempts to draw him to The Void, and he refused to even entertain a conversation about a team merger. Crackle hadn’t expected the sudden backbone and stubbornness the other man had shown over the past couple months, and he was honestly proud of him. Otterman chose Team Crackle over his blood family, and he made it clear where his loyalties were.

“V.I.L.E will be calling us shortly for the new assignment and hopefully we’ll be able to pick up a bit of extra loot,” Crackle commented, “I’d really prefer if we had several stashes of funds in case we ever need it.”

“I still don’t understand why I can’t just use some of the money from my business,” Dash complained, glancing over at him, “What’s the point in being rich if I can’t spend any of it? We’re working with V.I.L.E again and so my personal accounts as well as my V.I.L.E accounts are safe to use. I want to get some better furniture and some personal effects.”

“No,” Crackle said firmly, “That’s your escape out of this life. If you ever need to hide or escape V.I.L.E, you can depend on your fashion business and disappear into the civilian world. V.I.L.E doesn’t know you have it, and I won’t chance them finding out. You are not to touch your personal accounts. **Ever**. That goes for all of you. As I’ve explained before, the moment we touch our V.I.L.E accounts, they’ll know where we are and I don’t want V.I.L.E knowing too much about our team. We can’t trust them, and we’re just using them until we don’t need them anymore.”

Dash frowned, wondering if he ever **would** need to disappear someday. Out of everyone on the team, he was the one most set up to simply disappear back into the civilian world without a trace.

“Business in my New York store hasn’t been going that well lately to be honest,” Dash admitted, “Sales have drastically gone down, and there’s no clear cause as of why. After Christmas, I need to investigate my store and see if I can figure out what happened before it bankrupts me.”

Crackle frowned, not liking that idea at all. “You have to be extremely careful. V.I.L.E has spies everywhere, and they might figure out your civilian alias. We’ll have to discuss this and figure out the best course of action.”

Dash nodded, and turned his attention to Moose Boy who was sitting next to the window looking somewhat sad. He’d been sitting there all morning, simply staring outside while appearing forlorn, and Dash knew something was bothering him. No one else seemed to notice, and Dash knew he wasn’t the best person to inquire about this. He’d been pretending he didn’t see him, but it was starting to bother him the longer Moose Boy moped.

“Sven, your moose is sulking,” he commented, turning his gaze back to his work.

Otterman turned around to where Moose Boy was sitting and he shot his partner a worried frown. “What’s the matter, Henrik?” he asked.

Moose Boy let out a deep sigh. “Nothing,” he replied, not once looking away from the window.

Otterman’s brow crinkled in worry, and he set down his ledger getting up from the table as he did so. Moose Boy didn’t turn around as Otterman approached him, but he did reach out an arm to pull his partner in close.

“What’s wrong?” Otterman asked, “Are you sick?”

“_ Nej _, I’m okay.”

“No, I can tell something is bothering you,” Otterman insisted, “What happened? Did you break something again?”

Moose Boy finally tore his eyes away from the window. “It’s nothing, really,” he insisted, “...it’s just…”

“Just…?” Otterman prompted.

“It’s almost Christmas and it hasn’t snowed yet,” Moose Boy said with a sad sigh. “I was really looking forward to it.”

Otterman simply stared at him. “...snow?!”

Moose Boy nodded glumly. “I really hope it ends up being a white Christmas.”

Neal snickered and Otterman shot him a look of death.

“Henrik…” Otterman said hesitantly, “We’re in San Diego, California…”

“Yeah, I know,” Moose Boy answered with a frown.

“It doesn’t snow here.”

Moose Boy looked confused. “Doesn’t snow?”

Otterman shook his head. “It’s too hot for snow.”

“But...but…” Moose Boy trailed off, his face only looking more confused by the moment, “It’s christmas! It **has** to snow for Christmas!”

“Sorry, love, San Diego is going to have a hot and sunny Christmas,” Neal said sympathetically.

“Oh...” Moose Boy responded, his disappointment evident.

“We can still watch Christmas movies and stuff,” Theodore suggested.

“Yeah, and Paper Star said she’s going to try to bake cookies!” Roosevelt exclaimed.

“Oh dear god…” Dash commented, glancing up.

“I make no promises about their edibility,” Paper Star stated, “Baking Christmas cookies is being added to my life book.”

“...and possibly to **our** obituaries,” Neal said with a laugh.

Paper Star didn’t seem bothered by this and she shrugged.

“I’ll try one,” Roosevelt promised heroically.

“R.I.P Roose,” Neal said, patting him on the back.

“Oh shut up,” Paper Star said, rolling her eyes in amusement.

“Everyone is going to help me decorate the base tonight, right?” Neal demanded, “The decorations should have been up December 1st, and we’ve seriously been slacking!”

Dash rolled his eyes. “We just got back last night,” he pointed out.

“And now we have to make up for missed time!” Neal exclaimed, “Are you guys going to help?”

Neal glanced around and was pleased when everyone gave him a nod.

“Perfect! I’ll go bring in the boxes from the van!”

“Wait, **boxes**?” Crackle questioned, “Just how much did you buy?!”

Otterman was alarmed as well. “You better not have spent our food budget on tacky Christmas decorations! Did you put the receipts in the box for me to add to the monthly expenses?”

Neal scoffed. “Yes, Svenny, you’ve trained me well. Not a receipt is missing.”

“You’d better have only used money from the entertainment fund,” Otterman grumbled.

Neal didn’t answer as he was already halfway out the door, and Otterman muttered a few not-so-polite words in Swedish. The sound of a ringing com suddenly filled the air, and Crackle grabbed his com and glanced down at it.

“It’s Countess Cleo,” Crackle announced, “She must have our next assignment.”

“Already?!” Theodore complained, “We just got home last night! They said it would be after Christmas!”

Dash quickly got up from the table and headed for the door without a word. Crackle didn’t comment on it, knowing how much Dash hated interacting with Cleo. He’d stay out of sight until the call ended, and then probably badmouth her a bit to anyone who would listen.

Clearing his throat, Crackle answered the call.

“Good afternoon, Countess Cleo,” he greeted.

Cleo glanced around what she could see of the base, clearly looking for Dash. When she didn’t see him, she turned her attention back to Crackle. 

“We have a time-sensitive mission for your team,” she informed him, “It is incredibly important, and this is why we are trusting you to handle it.”

“We just got back from a personal mission and haven’t had time to rest yet,” Crackle pointed out, “It’s not fair to my team to leave on another mission so soon.”

“We were prepared to let your team rest up until the New Year, but something unexpected came up,” Cleo explained.

“Oh?” Crackle questioned.

“There was the discovery of an artifact this morning in northern Canada that V.I.L.E absolutely **must** obtain. It is one-of-a-kind, and our competitors will be doing everything they can to get their hands on it.”

“Why is this artifact so special?” Crackle asked, instantly suspicious.

“It doesn’t matter,” Cleo replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. “All that matters is that it’s worth an estimated 300 million dollars. Void or Volkov **cannot** be allowed to gain these funds. Our contact up in Northern Canada has delayed the press release for three days, and that should give your team enough time to steal it and get it to V.I.L.E.

Crackle crossed his arms. “I don’t see why it has to be my team who does this,” he commented, “This seems like a job any V.I.L.E duo could do.”

Cleo rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. “No, this might be a difficult mission,” she answered, “The weather is deadly, the artifact is in a remote location, and you might encounter a fight with our competitors. V.I.L.E doesn’t want to take any chances with this.”

Crackle stared at her, trying to detect any hint of deception. Her face was as blank as always, and he couldn’t read her at all. He frowned and then looked around at the rest of his team who were shamelessly eavesdropping.

“One moment,” Crackle told Cleo, pressing a button to mute himself.

“Don’t you **dare**-”

Crackle muted her as well, and then looked up at the others. “What do you think?”

Neal was standing in the doorway with a box of decorations in his arms and he didn’t look very happy. “If this mission takes three days, that will make us miss Christmas,” he pointed out.

“There’s nothing stopping us from celebrating Christmas while on the mission,” Otterman pointed out, “We could use the extra funds. I vote we charge her a premium since it’s the holidays.”

“Is there snow in Canada?” Moose Boy demanded.

“Yes,” Paper Star answered, “I’ve been to the Yukon before.”

“So it would be a white Christmas?” he asked.

“Most likely,” Crackle responded.

“Okay, I vote ‘yes,’” Moose Boy said firmly.

“Two votes yes,” Crackle said, “Are you a yes or no, Neal?”

“I vote ‘no’,” Neal replied, “I want to spend our first Christmas in our base.”

“Paper Star?”

“I’m always ready for a mission,” she stated with a shrug.

“Teddy? Roose?”

“Yes,” Roose said.

“No,” Teddy said.

“Hey, you **are** different after all!” Neal teased, “You wanna spend Christmas here, Teddy?”

“Sure do,” he answered, “This is our home, and Christmas should always be at home.”

“Alright, that’s four ‘yes’ and two ‘no’,” Crackle said, glancing towards the door leading into the living room, “DASH, DO YOU WANT TO GO ON A MISSION OVER CHRISTMAS TO NORTHERN CANADA?”

“HELL NO!” Dash yelled back.

“Alright, that’s four ‘yes’ and three ‘no’. My vote is for ‘yes’ and so that means we’re accepting the mission.”

Neal let out a groan of complaint, and Teddy frowned unhappily, but neither protested, knowing the vote was fair. Crackle turned back to the com and saw Cleo was glaring at him while impatiently tapping her nails on the table in front of her. He unmuted them both and then gave her a nod.

“Due to lack of notice and the fact the mission is over the holidays, we’re going to be charging a premium. We get 500,000 USD even if we fail the mission, and an additional 2,000,000 if we’re successful. V.I.L.E will provide all transportation and accommodations.”

Cleo wrinkled her nose at the high price, but she let out a deep and resigned sigh. “Very well, I **suppose** that is acceptable. I’ll transfer the funds as soon as this call ends.”

“No, we only accept cash,” Crackle responded firmly, “Have it waiting for us before we board the plane.”

Cleo rolled her eyes. “Fine. There will be an operative waiting for you with cash as well as an information packet about the mission.”

“Alright,” Crackle agreed.

“One of V.I.L.E’s planes will arrive at the Toronto Pearson airport within six hours, and your flight has been scheduled for takeoff an hour after that. Do not be late.”

“We’ll be there,” Crackle promised, “When can I expect the mission information?”

“The information packet will be on board the plane, make sure you study it well and then destroy it afterwards. We don’t want anyone knowing what we’re planning.”

“And what of Carmen Sandiego?” Crackle demanded, “She’s been keeping her head down since our last encounter, and I still haven’t managed to locate her base. I need to strike while she’s weak.”

“Ignore the red menace for the time being,” Cleo instructed him, “V.I.L.E’s priority right now is rebuilding the funds that traitor stole from us. We need that artifact!”

Crackle gave a nod. “We’ll be to the airport on time.”

Cleo returned the nod. “We have great hopes for your team, so don’t disappoint us.”

The call ended, and Crackle rolled his eyes. “Alright everyone, pack your bags! We’re going to need warm clothing.”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

“They’re late.”

Flytrap glanced over at her partner, who was leaning against the wheel of the plane with a grouchy expression on his face.

“They’re not late,” she responded as she finished tying her long, blonde hair back into a braid, “We were early.”

“I hate waiting,” Spinkick complained, scratching at his nose impatiently, “I don’t think they’re going to show up.”

Flytrap looked down at her watch and then rolled her eyes. “They still have ten minutes,” she pointed out.

“They’re all just a bunch of traitors and I don’t see why V.I.L.E still wants to work with them. If anything, we should be fighting them!”

“I agree, but it’s not for us to decide.” Flytrap responded, idly twirling her bolas in front of her, “We haven’t had very good luck going against Carmen Sandiego, and we need to be cautious. The head faculty will only tolerate so many failures. Just be careful.”

“I **hate** careful!” Spinkick snapped, turning and giving a powerful kick to the plane.

The plane rocked a bit and they both stared at the dent in the metal.

“...that was there.” Spinkick quickly commented.

Flytrap flashed him a smile of amusement, and Spinkick simply looked sulky, running a hand through his short and spiky black hair irritably.

“I’m going to work off some energy,” he informed her, stalking a few paces away, “I’ll be all warmed up for when we fight the traitors.”

“We’re not supposed to fight them,” Flytrap pointed out.

Flytrap watched him as he began several combat techniques and he didn’t bother answering her. Jumping easily into a kick, he kicked and spun with practiced ease, fighting a foe only he could see. Spinkick always gave his training everything he had, and no matter how difficult things were, he never backed down. He was always fearless, and it was this quality that made Flytrap become his friend during training. She had watched him fight a fully trained operative and win through sheer refusal to quit. Bloodied and bruised he had managed to take them down, and he proved his worth to the head faculty.

Flytrap had been a bit of a class clown during training, but even she could see that he would make a powerful ally. She never expected them to become actual friends, and after graduation they had remained as partners.

Flytrap watched as Spinkick screamed as he lashed out viciously, and slowly a sly smirk made its way to her face. 

Spinkick was picturing Carmen Sandiego’s face as he kicked over and over, and even when he began getting out of breath, he continued to fight, imaging her face being pummelled until it was unrecognizable. Suddenly his legs were bound together and he crashed face down onto the tarmac.

“W-what?” he sputtered in surprise, glancing down at his ankles. 

When he saw a very familiar set of bolas binding him, he let out a huff of frustration and shot Flytrap a glare.

“Hey!” he protested.

Flytrap smiled at him innocently. “What’s the matter? You’re the one who spun right into my trap!”

“Oh, haha,” Spinkick responded, untying his legs, “I was about to win!”

“Against yourself?”

“No, well...yes, but that’s besides the point!”

Flytrap fell into a fighting stance and swung two bolas above her head. “Why don’t you fight **me** instead?”

Spinkick grinned eagerly and he nodded, launching himself at her without hesitation. They had fought each other countless times, and they knew the other’s moves by heart. It had become a sort of dance between the two, and they easily lost themselves in the fight, neither noticing the van that pulled up beside them.

They dodged and leapt over their partner's attacks, and neither were able to get a hit on the other. The sound of a throat being cleared made them both stumble and the next thing they knew, they both crashed to the ground in a heap of tangled limbs.

Letting out a groan of pain, they looked up and saw Team Crackle watching them with varying expressions of amusement and bewilderment.

“Uhhh, you two just about done whatever that was?” Neal asked, grinning wide.

Spinkick scowled and easily rolled to his feet. “You’re late!” he accused.

“No we’re not,” Otterman responded, glancing down at his watch, “We’re exactly on time.”

“If I say you’re late, then you’re late!” Spinkick snapped, narrowing his eyes and taking a step towards him.

Moose Boy instantly stepped in front of Otterman and glared down at the smaller man. Spinkick was never one to be intimidated by size, and he stepped right up in front of Moose Boy and stood up on his toes so they were face to face. Moose Boy narrowed his eyes, but he didn’t make any move to attack.

“I don’t know either of you,” Crackle stated, looking between the two operatives with a frown, “Are you new?”

“No, we graduated a year ago,” Flytrap responded, placing a hand on Spinkick’s shoulder, hoping he wasn’t going to start anything, “I’m Flytrap and he’s Spinkick.”

“Aww, newbies!” Neal announced, “How cute! Always so bright-eyed and innocent!”

“**Excuse** me?” Spinkick demanded, “We are graduated V.I.L.E operatives, and you will show us the respect we deserve!”

Dash let out a disdainful snort.

Spinkick rounded on him in an instant. “You have something to say, traitor?”

Dash rolled his eyes and then to Spinkick’s shock, he shoved a suitcase into his arms. “The rest of our bags are in the van. Be careful not to damage anything.”

Spinkick sputtered indignantly. “I’m not the porter!”

Dash gave him a slow look up and down and then turned away to board the plane without a word, lugging a cat carrier with him. Spinkick watched him leave, shocked at being treated like that.

“We were told you would have an information packet for us?” Crackle asked, turning to Flytrap.

She blinked in surprise over the fact they were being so easily dismissed by this group. No one in the group looked even the least bit concerned about them and she wasn’t quite sure how to react to that. Without a word, she reached into her vest and pulled out a thick envelope. Crackle accepted it, pulled out the stack of paperwork and flipped through it quickly.

“Very good,” he stated, “Make sure not to drop my suitcase or it might explode.”

Crackle then boarded the plane followed by several other team members. Flytrap and Spinkick simply gaped at them.

“And there’s the little matter of our advance for accepting this mission,” Otterman said, holding out his hand.

Spinkick scowled and pulled a very thick envelope out of his vest without protest, and threw it towards him. It struck Otterman straight in the face and Spinkick blinked in surprise, fully expecting the other man to catch it. 

“Hey!” Moose Boy snapped, “You could have hurt him!”

Spinkick watched as Otterman knelt down to pick up the envelope, and he frowned at him.

“Your reflexes are terrible,” he commented, “Why would V.I.L.E ever see any value in you?”

Otterman said nothing and opened the envelope to check its contents.

“Sven is blind, you spiky-haired little jerk!” Moose Boy snapped, “Don’t throw things at him!”

This took Spinkick completely by surprise and he turned to look at Otterman with wide eyes. “You’re BLIND?!” 

“I can see...just not very well,” Otterman answered, quickly counting the contents of the envelope.

Spinkick exchanged a look with Flytrap who looked equally surprised.

They stared at him awkwardly as he counted, not quite sure what to say to that.

“We good?” Moose Boy demanded as Otterman pocketed the envelope.

“Yes, all money is accounted for,” Otterman replied, turning to follow his partner onto the plane, “We will expect the rest in cash when we return. If any of our luggage is damaged, I **will** be sending the bill to V.I.L.E.”

Spinkick and Flytrap didn’t even have time to respond to that before they were alone on the tarmac. They exchanged another flustered look. A massive pile of luggage could be seen in the back of the van and it was clear none of Team Crackle had any intention of carrying it aboard. It was obvious they fully expected them to do it for them.

“Do-do we really have to do this?” Spinkick whispered to her.

“I...I don’t know,” she responded, equally thrown off, “Would we get in trouble if we don’t? That dork with the glasses said he would tattle to V.I.L.E.”

Spinkick scratched at his head and then let out a groan. “I really hate Team Crackle,” he complained, carrying the suitcase in his arms towards the plane. “There’s no way the head faculty would take our side in this.”

“True…” Flytrap agreed, “If we refused to do this, they’d probably say we were interfering in the mission.”

Spinkick muttered a curse in Filipino and shoved the suitcase into the cargo hold. After much grumbling, swearing and complaining, the enormous pile of luggage was loaded onto the plane. The pilot then closed and secured the door, and just minutes later the plane took off. Team Crackle were now on their way towards Nunavut.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**December 22nd**

**Team Red Base**

**4pm**

Team Red were finally adjusting to being home, and they were just glad Carmen was finally able to walk again. She was still weak, but every day her endurance increased, and it was obvious it wouldn’t be long before she was back to her old self.

Team Red were carefully avoiding the subject of Le Chèvre’s betrayal, and everyone was doing their best to push past the awkwardness. It was obvious that Le Chèvre regretted his actions, and Carmen had forgiven him, but Mime Bomb was a different story. He’d been distant for months now towards Le Chèvre, and although he hadn’t outright said he was holding a grudge, it was obvious that he no longer trusted him. Mime Bomb simply pretended Le Chèvre didn’t exist, and despite the repeated apologies, he refused to acknowledge him.

El Topo did his best to get Mime Bomb to forgive Le Chèvre, but Mime Bomb was incredibly stubborn and refused. The team could completely understand his point of view, and knew the betrayal had hurt him greatly. He had trusted Le Chèvre, and in return the other man had allowed him to be taken. Mime Bomb could have been killed, or he could have been returned to the lab to be tortured, and this was something Mime Bomb couldn’t forgive. Le Chèvre knew the horrors he’d faced in that lab, and how much it had terrified him and yet he’d still handed him over without hesitation. Forgiveness would be a long time coming.

With the upcoming holidays, Zack and Ivy were determined to distract the team from the tense atmosphere and were working hard to decorate the base. The tree, decorations, and cheery music finally started to chip away at the awkwardness, and the team finally began to relax. The whole team gathered every afternoon to watch movies together, and they all seemed to enjoy it.

They were currently in the living room watching ‘A Christmas Carol’ when Player’s voice suddenly came across the base’s speakers.

“Hey guys, can I talk to you a minute?”

“Hi, Player!” Zack greeted warmly, “You wanna watch the movie with us? It just started five minutes ago.”

“Sorry, Zack, but something just came up that I think you should know about.”

Carmen paused the movie and glanced up at the nearest speaker. “What is it? Is it Volkov again? Or maybe V.I.L.E?”

“It’s Team Crackle,” Player replied, “It looks like they’re already leaving on another mission.”

Carmen sighed heavily. “Of course,” she stated, “That’s **all** we need right now…So what are they up to this time?”

“I just intercepted a series of messages sent between Cleo and the rest of the head faculty about a new heist,” Player explained, “They’re being commissioned to steal an incredibly valuable artifact from the Inuit in Northern Canada.”

Carmen frowned. “This doesn’t seem to be V.I.L.E’s usual type of heist. Normally they go for easier thefts from museums or private collections. A mission far up north seems **very** risky for them. The artifact must be **extremely **valuable if they’re sending all of Team Crackle after it.”

“The artifact is one of a kind and priceless. If you choose to take this mission, you’ll likely be spending all of Christmas in Nunavut.” 

"Oh man, oh man!" Zack said excitedly, "We're gonna get to celebrate a white Christmas! This is sooo awesome! We haven’t had a white Christmas since we left Boston!"

Tigress crossed her arms, not impressed. "We'd be going to Northern Canada.That would be the most **lame** Christmas ever."

Zack adamantly shook his head. "No way! We can have a real Christmas tree, and have a real fireplace, and it'll be great! This will be our first Christmas as a family!"

Zack grinned brightly at everyone around him and El Topo immediately returned the smile. 

"I think a snowy Christmas would be very cozy and romantic," he commented, peering at Le Chèvre out of the corner of his eye.

Le Chèvre mirrored Tigress and crossed his arms grumpily. "It will be cold and miserable and I don't even celebrate Christmas, I'm Jewish! Well...**non-practicing** Jewish, but I still don't deal with any of this holiday nonsense."

El Topo gave him a gentle nudge and then a smile. "Even if you don’t celebrate Christmas, it will still be fun. Come on, _ mi amor _, don't you want to spend a few days in front of a cozy fireplace with me? It will be very romantic."

Le Chèvre glanced at El Topo and then sighed, still looking grumpy but also resigned. "I am not wearing a tacky Christmas sweater like last year."

El Topo nodded, and didn't tell him he'd already bought them both complete matching Christmas outfits.

Chase scratched at his chin thoughtfully, not minding cold weather, but not liking the idea of following Team Crackle to such a remote spot. "What if this is a trap?"

Carmen gave him a nod. "It's a possibility,” she admitted, "V.I.L.E very rarely sends operatives on missions during the holidays, and so this is either **very** important or a trap like you said. Either way we still have to check it out."

Julia adjusted her glasses with a frown, thinking this sounded incredibly risky. "Is there no way we can determine if they're truly going after the artifact?"

Player spoke up. "Not really. Now that we know Neal has been planting false information online, we have no way of knowing what's real and what's fake. All I know is that an unknown plane is set to land on Baffin Island, Nunavut in thirteen hours. They are targeting a recently discovered Inuit carving of a star that's one of a kind. The artifact has an estimated auction value of 300 million American dollars and it **does** seem like a very tempting target for V.I.L.E."

“Do you think we should ask Siren about it?” Carmen asked him.

Player hesitated. “I can send him a message, I suppose, but he generally doesn’t like when we reach out first. He has to be careful with Vess so close by.”

“I still don’t trust him!” Le Chèvre snapped, “I think he’s going to set us up for a trap!”

Tigress rolled her eyes. “You’re just mad that he was rude right back to you,” she responded, “It was your fault for assuming he didn’t speak French!”

Le Chèvre crossed his arms sullenly. “You didn’t see what this weirdo looks like! He’s weird over the ear-com, but he’s even worse during a video call!”

“He wasn’t **that** bad,” Carmen commented, “A little...unkempt perhaps…”

“He called you a ginger Barbie,” Le Chèvre pointed out.

“Okay, yeah, he’s rude, but he **does** seem to genuinely want to help us,” Carmen said, “We wouldn’t have known about the Florida heist if it wasn’t for him.”

“During his next video call, call the rest of us over!” Zack instructed, “I wanna see the rude little guy who kicked Player’s digital ass! Mime Bomb and I still haven’t met him yet!”

Player let out a laugh. “Ok, I will, but he normally just does voice chat. I’m sending him a text now to call us. Normally he responds pretty quickly.”

“If he’s really on our side, then he could spy on Dr. Vess for us,” El Topo stated, “We still don’t really know what Vess is planning, and Siren works in the same lab.”

“That is way too risky,” Carmen replied, “Vess is too smart not to notice if Siren suddenly starts acting differently. V.I.L.E would kill him, and I’m not going to be the one responsible for it. We’ll just get him to keep providing us any information he can without making Vess suspicious.”

“Okay, Siren is calling me,” Player informed them.

“Put him through to my com,” Carmen instructed, reaching a hand up to her ear to activate her com.

“Putting him through now, Red.”

“Hello, Siren,” Carmen greeted cheerfully.

“I only have a few minutes,” Siren informed her, “Vess went to grab lunch at the cafeteria, but he usually brings it back here. I have five minutes tops.”

“I was hoping you could confirm some information for me,” Carmen told him, “We just received word that V.I.L.E sent a team on a mission to Northern Canada, and we need to know if this is a trap.”

“Who cares if V.I.L.E steals random shit? I’m kind of working towards the bigger picture here.”

“My team tries to stop all of V.I.L.E’s major thefts, and we fight for what is right,” Carmen explained patiently.

Siren let out a snort. “**Everyone** does what they think is right for themselves,” he replied, “People are inherently selfish and disgusting creatures.”

“...okay…” Carmen said, “But could you please see if you can find out if this is a trap? We’re no good to you dead.”

“I suppose,” Siren replied, “Give me a sec to grab my laptop.”

Carmen could hear Siren shuffling around as he pulled his laptop out of his desk, and then she heard him typing.

“When is the mission?” he demanded.

“They’ve already left,” Carmen replied.

“Alright, I’ll see what I can find out. I’ll hack into the internal V.I.L.E servers and see what information is there.”

“Thank you,” Carmen told him, “I’ll wait on the com with you.”

As Siren began hacking on his computer, he quietly sang ‘Jingle Bells’ to himself, and Carmen raised an eyebrow in amusement. She didn’t comment however, and by the time he had gone through five songs, she heard voices in the background of the call.

“Are you actually working?!” came Vess’ surprised-sounding voice.

“Go to hell, Numa,” Siren shot back, not once pausing in his typing.

Carmen tensed at the sound of Vess, and she listened intently, barely daring to breathe. 

“Don’t forget that Professor Maelstrom asked for that toxicology report from patient 14B today.”

“Working on it now,” Siren lied, “Should be finished in a few minutes.”

“Good,” Vess replied.

Vess didn’t seem to be paying Siren any more attention because she heard footsteps walking away. Siren waited a few seconds and then went back to singing ‘The Holly and the Ivy’ as he typed. 

“Oh, give it a rest, Siren,” Vess complained, “You’ve been singing Christmas songs for an entire **month**!”

Siren paused for a moment and then started singing ‘12 Days of Christmas’ loudly. Vess said several impolite things in Arabic and then went silent. Carmen was shocked that Siren dared be that disrespectful to Vess, and wondered if he was a higher rank than she’d realized. Siren was in the final verse of the song when he suddenly cut off.

“Everything is perfect!” Siren suddenly announced, “No mistakes!”

“It’s not a trap?”

“Yes, yes, everything seems to be fine,” Siren replied.

Carmen knew he couldn’t answer her directly with Vess in the room and she was relieved. “Thank you a lot, Siren!” she told him, “You’re amazing!”

Siren ended the call without replying and Carmen turned to the rest of the team. “Alright everyone, it looks like we’re going to Canada! The mission is real!”

Tigress looked mutinous, her expression downright ugly. “**Ugh** . Making us follow them all the way to a frozen wasteland...I'm going to kick Team Crackle's asses **myself** once we finally catch up to them."

Le Chèvre nodded his agreement. “They’ve been a thorn in our side for long enough. We need to deal with them before they manage to find our base.”

"They already have a headstart on us, and we should leave as soon as possible,” Carmen commented, "Can everyone be ready to leave in half an hour?"

"Ohhh, I gotta grab the presents and some decorations!" Zack said excitedly, "Come on, Mime Bomb, come help me!"

The mime had been quietly listening this entire time, and he seemed a little bit thoughtful as he gave Zack a nod. Zack grinned at him and seized him by the wrist to yank him off the couch and in the direction of their bedroom.

"Okay, you start stuffing presents in bags, and make sure not to forget anyone. I'm going to grab a couple boxes of decorations so we can make our hotel room look festive!"

As Zack left the room to hunt down decorations, Mime Bomb began digging the wrapped gifts out of their closet and checked names as he did so to make sure he didn't forget anyone. Zack's gifts were wrapped into messy lumps with too much tape, and it amused him as he packed them into a dufflebag. He noticed that one gift was missing however, and he double-checked, and then triple-checked to make sure he didn't miss one. Frowning, Mime Bomb shrugged and then went to collect his own gifts he'd hidden underneath his bed.

Mime Bomb's gifts were immaculately wrapped in black and white striped wrapping paper and each was topped with a black bow. He smirked when he saw Zack's was lumpy and had obviously been re-wrapped. Wondering what Zack thought of the 'Guide to Cooking Seafood' book he'd wrapped as a decoy, he smirked and pulled out the real gift he'd tagged as a gift for Shadowsan, and switched the tag. He was just placing the last gift into the bag, when Zack popped his head into the room.

"Can I get your help for a sec? One of the boxes is on a high shelf and I don't want to drop it."

Mime Bomb signed something at him and Zack frowned.

"Really? Who'd I forget?"

Over the last few months, Zack's grasp of sign language had improved dramatically, and now he could understand most of what Mime Bomb signed. Mime Bomb responded and Zack looked worried.

"I forgot Chase?! Are you sure?"

Mime Bomb nodded.

"Oh shoot…" Zack said with a wince, "Good catch, buddy! That would have been awkward on Christmas morning!"

Mime Bomb quickly signed something else and Zack gave a shrug. "I dunno, maybe I'll just grab him a box of chocolates from the airport?"

Mime Bomb shook his head and reminded Zack that Chase was lactose intolerant.

Zack scratched at his head. "Oh...I forgot about that. Ah crap, now what am I gonna do? Chocolate's always such an easy gift! **Everyone** likes chocolate."

Mime Bomb pointed at himself and shook his head.

"Yeah, but you're weird,” Zack responded teasingly, "Okay, so once we get to the airport, you distract everyone and I'll sneak into the giftshop to buy him something before anyone notices I’m gone, okay?"

Mime Bomb nodded, and then got to his feet.

"Great, now just help me with these boxes before we run out of time,” Zack ordered, "Once we get them loaded into the van, no one can argue. We're going to have an awesome Christmas."

Mime Bomb gave him a smile, and then followed Zack out of the room without protest.

"Mime Bomb, you got mail,” Ivy said the second they stepped out of the room, “A **lot** of mail!”

Mime Bomb took the pile of envelopes and packages and shot Zack a questioning look.

“No idea, buddy,” Zack responded, “You didn’t order anything?”

Mime Bomb shook his head.

Frowning suspiciously, he went back into the bedroom and Zack followed at his heels curiously. They took a seat on his bed, and Mime Bomb reached for the first package. He saw it was postmarked from Russia and pointed it out to Zack.

“Oh, is it a Christmas gift from your grandparents?”

Mime Bomb shrugged and began tearing into the package. Inside he found several textbooks on finance and investing, a Russian-English dictionary, as well as a college application that was already filled out in his name.

“I think he’s trying to give you a hint about something,” Zack teased him.

Mime Bomb rolled his eyes, and set the things aside, reaching for the next package. This one was postmarked from Russia as well, but the handwriting was small and neat. When he opened it, he found a black handmade sweater with the picture of a Christmas wolf on the front. The wolf had a collar made of tree lights and had a Santa hat perched on top of its head. Realizing his grandmother had made this just for him, he smiled and ran his fingers over the very soft material.

“Aww, grandma mime made you this?”

Mime Bomb nodded, marvelling at the fact he had grandparents that actually seemed to care about him. As he carefully folded the sweater back up, he wondered if she had also made one for Michael Jr. That monster was part of his family, and he couldn’t put it out of his mind for even a moment. His grandparents had made it clear that they treated them both the same, and so somewhere in Russia, his cousin was probably opening a similar sweater.

Mime Bomb frowned at that thought, and set the sweater aside. His cousin was demented sociopath, but yet he still had a loving family. It turned his stomach, and he hoped he never had to see Michael ever again.

Turning to the last package, he saw it was postmarked from Wales. Mime Bomb was instantly smiling brightly, and he eagerly ripped into the box. Inside he found a picture album and he let out a silent gasp. Opening the cover, he saw Alys had copied all of their family photos and made him his own album. He stared down at the picture of his mother and father and smiled sadly.

“Oh, wow!” Zack exclaimed, “Is this from Alys!”

Mime Bomb nodded.

“You’ll have to call her to let her know that we might be a few days late visiting her because of this latest mission.”

Mime Bomb stared down at the photo album guiltily. Alys had been looking forward to his visit for the last month, and now he had to tell her he’d be late. She’d be spending the holidays alone, and it made him feel terrible. He’d invited her to San Diego, but she’d declined since the holidays were the busiest time of year at her tavern. He was supposed to go to her instead.

Zack saw his expression and rested a gentle hand on his back. “She’ll understand,” he assured him, “She knows what we do for a living. We’ll spend the whole week of New Years with her instead, okay? Ivy can’t wait to see Alys again. They’ve really hit it off, and have already become friends. I **promise** that Alys will understand.”

Mime Bomb gave a slow nod, and then turned his attention to the envelopes that came with the gifts. His grandfather’s Christmas card was polite and businesslike in the way he wished him a merry Christmas, and there was another not-so subtle hint about university. Mime Bomb gave another roll of his eyes and opened his grandmother’s card next. The entire card was in Russian and he stared at the small text she’d written on both sides of the card. He couldn’t read a word of Russian, but his gaze settled on the little heart she’d ended her letter with. He reached for the Russian/English dictionary and knew this would give him something to do on the long flight. 

He ripped open the envelope on the last card and pulled it out. To Zack's surprise, there was a menorah on the front with the words 'Happy Hanukkah.’

When Mime Bomb had told him he wanted to spend the holidays in Wales, Zack had assumed he meant the Christmas holidays. It now seems like Zack should have asked a few more questions at the time. Ivy entered the room without knocking, and when she saw the card, she gave Mime Bomb a surprised look.

"Oh!" she exclaimed in surprised delight. "Are you Jewish?"

Mime Bomb made a so-so motion with his hand and then explained, signing quickly. Zack nodded along with him in understanding, and Ivy elbowed her brother impatiently.

"What's he saying?" she demanded, “I only know how to swear in sign!”

Zack rolled his eyes. “You really need to learn,” he commented.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ivy responded with a scoff, “I’m working on it...slowly.”

"He says that his mother and grandmother were Jewish, but he always celebrated Christmas with his father. It was always a big, stressful mess during December because his grandmother wanted him to choose to only celebrate Hanukkah and his father wanted him to only celebrate Christmas."

Zack's eyes then widened in horror. "I've been forcing you to do all this Christmas stuff with me and I never even thought to ask you! Geez, now I feel like a jerk…I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable."

Mime Bomb adamantly shook his head and then continued signing.

"You **want** to celebrate Christmas with us?" Zack asked a bit uncertainly.

Mime Bomb nodded.

"What about Hanukkah?" Ivy asked.

Mime Bomb's gaze went down to the card, and his expression turned a bit wistful, but then he shook his head as he once again began signing.

"He says he knows he has to choose, and so he chooses Christmas so he can celebrate with all of us as a family," Zack translated with a frown, "He says family is more important to him than a holiday."

"Aw, Mime Bomb," Ivy said in sympathy, "We'd never ask you to do that! You can celebrate any holiday you want!"

Mime Bomb gave another glance down at the card and then placed it back into the envelope. He shook his head again, and then set the card and photo album aside.

He signed that he was going to go get the boxes out of the storage room, and then left the bedroom, clearly done talking about it. Zack and Ivy exchanged a long look with one another, and watched as the bedroom door closed after the mime.

"Okay, so Team Red Hanukkah/Christmas mash-up?" Zack whispered.

Ivy nodded. "Team Red Hanukkah,” she confirmed, "We should make it a surprise for him. I'll start researching, and you keep him busy."

Zack nodded and then hurried after Mime Bomb before the other boy could get suspicious.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The door to the lab crashed open and Vess flinched, not expecting it. Glaring in the direction of Michael, he let out a deep sigh when he saw the boy was smiling brightly. Rolling his eyes, he flipped to a new page of his research and said nothing.

Michael seemed to be in an especially good mood, and he approached Siren’s desk who was busy hacking into V.I.L.E’s servers. He pretended not to notice Michael hovering over his shoulder, knowing the boy wouldn’t recognize what he was doing. Michael was wearing a blue Christmas wolf sweater, and it was incredibly tacky in Siren’s opinion.

“Here!” Michael announced, holding something out towards him, “I got this for you in town.”

Siren glanced up and saw it was a large candy cane. “Don’t like mint,” Siren commented, going back to what he was doing.

“I know,” Michael replied, “It’s cherry.”

Siren paused and again looked up. He stared at the candy cane long and hard with narrowed eyes, and then reached out to accept it.

“Thank you, I’ll shank you with this later,” Siren promised, setting it aside on his desk.

Michael scoffed. “You can’t shank someone with a candy cane!”

“You sure can,” Siren replied.

“No, you can’t!”

“Yes, you can.”

“Stop lying to me!” Michael complained, “You’re always lying to me and making me look dumb!”

“I’m sure you don’t need my help with that,” Siren commented.

“Exactly!” Michael said with a nod, “So knock it off!”

Siren smirked, and simply went back to what he was doing, humming ‘The First Noel’ quietly to himself. He’d been working incredibly hard over the last month and Team Red was starting to formulate a plan on taking the lab down. Roundabout had managed to stop the second shipment of children last week and Vess had been in a horrible mood ever since. The third shipment couldn’t arrive until January, and he’d been ranting about it for days.

Siren knew he just had to last another month and then he’d get to see Vess thrown behind bars for the rest of his life. Carmen had been very firm on the fact no one was to get hurt, and Siren knew that Vess would **not** do well in prison. It would be therapeutic to see Vess beaten down so low. Perhaps Siren would visit him just to rub it in? Team Red stated that they would ensure he’d face no charges, and Siren trusted them. Soon he’d be a free man.

Siren’s thoughts went to DD...no, Diana, and he hoped she survived long enough to escape. She was incredibly sick now and Siren had been visiting her each and every night in an attempt to save her. He’d been trying to reverse the experiments Vess had done on her, but it was obvious there was damage done to her organs. She was pale and weak and she mostly slept now. She never failed to offer him a smile when he visited and it made him feel guilty, and sad for the little girl. He’d gotten attached to her and he felt completely helpless as she got sicker and sicker.

Siren still hadn’t told Chase about her, and he wasn’t sure he should at this point. Diana had liver failure, and there was no guarantee she was going to make it another month. Siren had been sneaking her medications in an attempt to delay her death, knowing that her life could be saved if he got her to a real hospital. If she could get a transplant, she would live.

Siren was snapped out of his thoughts when Michael purposely flicked a few papers off his desk. Siren glared at him, and Michael smirked at him innocently before turning towards Vess.

“Here, Numa, I got you one too!” Michael said, crossing the room.

Vess glanced up when Michael held out the candy cane, and he rolled his eyes. “I’ve told you dozens of times that I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

“It’s just a candycane, Numa, relax.”

Vess sighed and gave him a tired look. “When are you leaving to visit your grandparents?” he asked.

Michael shrugged. “I’m not.”

Vess frowned at him. “What do you mean you’re not? You always spend Christmas with your grandparents.”

“I told them I’m not coming this year,” Michael replied, “I want to spend Christmas with **you**!”

Vess sighed. “Considering I don’t celebrate Christmas, I don’t see why you’d want to stay here.”

Michael waved him off dismissively. “This is our first Christmas together, and we need to make it special. Granny and Gramps already mailed me all my presents, so you can help me open them!”

“Except that I **don’t** celebrate Christmas!” Vess said a bit more firmly.

Michael set the candy cane down on Vess’ desk who immediately glared at it.

“Just because you don’t like Christmas, doesn’t mean you won’t learn to love it with **me**!” Michael said, giving Vess a wide smile, “I’ll make it special for you.”

“It’s not a matter of whether or not I hate it, it’s a matter of the fact I **don’t** celebrate it!”

Michael’s brow furrowed in confusion. “...but **why**?” he demanded, “Christmas is the best holiday of the year!”

Vess let out a long-suffering sigh. “Michael, do you recall me telling you that I’m Muslim? Many, **many** times?”

“Yeah, so? What’s that have to do with you celebrating Christmas?”

Vess did not look impressed.

Siren suddenly let out a loud snort of amusement. “Oh, so you’re Muslim now, are you Numa? Funny, because I don’t remember seeing you fast during Ramadan even **once** since we’ve worked together. In fact, didn’t you just have a BLT for lunch this afternoon?”

Vess flashed Siren an annoyed look. “Fine, I’m **former** Muslim,” he snapped, “I became an atheist when I was fourteen.”

Siren smirked at him in an absolutely infuriating fashion. “Well, if you’re now an atheist, then you should have no problem taking part in the holidays!”

“Yeah!” Michael agreed, crossing his arms.

“I’m also not a **Christian** , and I’ve said it over and over that I **don't **celebrate Christmas!”

“Don’t listen to him, MJ, he’s just being a scrooge and making excuses!” Siren commented, “He hates all religions equally. You’ll just have to show him the Christmas spirit.”

“Shut up, Siren!” Vess snapped.

Michael stood up straight, a determined look entering his eyes. “Yes! I’ll just have to **make** you love Christmas! This will be your **best** Christmas ever!”

“Michael-”

Michael wasn’t listening, and he flounced from the room, looking completely excited. Siren snickered and Vess shot him a glare. Terry had taken the Christmas holidays off and he was stuck with Siren for the next four days, and he was already fed up.

“Get back to work,” he snapped.

“Whatever you say, Mr. Grinch.”

Vess narrowed his eyes. “You’d be a lot more tolerable without a tongue,” he commented.

“Ohhhh, you’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch!” Siren sang loudly, going back to his hacking, “You really are a heel! You’re as cuddly as a cactus, as charming as an eel! Mr. Gri-inch!”

Vess let out a loud sigh. He **really** hated this time of year.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**December 23rd**

**Baffin Island**

**6am**

Crackle stood in silence for a few moments as he typed on his com, ignoring the glares the rest of his team were shooting him. Pausing to breathe some warm air on his fingers, he glanced over at the others, before turning back to his com without a word. 

Dash sighed, and then took a seat on top of the large pet crate, assuming they were in for a wait. Pulling out his 3ds out of his pocket, he powered it on, and then promptly ignored everyone around him. Otterman watched over his shoulder for a few minutes, and then he pulled a novel out of his backpack and opened it. Everyone seemed fine to wait except for Neal, who was pacing back and forth impatiently.

“Graaaaham!” Neal whined, “It’s **freezing**!”

Crackle didn’t answer, his brow furrowing in concentration. Lifting the com into the air, and turning around a few times, he then let out a sigh of resignation. 

“No signal,” he announced, “V.I.L.E must not have a tower in this part of the world.”

“It probably froze,” Neal grumbled.

“At this point, we have to assume we’re going to be out of contact with V.I.L.E for a few days. This means they won’t be able to send us backup if anything happens. We’re on our own.”

“Cheery thought,” Dash commented, not looking up from his 3ds, “Steve and the little ones better not get sick because of this stupid mission.”

“I can’t believe you brought all four cats along with you!” Otterman exclaimed, “What if we need to fight?”

“They’d stand a better chance at defending themselves than **you** would,” Dash responded haughtily.

“That little calico one is certainly a little spitfire,” Neal commented, “Sven wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Otterman rolled his eyes, and went back to reading his book without a word.

“This enough snow for you, Henrik?” Neal called over.

Moose Boy glanced all around and shot him a wide and dopey looking grin. “Yes!” he answered, “It’s perfect!”

"Okay, team, I have our route mapped out in my com, and I’ve sent the information to all of you,” Crackle announced, “If we somehow get separated, we can follow our coms.”

“Even without a signal?” Otterman asked, pulling out his com to take a look.

Crackle nodded, “The map is downloaded on the internal memory, and doesn’t require a signal. We won’t be able to contact each other, but we’ll at least all have a map.”

“I thought you said we were buying supplies in the town,” Otterman stated, “Maybe it’s just my bad eyesight, but it looks like a barren wasteland all around us.”

“The town is fifteen kilometers north. After we buy what we need, we should be able to get to the mines within a few hours of driving."

“Maybe V.I.L.E forgot to book us a van?” Theodore said worriedly.

Crackle glanced all around, but there was nothing but ice and snow as far as he could see. “The information packet said a ten passenger van would be waiting for us.”

“Well, then where is it?” Roosevelt demanded impatiently.

“It’s probably just a bit late.”

Most of Team Crackle did **not** look very happy as they stood shivering outside the plane. As they waited for their rental van to arrive, Crackle continued trying to find a signal for his com. 

The entire team was completely bundled up in full winter gear, but the wind was bitter, and it was quickly making most of them miserable. Moose Boy and Otterman were used to freezing temperatures, and they were hardly bothered by the frigid air, but the rest weren’t so lucky. Neal was by far the unhappiest of them all, and he had so many layers on that he could barely move his arms. Even with three coats and four sweaters on, he couldn't stop shivering, and was bouncing on his feet in an attempt to warm up.

"Can we get back on the plane?" he asked. "Kiwis don't do well in cold weather…we're tropical creatures."

"Our van will be here any minute." Crackle answered, not even glancing at him. "I'm sure you'll survive until then."

“New Zealand isn’t a tropical country,” Otterman pointed out, “It snows in most regions, and so you must have experienced a **bit** of cold growing up.”

“Yeah, and I hated it!” Neal exclaimed, “I have really bad circulation because of my EDS and it makes me miserable in the cold.”

“I don’t really know much about EDS,” Otterman admitted, “Is there anything doctors could do about it?”

“Nope,” Neal answered, stomping his feet in an attempt to warm them up, “I’m like this for life.”

“I have a hand-warmer if you want it,” Otterman offered, holding a small packet out towards him.

Neal accepted it and frowned down at it. “A what? How does it work?”

“Just open the package and bend the handwarmer until you hear a snap and then it will warm up. It should help a bit with your hands.”

Neal ripped open the package and then bent the small plastic device until there was an audible snap. When he felt the heat coming from it, he grinned widely and then clapped Otterman on the back.

“Thanks, I owe you one!” 

Crackle glanced back to his com. “The van is really late...” he commented, “Hopefully there isn’t an issue. We might be here for a while.”

Neal let out a moan of complaint and then backed up and squashed himself between the twins in an attempt to steal some body-heat from the massive men. Dash was used to cold winters from his time growing up in New York, but even he found the air much too cold. Pulling his scarf up over his nose, he glanced over at Paper Star who didn't really seem like she was bothered by the cold weather. It was sometimes hard to tell with her, however, and Dash suspected she was just as miserable as the rest of them. 

Dash peeked inside the heated cat carrier, but Steve and the kittens seemed to be perfectly content, and so he closed it again to protect them from the cold.

Moose Boy and Otterman began chatting with each other in Swedish, neither of the men even shivering yet. Moose Boy was grinning widely, clearly happy over the snow, and even the twins had been snapping a few photos of the landscape.

"How cold is it right now?" Neal demanded, "This is **horrible**, and we've only been here five minutes."

"Negative 30 Celsius," Crackle answered, frowning down at his com. "The temperature will drop further once the sun goes down."

Neal scowled and burrowed deeper between the twins.

"Weren't you the operative that was sent to a Russian military base for a job last year?" Dash challenged.

"Yes," Neal admitted. "Russia, **in the summer**. This is completely different. My jingle bells, if you know what I mean, are about to freeze off."

"Don't be such a wuss," Roosevelt commented, "It's not so bad."

“You’re shivering too,” Neal pointed out, “and you two are insulated with a lot of extra chub!”

“I’m **not** fat,” Roosevelt responded, “It’s all muscle.”

Neal glanced at Roosevelt’s chubby belly and looked like he disagreed, but he was worried he'd lose Roosevelt's bodyheat if he argued. He said nothing at all, and instead turned his attention to their luggage. He pulled over one of his dufflebags and yanked out another pair of gloves.

"You're not wearing all that during the mission," Crackle informed him, "You can barely move and that puts you in danger."

"Aw, love," Neal complained, "Don't do this to me. If I take any of these layers off, I’m going to freeze to death!"

Theodore rested a hand on top of Neal's head affectionately. "The first cold day is always the worst," he assured him, "Winter could get really cold in New Jersey. You'll get used to it soon, I promise. If not, the polar bears will get a nice frozen eel to snack on."

Neal couldn't help but smile at that. "Would you really let me get eaten by a bear?" he questioned in amusement.

Theodore laughed. "No,” he admitted, "Of course not, I'd fight it off for you. It would be much too quiet on the team without you."

"How about you, Dash?" Neal asked, shooting the other man a cocky grin. "Would you fight a bear for me?"

"I'd help the bear,” Dash commented, sticking his nose into the air snootily.

Neal raised a brow in amusement. "Oh? You're going to help the bear 'eat' me are you, Dash? How very kinky of you."

Although Dash's face was hidden behind the scarf, Neal could still see the indignant fury. "Ugh, you're impossible," he complained, “Get your mind out of the gutter!”

"I'm not the one with a VORE fetish," Neal teased.

Dash let out an aggravated sigh. "Why do you have so many bags?" he demanded, "Did you really bring **that** many winter clothes with you?"

Neal glanced down at his six dufflebags. "Maybe," he answered evasively.

A large black van could finally be seen driving towards the airstrip, and everyone let out a breath of relief.

"SHOTGUN!" Neal called out, wanting to sit as close to the van's heaters as possible.

The van was a small black dot in the distance, and it seemed to take an eternity as it crawled closer and closer down the road.

The van pulled up just in front of them and the driver rolled down the window. He was a friendly looking First Nation Inuit man and he gave them a sheepish wave.

"Sorry for the long wait, folks. We had a bit of an emergency in town, and I had to help deal with it. I'm assuming you're the research team I was sent to pick up?" he asked.

Crackle gave him a nod. "Yes, we're from the Indigenous Studies Foundation of America, and we heard about the recent discovery in the mines. We've come to document it."

"Excellent," the man said, "My name is Ukiuk Umiaktorvik, and I own the rental company in town. I’ll take you to the town where you can get your supplies, and then from there you’ll need to hurry to make it to your destination.”

Crackle gave him a friendly smile and nodded. "Sounds great, Ukiuk. Thank you for your help."

“You’re Australian?" Ukiuk asked in surprise.

“Born and proud!” Crackle responded.

“Very nice!” Ukiuk exclaimed, “I don’t think we’ve ever had an Australian in our little village before!”

"I still call shotgun," Neal said, interrupting, “You guys **never** let me ride shotgun, and so I’m calling it right now!”

Ukiuk gave Neal a surprised look, and then he grinned in amusement. "Oh, another one! You're a long way from home,” he observed. "You’re Australian too, right?"

Neal crossed his arms with an offended frown. "Nope."

Ukiuk raised a brow. "Not Australian?" he asked in surprise.

"Nope," Neal repeated, still offended.

“Oh, I’m sorry, but your accent-” Ukiuk trailed off awkwardly.

"Neal, no one can tell an Australian accent from a New Zealand accent. Get over it," Dash commented.

Ukiuk offered Neal an apologetic smile. "New Zealand, eh? Sorry for getting it confused, I've never had an ear for accents. New Zealand seems like a beautiful country; lots of rolling hills!"

Neal wasn't actually that bothered by the mistake, and offered him an amused smile. "Shotgun," he repeated, “I still call shotgun.”

Ukiuk got out of the van and approached to help them load their bags into the van. "When I was told to expect researchers, I wasn't expecting a group as young as you," he commented, "I was expecting a bunch of dusty old men."

"Dash is a bit dusty from lack of use," Neal commented, tossing one of his bags into the back of the van.

Dash said nothing, instead elbowing Neal aside as he put his own bag into the back of the van. He then crawled in the van and set the carrier on the seat beside him.

Once all the bags had been loaded, Ukiuk closed the hatch and then approached the driver's side to get in.

"SHOTGUN!" Neal called out again, hurrying for the passenger side.

Crackle caught him by the arm. "I'm sitting up front," he said, passing him by to get in the van.

"Aw, are you serious?" Neal protested. "I **called** it! You don't go against code! That's just rude! I called it!"

"Want to walk instead?" Crackle asked him. "The town is fifteen kilometers away."

Neal got into the backseat without another word. The van was warm and he pressed himself into Theodore's side, just trying to regain a bit of warmth into his arms. When they were all in the van, Ukiuk started the engine, and they were soon driving across the frozen tarmac towards the road.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Team Red were loading their bags onto their private jet, when Zack finally saw his chance and slipped away from Mime Bomb and headed for his sister.

"You get everything on the list?" he asked her as quietly as he could.

"Sure did," she whispered back, "Everyone's in on it, and they're all going to help us. Antonio was **really** excited about it. Even though Jean Paul is non-practicing Jewish, he said he'll help us with everything. He’s still trying to make it up to Mime Bomb in his own way. He’ll make sure everything is good enough."

Zack passed several shopping bags stuffed full over to her. "I found a few things in the giftshop that we can use," he whispered, “Mime Bomb got distracted by the cafe, and so he didn’t see anything I bought!”

Ivy glanced over to Mime Bomb who was holding a whole tray of coffee, and she suspected he had no intention of sharing any of them. She smiled and shook her head, knowing he didn’t suspect a thing. She really hoped they could make the holidays extra special for him this year. Mime Bomb’s life had been difficult and stressful, and she knew he deserved to be happy. Once the lab had been destroyed, and their enemies were in jail, he could finally begin to heal. 

Ivy glanced inside the bags, and then grinned up at her brother. "Oh, perfect, look at all this stuff! Everyone found so many things and this is going to be awesome!"

Zack smiled at her brightly in return. "Oh, man, I can't wait to see his reaction!"

Ivy laughed, feeling the same way. "Eventually, Mime Bomb is going to learn that he never has to change who he is for us. We love him just the way he is."

Zack nodded his agreement, and they boarded the plane in good spirits, eager to get things started. Mime Bomb boarded after them, and was confused when Tigress immediately ushered him to the far side of the plane away from everyone else. She forced him down into the one seat he wouldn't be able to see the rest of the plane, and then sat beside him so he couldn't get out. He gave her a flabbergasted look, and she plopped her laptop on the armrest between them and said.

"Okay, you're the only other gamer in the house besides the ginger nitwit. You're going to help me figure out the room I'm stuck on in Portal 2. I've been stuck on it for two days, and Zack told me you've beaten this game twice already."

She shoved a controller into his hands and then powered on the laptop, as Mime Bomb gave her a look of disbelief.

"It's a fifteen hour flight, and so helping me for a few minutes isn't going to kill you," she snapped.

Mime Bomb frowned at her, not liking the way she was 'asking' him to help.

"Help, or I swear to god I'm going to tear up your precious Unleash the Archers poster the second we're home."

Mime Bomb stared at her in complete horror, and by her expression she seemed completely serious. He had gotten a signed poster when he and Zack went to the concert back in October and everyone knew how much he loved it. Giving her a dirty look, he set his coffees down on the pulldown tray and then pulled the laptop a bit closer. He powered on the controller and then clicked on Steam, knowing he didn't really have a choice. Expression thunderous, he shot Tigress a glare and then clicked on Portal 2, waiting impatiently as the game started.

"I keep falling in the acid," Tigress told him as it loaded where she left off.

To Mime Bomb's annoyance, she was near the very beginning of the game. He turned and gave her another unimpressed look.

"Just play, clown, and I'll watch," she ordered, turning the volume up high, “It’s not like you have anything better to do right now.”

Letting out a deep sigh, he turned his attention back to the screen and began playing. 

Tigress glanced over at the others and then gave them a nod and thumb’s up. The rest of Team Red immediately went into action and hung up a blanket to block what they were doing. They then began getting everything ready as quietly as they could. 

Tigress kept an eye on the others while making sure to keep Mime Bomb’s attention on the game. She just needed to distract him for a while, and then she’d apologize for bullying him into this. Mime Bomb shot her another glare, and she scowled at him and crossed her arms.

“Think of the poster, clown,” she warned.

Mime Bomb rolled his eyes, let out a silent sigh and turned his attention back to the game.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The town of Q'ilalugaq Bay was very tiny and situated directly on the edge of the water where dozens of fishing boats were docked on the beach. The waters in the bay were frozen solid, and several people could be seen walking across the ice in the distance. 

There were only a few dozen buildings in the whole town, and the houses were small and painted colourfully, giving the town a friendly but poor first appearance. The locals milled about dressed in a mixture between traditional inuit clothing made of skins, and standard colourful winter clothing. Children waved at them as they entered the town, and Neal leaned over Roosevelt so he could wave back at them. The children laughed in delight, and Neal grinned widely.

"Neal, you're embarrassing," Dash complained with a sigh.

"Aw, it's cute," Neal commented, "Come on, Dash, where's your Christmas spirit? Wave to the kids!"

"It's not Christmas yet," Dash responded, irritably.

"Well, in two days it will be."

"Complain to me then," Dash said, glancing out the window at the boats as they drove by.

Many of the boats were in pretty rough shape, and most looked like they needed to be repainted. Dash thought fishermen were gross, and his nose curled up in disgust.

"Quite a sight, aren't they?" Ukiuk said, proudly pointing towards them, "Mine is the green one with yellow lettering."

"I'm assuming this is a fishing village?" Dash asked, his tone dripping with disdain.

"Yes, that's our main industry in this town." Ukiuk explained. "We provide all the meat to the nearby military base and sell our fish to most of Baffin Island. We do well for ourselves here, and you're welcome to look around the town if you like."

"Thank you, but we're in a hurry," Crackle informed him politely, "Please take us to our guide so we can get to the mines as soon as possible."

Ukiuk laughed. "I **am** your guide," he told them, "I'll take you to the general store to get any supplies you need, and then we'll get going."

"My GPS says the mine is about three hours outside of Q'ilalugaq Bay, is that correct?" Crackle asked.

"That's right," Ukiuk replied, stopping the van in front of one of the buildings. "This is Almi's General store. There are no other stores in town, but she should carry the type of equipment you'll need."

Turning off the engine, Ukiuk got out of the car and everyone quickly followed him. Neal immediately began shivering again the second he was outside, and hurried towards the building, hoping it would be warm in there. The inside of the shop was incredibly cluttered with everything from clothing to snackfoods, but to Neal's relief, it was warm.

"_ Atelihai _, hello," the elderly woman behind the counter greeted them. "You must be the Americans."

"Only half of us are American, love," Neal responded, glancing all around.

The old woman smiled at Ukiuk as he entered. "Help them find what they need,” she instructed.

To Neal's surprise, the woman then turned all of her attention on him and the twins. "Come, come," she invited, taking Theodore by the arm. "I will show you Almi's famous snacks. Big fellows like you must be starving after your trip. Let me show you all the snacks we have for sale here."

Neal was a bit confused. "Er...okay,” he said, following after her.

The twins exchanged a confused look, but followed without protest. Moose Boy hurried after them, the word ‘snacks’ catching his attention.

The woman pointed to a large variety of dried meats in jars. "These are my special jerkies,” she told them, "I dry these the old fashioned way in the sun. I have every kind of meat available in our community!"

The twins and Moose Boy began looking through the shelves of junkfood, and Neal was left with the old woman.

The prices were quite high and seemed to range about $5 per piece of jerky. Neal eyed the jars of candy behind the till, and the woman followed his gaze.

"Candy is .50 a piece," she told him, "How many can I get you?"

Dash appeared at Neal’s elbow and peered down at the jars of meat in disgust.

"Ugh," he commented, "What a disgusting town. I can’t wait to get away from here."

Almi immediately scowled at Dash.

“I think the town is very quaint,” Neal replied, “Seems friendly enough.”

“This is a stupid mission, and I want to go home,” Dash stated, “I’m sick of V.I.L.E sending us on the worst missions. We shouldn’t put up with it.”

Neal rolled his eyes. “So, what you’re saying is that you’re having ‘Nunavut’ ?”

Dash hesitated and then he let out a groan. “Why am I even talking to you?”

“It’s because you find me irresistible!” Neal responded with a wink.

Dash pulled a face, and then turned away. “Ugh, I’m walking away now.”

“Hey, Dash, wait a sec!”

Dash paused and looked back at him.

"My wallet's in my jeans pocket and I can't get to it with all these layers. Will you lend me some cash?"

"You wish," Dash responded with a snort, grabbing a pack of gum and a bottle of water, setting them both on the counter.

"Oh, come on," Neal protested, "You're buying something anyway! Just lend me like twenty bucks and I'll pay you back once I can get to my wallet."

"Nope," Dash responded, looking way too pleased with himself.

"Are you really going to make me take off all these layers just to get to my wallet?" Neal demanded.

"That is really not my problem," Dash replied with a shrug, "You're the one who decided to wear all of that."

Neal glared at him, and then let out a sigh. Removing his three pairs of gloves, he set them on the counter and then unzipped his first coat.

"$8.29," Almi told Dash, “Canadian cash or card only.”

As Dash paid for his purchase, Neal removed his first coat and then unzipped the second one. He added it to the pile and then began unzipping his third coat. Almi paused as she handed Dash back his change and then stared at Neal in disbelief. 

Neal had looked like a morbidly obese man with all the layers, but she watched as he got skinnier and skinner with each layer he took off. When he came to the last coat, he then began peeling off sweaters. After four sweaters, he finally had access to the straps of his snow pants, and he yanked them down so he could reach his jeans pocket.

"Aha!" Neal said triumphantly, holding up the wallet.

Almi stared at the very skinny man in front of her, and cocked her head. "Cold?" she guessed.

"Freezing," Neal admitted, fixing his snow pants. "I'm not used to any sort of cold weather."

Almi's eyes lit up and she tossed the change towards Dash, and then rushed over to seize Neal by the arm. "I can help!" she said excitedly.

She yanked him over to the clothing portion of the store and she selected a long traditional Inuit parka and shoved it into his arms. The coat was heavy and lined with fur and it was made of some sort of animal skin.

"I don't really need any more clothes, love," he told the old woman gently.

"Try it and you'll see!" she assured him, "Put it on, and you won't be cold."

Deciding to humour her, he slipped on the parka and fastened it, immediately feeling incredibly warm.

"Test it out!" she ordered, "Go outside!"

Neal didn't really have much of a choice because she shoved him across the room and then out the door.

To Neal's complete surprise, he felt no colder than when he'd been inside. His legs were getting cold, and his hands as well, but his torso was perfectly warm. It was the warmest coat he’d ever worn.

"Well, what do you think?" Almi demanded, “Very nice, isn’t it?”

Neal glanced down at the tacky parka thoughtfully. "...do you take Visa?"

Almi smiled at him brightly. "Come, and I'll show you the snow pants and gloves to go with it. You won't have to worry about being cold ever again."

Neal stared at her for a moment, realizing he was going to buy the clothes no matter how much they cost. "...er, okay," he agreed, following her back inside.

A few minutes later he was wearing matching snow pants, boots and gloves, and had never felt warmer. As he approached the counter, Dash stared at him like he was crazy.

"You're **not** going to buy that…" he said in disbelief.

"Sure am."

"We're only going to be here for a couple days!"

"Worth it."

Neal then turned his attention to the snacks. "I'll get 200 mixed candies too."

Dash glanced at the Visa card in Neal’s hand and gave him a concerned look. “Is that your V.I.L.E Visa?! We’re not supposed to be using those accounts!”

“It’s safe to use it here,” Neal responded, “V.I.L.E already knows we’re here, and they can’t trace this to our base in any way. All they’ll know is that I made a massive purchase in Nunavut.”

Dash hadn’t considered this and wondered if he could get away with buying expensive things anytime they were on a mission. This would open **so** many possibilities for him!

As Almi began counting the candy out into a paper bag, Neal began inspecting the different jerkies. "Why is this one over here only a dollar?" he asked.

Almi glanced over. "That's mystery jerky," she answered with a shrug.

There was suddenly a massive crash and everyone looked over and saw Moose Boy had somehow knocked down an entire display of chips and other snacks. There was candy absolutely everywhere, and it was obvious there were a lot of damaged goods. He was standing there like a deer in headlights, and Otterman let out a curse.

“Dammit, Henrik, I told you to be careful!”

“I’m sorry, Sven, I tripped!”

“One moment,” Almi informed Neal, “I’ll be right back.”

Almi rushed over to assess the damage as Moose Boy knelt down to start picking things up off the floor.

Neal watched for a moment, and then stared thoughtfully at the jar of mystery jerky. Dash elbowed him with a frown.

"Don't you even **dare**!" he hissed, "You have no idea what that is!"

Neal slowly reached out towards the jar and removed the lid.

"Oh my god," Dash commented, looking slightly ill.

Neal removed a piece of the odd-coloured jerky with a pair of tongs, and then took it into his hand. He gave it a sniff and Dash stared at him, unable to believe Neal was actually touching it.

"That could be **anything**! It could be ground mealworms, or fish guts for all you know."

"Could be," Neal acknowledged, "But I like a challenge, and I'm excellent at guessing mystery foods."

He then took a bite of the jerky and Dash physically recoiled away from him. Neal chewed slowly and thoughtfully as he tried to place the taste, and then he frowned.

"Well, what is it?" Dash demanded.

"I have no idea,” Neal admitted, "Dried fish...maybe? This is definitely a mystery. I don't know this flavour."

"That is horrifying," Dash commented, "**You** are horrifying. Ugh, I'm going back to see what the others are up to before you make me sick."

Neal took another bite of the jerky, still unable to place the flavour. He was undecided about whether it was gross or edible and chewed slowly as he considered it. Almi came back, and gave him a smile when she saw he was trying the jerky.

"Are you sure you can't tell me what this is?" he asked.

Almi gave him another smile. "Wouldn't be a mystery then."

"If I guess, will you tell me if I'm right?"

She eyed him for a moment and then sighed. "Fine, guess away."

"Fish?"

"No."

Neal frowned, because he'd been certain it was some kind of fish. "Seal?"

"No."

"Rabbit?"

"No."

She set the sack of candy on the counter.

"Deer?"

"There are no deer on Baffin Island, just caribou."

"Okay, fine. Caribou?"

"No."

"Er...fox?"

"No."

"It's not dog, is it?"

"Of course not."

"No domestic pets right? I'm going to be pissed if this is cat meat."

"It's a wild animal."

"Bear?"

"No."

"Squirrel?"

"No."

Neal was seriously starting to get worried. Maybe Dash was right about this jerky…

"Is it a type of bug?"

"No, it is a mammal," she confirmed as she began ringing up his purchases.

"Urm...Can you give me a hint?"

"I just did."

Neal pulled out his Visa card as he thought about it. "Wolf?"

"No."

"Rat?"

"No."

"Oh, geez, love, I dunno. Shark?"

"No."

"Uhhh, chipmunk?"

"No."

Neal swiped his Visa and paid for his incredibly expensive purchase, all the while trying to wrack his mind about what it could be.

"You said it's a mammal, and so that rules out birds. Hmm..."

"Would you like your receipt?"

"No, that's fine."

"Do you give up?" she asked.

Neal tried to think of the most ridiculous animal he could. "Unicorn?"

"It is," she confirmed, grinning at him widely.

Neal just stared at her. "Er...what now, love?"

"It is the unicorn of the sea," she elaborated.

Neal blinked. "...unicorn of the sea?" he repeated in confusion, and then he realized what she meant. "A narwhal?" he asked.

She smiled at him. "It **is**," she confirmed, "We had an over-abundance after this years 'harvest' so I decided to make the excess into jerky. Here, you're a nice boy, and so I'll throw in a few pieces for free."

Neal stared down at the jerky in his hand with a frown, and a few seconds later, he was handed several bags with his old clothes stuffed inside as well as the candy and jerky.

"Er...thank you." Neal told her, glancing over at Crackle who was also just finishing up his purchases.

"No problem, I hope to see you again on your return!"

Almi then turned to Moose Boy who was holding all of the damaged merchandise. “Place the items on the counter and I’ll ring you up,”

Otterman was standing beside Moose Boy with crossed arms, unable to believe his partner had just damaged hundreds of dollars worth of snack foods.

Neal approached the others, and when the twins got a good look at him, they both immediately began snickering.

"Laugh all you want, but while **you're** freezing off your silver bells in this arctic hell, I'm going to be perfectly warm and toasty."

Crackle looked him up and down, raised a brow, but didn't comment.

"You find everything we needed?" Neal asked him.

Crackle nodded. "I did,” he confirmed, “Is everyone ready to go?"

“One sec,” Roosevelt said, placing a few large bottles of alcohol on the counter.

Crackle narrowed his eyes. “**After** the mission,” he instructed.

Roosevelt nodded his agreement and pulled out his Visa to pay Ukiuk. “We can get plastered on Christmas,” he said.

“Sounds good to me,” Theodore said.

“And me,” Paper Star agreed.

“Me too,” Neal said.

A moment later, everyone was done, and Crackle glanced at his team. “Alright, are we ready to leave now?”

Neal grinned at him brightly. "I’d say so, Graham."

Dash gave Neal a grimace, seeing that he was still carrying a half-eaten piece of the mystery jerky.

"Did you find out what that is?" he asked as they headed for the door.

"Yup."

"Well, what is it?" Dash demanded, pretty certain he didn't actually want to know.

"It's unicorn," Neal answered in despair, "I accidentally ate a unicorn."

"Oh," Dash answered, not really paying attention. The words then caught up to his brain and he turned to stare at Neal. "Wait...**what**?"

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Mime Bomb was now three hours into the game and his anger had faded as he began getting into the story of the game. He loved puzzle games and despite having played the game twice before, he was enjoying it just as much as the first time around. As long as he could remember, he loved solving puzzles, deciphering codes and clues. It made him excellent at these sorts of games, and he often helped Zack get past difficult puzzles in games.

Tigress glanced over at the others every now and then, and when they finally gave her a nod, she slammed closed the laptop, taking Mime Bomb by surprise.

"I'm bored. Time for a break," she announced.

Mime Bomb glared at her, and then heaved a sigh. Tigress got up from her seat, finally allowing Mime Bomb to escape, and when he looked back at the rest of the plane, he saw a blanket had been hung up, blocking the end of the plane from view. Furrowing his brow, he wondered what everyone was doing and cautiously approached. The second he pulled aside the blanket, he was not prepared for the sight that met him.

The whole inside of the plane was decorated in the blue and silver of Hanukkah, with a Star of David hanging on the wall and streamers dangling from every surface. Silver snowflakes hung from the ceiling, and everyone was wearing tacky Hanukkah sweaters. His gaze fell on a large silver menorah which rested on a table with a blue tablecloth. Every member of Team Red was smiling happily at him, and Mime Bomb eyed the display uncertainly.

Zack strode forward and threw an arm around his shoulders. "Happy Hanukkah, Mime Bomb!"

Mime Bomb stared with wide eyes, unable to take his gaze from the decorations. They had put so much work into the decorations and he knew it would have taken them hours.

"Today is the first day of Hanukkah, and we want to celebrate it with you," Zack told him. "We'd never make anyone give up **any** of their family traditions. Instead we now celebrate both holidays as a family."

Mime Bomb glanced at Zack, completely dumbfounded, and then turned his attention to the eager faces of his family. Did he really not have to choose between Christmas and Hanukkah? He could have **both**? Tigress had put on a sweater of her own, and she shoved one into Mime Bomb's arms with a smirk.

"Come on, weirdo, show us how to do this whole Hanukkah thing. I’m sorry I was so mean to you earlier. I just didn’t want you to suspect anything."

Mime Bomb couldn't believe they had done all of this just for him, and he found himself smiling uncertainly. He signed thank you to the room, and Zack simply laughed.

Carmen wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "We all love you the way you are, Mime Bomb, and we'd **never** ask you to give up a part of yourself for us. Family doesn’t do that," Carmen told him, smiling at him in encouragement. "Now let's enjoy the first night of Hanukkah together."

"It's now dark," El Topo informed him, holding out the shamash towards him. "Do you want to light the first candle now?"

Mime Bomb gave another glance around at his found family, and then gave everyone a bright smile and nodded. He slipped the baggy sweater over his head, and then approached the menorah. He knelt down beside the table and everyone gathered around him. 

Le Chèvre hesitantly knelt beside him and Mime Bomb gave him a long look, knowing the other man must have helped with all of this. Le Chèvre held out the shamash towards him, and he seemed a bit uncertain. Instead of taking it, Mime Bomb placed his hand on top of Le Chèvre's so they both could light it together. Le Chèvre seemed incredibly surprised, and he gave him a hesitant look. Mime Bomb offered him a slight smile, and then nodded. He had finally been forgiven. Le Chèvre gave him a nod of understanding, and felt the tension leave the room.

Le Chèvre lit the shamash and as they held it above the first candle, Le Chèvre recited the words he hadn't said since he was a child.

"Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has granted us life, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this occasion."

They then lit the candle and Mime Bomb smiled at everyone, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"Okay!" Ivy exclaimed, "Time for food!"

El Topo carried over a large tray of food and took a seat on the floor beside the other two men. Mime Bomb saw latkes, jelly donuts and blue and silver sugar cookies and wondered how they possibly had time to arrange all of this. It must have taken everyone working together all morning to accomplish something like this.

"Everything is store-bought, but it should still be good," El Topo assured him.

Everyone else took a seat around them, and as El Topo dished out the food, Mime Bomb felt the happiest he had in a long time. This was his family, and this is where he belonged. As everyone ate, laughed together, and simply enjoyed each other’s company, Mime Bomb was truly grateful for the family he had found.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**The next chapter should be posted in 2 weeks. Chapter 34-38 are all part of the Christmas fic re-write. Now that we know all the characters, nothing can be spoiled, and the fic has been re-written to include everyone in it. If you've already read the Christmas fic posted back in December, I'd still check out the next few chapters because a lot has been added. The Christmas fic re-write will be the next four chapters since a lot of new stuff happens in it!**

**A huge thank you to the super-talented artists who did artwork for this chapter!**

**Violetfic created two awesome pics this chapter! She created the pics of Ukiuk and the pic of the lighting of the candle.  
**

**Coulrosaurus created the awesome Mime Bomb pic** ****

**The pic of the town is a stock image from Google and I do not it. The town shown is Pangnirtung in the Yukon, Canada.**

.

**Credit for the names of Otterman and Moose Boy go to Animedemon01**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**

**Please don't forget to let me know what you think! **


	35. The Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone!
> 
> We're getting sooo close to the end of Broken! I estimate there will be 42 chapters in total, and then arc 3 begins!
> 
> An enormous thank you to the very awesome Violetfic and Coulrosaurus for offering plenty of good suggestions, and for being my betas! They both seriously offered SO many suggestions for this fic that they both deserve some recognition! You guys really helped improve this story a lot and you're awesome!
> 
> Please note that Dr. Vess and Michael Jr. both use the F-word extremely frequently in their everyday speech. You have been warned. Dr. Vess was created by Violetfic, and I am using him with her permission.
> 
> If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 35**

**The Mine**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

It was cold. Incredibly cold.

Despite the heat being on full blast in the van, Team Crackle were still freezing as they drove along the tundra. There was absolutely nothing as far as they could see, the ground flat and frozen. They could see mountains in the far distance and that seemed to be the direction their guide was taking them.

Paper Star had taken the only blanket in the van and wrapped it around herself, and huddled in the back seat beside Dash. When Dash had dared complain about her hogging the blanket, Paper Star had leveled him with such a look that he'd immediately fallen silent. Paper Star had mellowed out a lot over the last few months, but he still wasn't dumb enough to push her too far, especially when she was already in a bad mood. 

Instead Dash sat, arms crossed, and subtly leaned against Moose Boy in an attempt to steal some body heat. Otterman had fallen asleep an hour into the drive and he was using Moose Boy’s lap as a pillow, completely unbothered by the cold. Moose Boy didn’t mind being crowded on both sides and he idly ran his fingers through Otterman’s hair as he listened to their guide. 

Neal was perfectly warm and content in his massive coat, and he was quite smug over this. He kept teasing Dash about it who looked like he was completely frozen. Dash ignored him for the most part, pretending to listen to what the guide was telling them.

Ukiuk was enthusiastically telling stories to pass the time since the radio was broken and the silence in the van had begun to become awkward. Ukiuk told Team Crackle all about the local legends of his people, and the history of the village. It made for an entertaining three hours, and the twins seemed to be more into the stories than anyone else. Dash suspected this was because they probably thought the legends were all true, but he didn’t say anything. The stories were better than listening to whatever Neal had to blather about, and so he sat quietly and simply enjoyed the outrageous tales they were being told.

Neal sat between Theodore and Roosevelt and he had the massive bag of candy on his lap, and was sharing with the twins as they listened to the stories. They learned about the importance of all the animals in the land, and about the spirits of the Inuit ancestors. Ukiuk told them about an ancient white bear who was said to inhabit the lands.

“Nanuk is the great spirit of all polar bears,” he explained, “He is the one to judge the worth of any hunter who crossed territory belonging to the bears. He himself is almost man in his intelligence and cunning, and he cannot be deceived. He will watch the hunter and judge his courage, his sincerity and his heart. A hunter with evil in his heart will be consumed, but a hunter with a pure heart will be allowed to kill the bear and return home in peace. Nanuk has always controlled the hunt of our people, and he is still honoured by us even to this day.”

“Absolutely ridiculous,” Dash commented, “How could anyone ever believe in this nonsense?”

Neal leaned over the seat from behind Dash. “You’re only bitter because the magic bear wouldn’t find  **you** pure of heart!”

Dash scoffed.

Ukiuk laughed, not bothered by the rudeness. “Just don’t go for any walks on the tundra or you might find yourself being judged.”

Dash rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t planning on it. I’m not staying here any longer than I have to.”

Ukiuk was a talented story-teller and even Paper Star sat in silence as she listened to the stories of various hunters and their families. There was an obvious theme of good vs. evil, and good always won in the end. Paper Star was not a fan of these endings.

“What about this star we’re going to see?” she asked, “Can you tell us a little about it?”

“The Ulloriaq, also known in English as the Northern Star is the most valuable discovery in Inuit history,” Ukiuk explained excitedly.

“Why?” Dash demanded skeptically.

“This is the first piece of Inuit history that shows how we navigated across the Great Bering Land Bridge thousands of years ago. The Star has special carvings on it that align with the stars, and this is what they would have used to avoid losing their way. It tells the story of the tribe who traveled here, and proves that the bridge wasn’t just legend after all. This is the only star found to have these markings and it’s a great discovery. The National Museum of Nunavut is going to put it on display, once it’s safe to dig in the mines.”

“Why isn’t it safe?” Crackle demanded in concern, “We were told we’d be able to view the star to take photographs!”

“The weight of the snow on the mountain could cause the mines to collapse the moment someone starts digging. It’s been on the verge of collapse since October due to the unusually heavy winter we've been getting. Once the snow melts, it will be safe to remove the star. As long as you’re quiet and don’t touch anything, it should be safe to just look at the star.”

Everyone glanced over at Crackle in alarm, who carefully kept his gaze straight ahead. “We’ll be extremely careful when we take our photos, and we won’t disturb the dig-site,” he promised, “We’ve all been trained with all the proper procedures.”

“Of course,” Ukiuk replied. “I know your team are professionals. You came highly recommended from the National Art Institute for your wonderful articles. Which one of your group is the writer?”

“Me,” Neal answered without hesitation. “I’m the chatterbox of the group, and it works out well when I put a pen to paper.”

“I wish you’d  **only** communicate using pen and paper,” Dash muttered irritably, “You’d be easier to ignore that way.”

“Aw, lighten up,” Neal teased, “You’ll feel better once we get to the lodge and warm up a bit.”

Dash rolled his eyes and looked away.

“We should be to the lodge in just a few minutes,” Ukiuk informed them, “It’s more than large enough for your entire team, and it’s well insulated.”

“Will you be staying with us?” Crackle demanded.

Ukiuk shook his head. “No, I want to get home before dark. You’ll have plenty of food and fuel, and there’s an old satellite radio in case you need emergency help. You shouldn’t need my help with anything as long as you can find your way to the mines.”

“I have the mines marked on the map, so we won’t have any problem,” Crackle assured him.

They could see a building in the distance, and everyone was relieved the long and cold drive was finally over with.

Moose Boy glanced down at Otterman and then gently shook his shoulder.

[[Sven, wake up,]] he said softly, [[We’re here!”]]

Otterman slowly sat up, rubbed at his eyes and then immediately began feeling around for his glasses. Moose Boy removed them out of his front pocket and handed them over, Otterman taking them gratefully. Now that he could see a little better, he glanced out the window but all he could see was white.

“...I don’t see anything.”

“What else is new?” Dash muttered.

“The lodge is just up ahead,” Crackle told him, “We’ll be there in just a minute.”

Otterman nodded and gave a yawn. The rest of the team had slept on the plane, but he’d stayed up to figure out their finances. He’d worked everything out and he was certain they’d be fine from now on. Finally their money problems would be over with for a while. Still tired, he leaned against Moose Boy’s shoulder as they approached the cabin.

“Okay everyone, we’re here!” Ukiuk told them, pulling the van up to an incredibly large, old-fashioned lodge. “This is where the miners stay during the spring and summer season, but it’s empty right now. There is plenty of food in the cupboards and candles and flashlights. No electricity up this far, and so you’ll have to start the generator if you want to use the lights or the stove. You’ll have to run the generator for at least two hours to thaw the water in the well before you can use it.”

“Hey, it looks big enough that we’ll actually get our own rooms!” Neal exclaimed.

“There are twenty rooms in the lodge,” Ukiuk answered, “Plenty of space for your team!”

“Thank god for small favours,” Dash sighed, knowing it would be nice to have a bit of privacy on this mission.

“I’ve marked the mine on the physical map for you in case your phone loses its charge,” Ukiuk told them, “I can’t stay more than a few minutes, so be sure to ask any questions you have. Avoid being out after dark because it’s extremely easy to get turned around out here, and it gets incredibly cold.”

“We’ll be fine,” Crackle assured him, “We’re going to be extremely careful.”

“The outhouse is behind the cabin, and there should be plenty of paper. The lock sticks and so be careful not to get trapped in there. I suggest going out in pairs.”

Dash’s head whipped around to stare at him. “The  **what** ?” he demanded, certain he’d misheard.

Ukiuk gave him a confused look. “The outhouse? It’s over there, behind the house.”

Dash’s whole body stiffened. “There’s no indoor bathroom?”

“Not this far up North,” Ukiuk told him sympathetically, “No running water because the pipes would freeze. There’s a well located in the front room that you can use for drinking water. You just need to break the ice first or run the generator.”

Every member of Team Crackle turned to stare at Dash as the other man gaped at Ukiuk in complete horror.

“An  **outhouse** ?!” Dash repeated, his voice raising an octave. An outhouse was far,  **far** worse than a port-a-potty since it was never cleaned and never emptied. Hundreds of people could have used it for all he knew and it made him sick just thinking about it. 

Neal grinned at him, knowing this was going to be a highly entertaining interaction. “Yeah, you know, the type of bathroom where everyone poops in the same hole? An outhouse!”

Dash shook his head. “Nope,” he said, buckling his seatbelt again. “ **Nope** , nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope.”

“Problem, Dashie?” Neal teased.

“Nope. Not happening,” Dash replied, shaking his head. “I’m not staying here.”

“Yes, you are,” Crackle responded, getting out of the van.

“To hell with  **this** , Graham!” Dash snarled, “I’m going back to the fishing village with Uncle Yak.”

“Ukiuk,” the man corrected, “And we don’t have indoor plumbing in the village either. We are way too far North for that. Everyone uses outhouses on the island.”

“THEN I’LL WAIT ON THE PLANE!” Dash snarled.

Everyone piled out of the van and Dash remained where he was, arms crossed. Crackle leaned in and gave him a look of exasperation. “Is this going to be a repeat of the motel incident?” he demanded, remembering the hard time Dash had given him in Dallas.

Dash gave him a foul look. “Why? Are you going to threaten to beat me again?”

Crackle let out a sigh. “No, I’m not going to beat you,” he promised, “I’m never going to hurt any of you ever again.”

“I’m  **not** getting out of this van, and I’m going back to the plane,” Dash informed him, “You don’t even need me for this mission anyway.”

“We always stay as a team, Dash Haber,” Crackle told him firmly, “We don’t separate for  **any** reason, because we’re stronger together, and we’re safer together. You’re not going  **anywhere** by yourself.”

“Then I guess the mission is a bust and you’ll have no choice but to return with me,” Dash replied stubbornly.

Crackle was not impressed. It was freezing cold standing outside and he just wanted to get inside to warm up for a while.

“Dash, get out of the bloody van.”

“I’m not staying anywhere that doesn’t have running water,” Dash snarled at him, “It’s ridiculous that you even  **expect** us to! I’m not an animal!”

“Get out of the van!” Crackle ordered, raising his voice.

“Go to  **hell** , Graham!” Dash retorted, looking away.

“You’re getting out of this van one way or another, and it’s up to  **you** how it’s done,” Crackle threatened, “Now stop being childish and help us carry the bags inside.”

Dash remained looking away, and stayed seated, arms crossed stubbornly. 

“Dash, are you really going to make me drag you out of there?” Crackle demanded in exasperation.

Dash’s expression was one of pure stubbornness and Crackle let out a deep and aggravated sigh. “Using an outhouse is  **not** that big of a deal. We had them all over the place in rural Australia,” he said, his tone softening a bit, “You’ll be fine.”

“Rural Australia is another place I never intend on visiting,” Dash retorted. “Do you have  **any** idea how disgusting and unhygienic outhouses are? I’m not stepping within a hundred feet of one.”

“I’m about ready to lock you in it,” Crackle muttered to himself, “I’m  **trying** to be understanding, but you’re just being ridiculous. Please get out of the van.”

Dash met his gaze directly. “No.”

“I’m going to count to three and then you’re being dragged out of there,” Crackle warned him, “I’m cold and I want to go inside and I’m not allowing you to sit out here and freeze. Come inside, have a hot drink and you’ll feel better about things.”

“No.”

Crackle let out another sigh. “We’re contracted by V.I.L.E for this mission. We can’t just quit because of an outhouse!”

“You know what, Graham? I  **quit** , okay? I  **quit** V.I.L.E and I  **quit** this whole damn team.”

Crackle rolled his eyes, knowing Dash was just being dramatic.

“No, you don’t,” Crackle responded with certainty. “Now, do I need to start counting or are you going to stop sulking and come inside?”

Dash slumped down further in his seat and didn’t move.

Crackle sighed heavily. “Fine, Dash, have it your way. You have until the count of three.”

“I’d rather freeze to death sitting out here,” Dash grumbled.

**“One** .”

“You can use the satellite radio to contact one of the head faculty and get me an exemption from this mission. I’m not leaving this van and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. I know very well that you can’t pull me out of here.”

“We’re not contacting V.I.L.E for something that stupid,” Crackle informed him, “ **Two** .”

“You’ll have to drag my cold, dead body out of this van after I freeze to death, because I’m  **not** moving,” Dash snarled, tightly gripping the armrests, “I don’t care how much you  _ ‘count’ _ .”

Crackle was not impressed, and he let out yet another sigh. “ **Three** .” He paused a few moments but it was clear Dash wasn’t going to move.

Crackle then straightened up and turned to Double Trouble who were standing nearby watching. “Get him out of the van,” he ordered.

Theodore and Roosevelt both nodded, and they each approached the van on either side. Roosevelt opened the other door and then both twins reached towards Dash. Dash immediately began fighting with everything he had, and kicked out at Theodore as he swung his fists at Roosevelt. The twins took the blows without batting an eye and tried to get a hold of him without hurting him.

Theodore grabbed Dash by the ankles to stop him from kicking and Roosevelt endured several hard hits to the face as he struggled with Dash to reach the seatbelt. The second he managed to click it unlocked, Theodore gave a hard tug to Dash’s legs and dragged him out of the van as the smaller man screamed bloody murder. Theodore yanked him fully out of the van and then held him upside down by the leg so Dash was suspended about six inches from the ground. 

Dash continued kicking and screaming for a minute or so until it was clear he wasn’t going to break Theodore’s hold. Taking a deep and angry breath, he hung there limply, simply glaring at everyone foully.

“FINE,” he snarled out towards Crackle.

“Okay, you can put him down now, Teddy,” Crackle said, “I think we’ve made our point.”

Theodore carefully flipped Dash over the right way and set him gently on his feet. Dash was rather embarrassed over the whole thing, and simply crossed his arms and looked away, expression thunderous. Ukiuk was staring in disbelief at this whole interaction, not sure what to think. Crackle glanced over at him and must have realized how it looked.

“Oh..don’t mind us,” Crackle assured him with an easy-going smile, “Things like this are common with us.”

Ukiuk still looked a bit uncertain and so Crackle threw an arm around Dash’s shoulders. 

“He’s fine,” he said, “Dash is my...cousin. We just like messing around with each other. Sorry for upsetting you.”

Ukiuk glanced over at Dash who was scowling at nothing in particular. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“He’s my cousin,” Dash confirmed, glaring at Crackle, “One who was dropped on his head a few too many times as a baby.”

Ukiuk glanced between them, and then let out a laugh. “Ah, family,” he commented, “Best friends and best enemies all in one.”

Still chuckling as he closed the hatch of the van, he gave the group a friendly nod. “I’ll be back to pick you up tomorrow afternoon. Do you have any questions for me before I go?”

Crackle shook his head. “No, we should be fine on our own,” he said confidently, “Thank you for taking us this far.”

“No problem at all! I really hope you’re able to get some good photos! If you’re going out today to the mines, keep an eye on the weather. The sky is looking a bit gloomy and if it begins to snow, head back to the lodge immediately. You do  **not** want to get stranded by a storm.”

Crackle gave him a nod. “Thank you.”

They watched as Ukiuk got back in the van and he drove off, waving at them as he left. They watched him go for a moment and Dash crossed his arms, expression still furious. He was severely regretting the bottle of water from earlier and shifted a bit on his feet, glaring in the direction of the outhouse. Neal followed Dash’s line of sight and then grinned at him in pure delight.

“You have to pee!” he cried out with a laugh, “Go on then, Dash, be the first one to check out the communal poop hole.”

“I’m fine,” Dash snapped, grabbing up the cat carrier and storming in the direction of the lodge. “Idiot,” he added as an afterthought.

The others hoisted up their bags and suitcases, and then headed inside, the twins and Moose Boy carrying most of the luggage.

For being such an old cabin, it was surprisingly clean, and even Dash didn’t make any comments about it. He had simply hurried ahead of everyone else so he could claim the best room upstairs. No one else cared and they just grabbed a random room, leaving their bags on the beds they chose.

Dash sat down on his bed and opened the cat carrier to check on the cats. Immediately four cats zoomed out of the carrier and began meowing at him, reminding him they hadn’t been fed yet that day. Dash checked each and every cat to make they looked alright, and then he looked around for his bags. Realizing one was missing he glanced towards his open door.

“Does anyone have my red bag?” he called out.

“I got it!” Moose Boy yelled back from down the hall, “I’ll bring it to you!”

Dash grabbed the little calico before it could leap off the bed and waited as Moose Boy lumbered down the hall towards him. 

“Boy, this bag is really heavy!” Moose Boy commented entering the room, “I think it weighs more than Sven does! What’s in it?”

“That’s Steve’s bag,” Dash responded, getting up to take the bag from him.

Moose Boy’s gaze fell on Steve and the kittens and he immediately smiled dumbly at them.

“Aw, I love this little orange one so much!” he cooed, reaching over to pick it up, “He looks just like his mama!”

“Chanel is a  **girl** !” Dash snapped, “I’ve told you that like twenty times!”

Moose Boy wasn’t listening and lifted the kitten up to his face so he could coo at it. The ten week old kitten immediately began purring and Moose Boy smiled even wider.

“Say, Dash…?”

Dash looked up from where he was setting up the litter box and cat bed. “What?”

“Um...do you think I could have this kitten? He would make a great Christmas present for Sven. He likes this one just as much as I do…”

Dash wrinkled his nose and then scoffed. “I’m not giving away my cats!”

“But you have four of them!” Moose Boy protested, “Please just let me have this one?”

“No.”

Moose Boy frowned in disappointment and gave the kitten a gentle scratch behind the ears and set it down with the others.

“Will you at least think about it?”

“No.”

“Will you think about thinking about it?”

Dash sighed and gave him an annoyed look.

“Okay, I’ll leave now,” Moose Boy said, turning towards the door, “but just think about it, okay?”

Once Moose Boy was gone, Dash picked up Chanel and gently scratched her chin. “Like I’d ever let that doofus near you,” he muttered, “He’d probably end up sitting on you.”

Sheets and blankets were in a closet in the hallway and Otterman went from room to room handing them out to everyone. Crackle had wandered down to the basement to locate the generator and to his annoyance, it wouldn’t work. Seeing a nearby tool cabinet, he grabbed what he needed and then began dismantling the generator to repair it.

“You need any help, wombat?” Neal asked, peering over his shoulder.

“No, I think I know what the issue is,” Crackle answered, “It’s probably just clogged. I should be able to get it up and going in just a few minutes. Could you please make sure everyone is alright up there?”

“Sure thing,” Neal responded, “You want me to make your bed so you don’t get the sheets all greasy?”

“Oh, sure!” Crackle answered, “Thanks, Neal.”

“No problem,” Neal said, hurrying back up the basement stairs.

Neal made up Crackle’s bed for him and then wandered over to see if anyone else needed help. 

The twins were trying to figure out the fitted sheets with no success and so Neal helped them get their beds ready, and then crossed the hall to where Moose Boy and Otterman were relaxing. Their room was in order and Otterman was seated on the bed with his massive box of chocolates on his lap.

“You still have some of those?” Neal asked in surprise.

“I have one layer left,” Otterman responded, “Only a hundred left.”

Neal rolled his eyes at that knowing that to a normal person a hundred chocolates was an obscene amount of chocolates.

“Can I try one?” Neal asked.

“No,” Otterman answered firmly, “These are special ones.”

“Can I try one, Sven?” Moose Boy asked, reaching for the box.

Otterman slapped his hand away and then closed the box. “ _ Nej _ ! They are mine!”

Neal snorted at the hurt expression on Moose Boy’s face. “Oh, Sven, never change.”

Neal left and walked up to the hall to Paper Star’s room. He found her sitting on her bed quietly folding a few stars.

“You alright, love?” Neal asked.

She nodded silently.

“You need any help with anything?”

“I’m fine,” she answered, glancing up at him, “When are we leaving?”

“The generator’s not working and Graham is trying to fix it. We’ll be leaving once he gets the heat on.”

Paper Star nodded and pulled her Life Book out of her jacket pocket. She’d made a lot of entries over the last few months and although Neal was curious about it, he didn’t pry. Paper Star was so much better than she was before and now she laughed and smiled along with everyone else. Her hair had been growing fast and it was already past her ears. She kept it dyed like she had before, but since she couldn’t do her usual style, she had instead spiked her hair using copious amounts of Crackle’s gel.

Roosevelt poked his head into the room and he smiled at Paper Star. “If you get cold, I brought a few extra sweaters,” he offered.

“Paper Star is five foot two, love, she’d drown in one of your sweaters.”

“No, she wouldn’t!” Roosevelt insisted, “My little brother used to borrow my sweaters all the time and he was only five two as well! It went to his knees, but he said it was warmer that way.”

Neal knew how much of a touchy subject Double Trouble’s brother was, but was curious. “He was only five two? At eighteen?!”

Roosevelt nodded. “He was even shorter when we first entered V.I.L.E academy. He was only four ten at the first of the year, but he gained a few inches after Christmas. He was so happy when he was finally over five foot! The doctors had all told him he wouldn’t grow any more.”

Roosevelt was smiling as he remembered this, and he shook his head in amusement. “Since he was then tall enough to drive, he was put into driver’s training by the faculty. The first thing he did was run Coach Brunt over with a car!”

Neal grinned widely. “What?! No way! What happened? I bet she ground him into mincemeat!”

Roosevelt laughed. “Well Coach Brunt was steaming mad, but Del stood there crying so hard that she had simply banned him from driver’s training. He didn’t even get detention over it!”

“Wow, he must have really been a sobbing mess if she let him off! How badly was he hurt?”

“Oh, he wasn’t hurt at all. Del just used to cry really easily, especially if he was in trouble. He used to get away with a  **lot** since most people couldn’t hit someone as tiny and pathetic as him… I really miss him a lot.”

Neal patted Roosevelt on the shoulder. “I’m really sorry, Roose.”

“Thank you for the sweater offer, but I think I’ll be alright,” Paper Star said, offering the giant a smile, “I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”

Roosevelt blushed at her smile and he silently nodded and then quickly ducked out of the room. Neal watched him go and then snickered.

“I think he has a crush on you,” Neal whispered.

Paper Star looked both surprised and skeptical.

“It’s true!” Neal insisted, “Haven’t you noticed how he practically trips over himself to help you? He’s been doing it for months.”

Paper Star snorted.

“Just let him down easy, okay? The big lug doesn’t mean any harm.”

Paper Star rolled her eyes and went back to writing in her Life Book. Neal wandered out of the room and headed to Dash’s room to see what he was doing. Pushing open the door, he peeked inside and saw Dash was laying on his bed petting Steve.

“Whatcha up to, Dashie?”

“Out!” Dash ordered, pointing, “This is a grease-free zone!”

Neal stepped further inside. “You’re grouchier than usual today, I think you might need a nap.”

“I’m stuck in a frozen hellhole, Neal, I think I have the right to be a little grouchy about it.”

“A little?” Neal repeated, “You made the twins drag you out of the van! You’ve been bitchy since we left San Diego!”

Dash flushed and didn’t answer, instead focusing on patting Steve. 

“Graham is trying to get the generator going and then we’re going to head out. We have about eight hours of sunlight left.”

“I don’t mean to be a bitch,” Dash quietly admitted, “I just don’t like being out of my comfort zone... I’m not used to it. I’ve lived in luxury for more than half of my life now, and this new life has been...an adjustment.”

Neal wasn’t expecting this and his eyes widened. “Everyone has bad days,” he assured him, “You just have a few more than the average person…”

Dash said nothing and glanced towards the window. “Are you sure we have eight hours? It’s looking a bit gloomy out.”

Neal crossed the room and looked out the window. The sun was behind several clouds and more clouds could be seen moving in from the distance.

“I think it’s just cloudy today,” Neal responded.

There was suddenly a loud grinding noise from downstairs and then the sound of a motor filled the lodge.

“Sounds like Graham got the generator going!” Neal exclaimed.

Dash was wincing at the horrible noise, but a few moments later it was muffled and then it disappeared completely.

“I’m gonna check on Graham,” Neal commented, hurrying from the room.

When he got downstairs, he found Crackle turning on the gas fireplace. It lit with no issue and Crackle grinned triumphantly.

“There!” he announced when he saw Neal, “The lodge will warm up while we’re gone!”

“Uhhhh, think it’s wise to leave a fire going while we’re gone?” Neal responded, glancing around at all the flammable furniture in the room.

“Sven is going to stay behind,” Crackle explained, “It’s too dangerous for him to go with us. He doesn’t see very well and if he accidentally touches something he shouldn’t in the mine, it could cause a cave-in. He can make sure the generator stays on, and that the fireplace remains safe.”

Neal nodded, knowing leaving someone behind made the most sense. “Henrik is not going to like that,” he pointed out.

“We’ll need his muscle in case we need to move anything heavy, so he’ll just have to deal with it,” Crackle answered, “I’m just going to make sure the smoke detectors are working and then we’ll get going.”

Roosevelt was coming downstairs and Crackle turned to look up at him. “Perfect timing, Roose, I need your help with something!”

Roosevelt nodded and approached. “What do you need me to do?”

“Are you tall enough to reach the smoke detectors on the ceiling?” Crackle asked, pointing to one.

Roosevelt glanced up and then reached up and easily plucked it from the ceiling.

“Excellent,” Crackle commented, taking it from him so he could test it.

It was in working order and so he handed it back and Roosevelt put it back where he’d found it. He then followed Crackle from room to room as they checked each and every smoke detector. Once he was certain it was safe, Crackle grabbed a bottle of water and then approached the kitchen to scrub off the oil that covered his hands. Once he was done, he approached the stairs and glanced up.

“Okay, team,” Crackle called up loudly, “Are we ready to go?”

Everyone began trudging their way downstairs, and Crackle began getting bundled up, knowing it was going to be brutally cold outside. 

“Sven, you’re staying here to make sure the lodge doesn’t burn down,” Crackle ordered, “Stay near the fireplace just in case.”

Otterman nodded, having every intention of going back to sleep the moment everyone was gone. Napping next to the warm fireplace sounded wonderful and he had no protests at all. Everyone else could go freeze their asses off while he stayed warm and comfortable. Moose Boy was instantly frowning worriedly, and so Crackle clapped him on the shoulder.

“He’ll be a lot safer here,” Crackle pointed out, “It will be dangerous in the mines.”

Moose Boy could see the logic in that, but he didn’t like the idea of Otterman being left by himself.

“I’ll stay with him!”

Crackle shook his head. “No, I need you to come with us. We have no idea what to expect in the mines and I’ll need all the muscle I can get.”

“But-”

“I’ll be fine, Henrik,” Otterman assured him, “There’s nothing that can happen to me here. I’ll be warm and safe.”

Moose Boy frowned.

“When you get back, I’ll have some hot cocoa ready for you,” Otterman assured him, “Just promise me you’ll be safe.” Otterman raised a hand to touch the ring on his necklace and Moose Boy smiled at him.

“I’ll come back to you soon,” Moose Boy assured him, leaning down to give him a quick kiss, “Don’t leave the house while I’m gone.”

Otterman rolled his eyes. “Oh, yes, Henrik, I was planning on going out and rolling in the snow in -30c weather.”

“No, don’t!” Moose Boy said, his tone panicked.

“Henrik, I was joking... I have no intention of leaving this cabin at  **all** unless I have to.”

Moose Boy still looked unsure, but he still gave him a nod all the same.

Everyone else began putting on hats and gloves, no one looking forward to the walk to the mines.

“Alright, is everyone ready?” Crackle demanded, looking his team over.

“I think Dash has to pee first.” Neal informed him.

“Drop dead, Neal!” Dash muttered as he fastened his boots.

“Hurry up,” Crackle urged, “We need to make it up the mountain and back before dark. That only gives us eight hours. Where’s Teddy? TEDDY?”

“Coming!” Theodore called, thumping his way loudly downstairs.

Just a few minutes later, everyone was finally assembled and ready to go. Crackle had a backpack on with all the tools they’d need to safely extract the artifact, and he added an additional scarf around his neck. Crackle then inspected each and every person up and down to make sure they looked properly prepared. He added a thick and warm scarf to Paper Star, knowing the thin girl would feel the cold a lot more than the men.

They were now ready to go.

“Dash, if you really do need to pee, this is your last chance before we go,” Crackle said, “It will be too cold to go during the walk.”

Dash glared at him, hating the fact he had such a small bladder. “I’m  **fine** ,” he said sharply, “Let’s just leave already.”

“Okay, let’s get going,” Crackle instructed with a dismissive shrug, “We need to make good time getting up the mountain, and it’ll be an hour hike if the snow isn’t too deep.”

“Be careful,” Otterman instructed them as they headed for the door.

“We’ll be back before you know it, Svenny,” Neal responded with a grin.

“If we’re not back by six, feed the cats two cans of wet food,” Dash ordered.

Otterman watched them leave, and the second the door closed, he headed for the hall closet and pulled out a thick and warm blanket. He then approached the fireplace and crawled up on the couch facing it. It was warm and cosy and he immediately curled up, fully intending on sleeping for a few more hours.

As soon as the rest of Team Crackle stepped outside, they put on their snowshoes and glanced toward the mountain ahead. The mountains were massive and it would be incredibly easy to get lost if they weren't paying attention. Knowing this wasn’t going to be a fun hike, everyone followed along behind Crackle, hoping that they could complete this mission as fast as possible.

There were bright red markers to lead the way up the mountain, and as they ascended, the air became colder and colder. Luckily the walking wasn’t too difficult as long as they stuck to the path, and Neal was talking about anything and everything that popped into his mind, successfully keeping their minds off the cold. The whole team was used to Neal’s chatter after seven months of living with him, and none were annoyed by his constant chatter, most just tuning him out.

Neal was still munching on the massive bag of candy, and after a time he wasn’t able to bite any of it anymore, the candy frozen solid. Popping a piece into his mouth to suck on instead, he shoved the bag away into his pocket, and noticed Dash frowning at him.

“What?” Neal demanded. 

“Nothing,” Dash responded with a shrug. “I’m still in awe that somehow you’re not fat  **or** diabetic.”

“I dunno if I can even get fat,” Neal answered thoughtfully, “I have a pretty high metabolism.”

“It’s weird and gross,” Dash responded snottily. 

“Dash, stop trying to start a fight,” Crackle scolded, “Neal’s diet is none of your concern.”

“He ate 23 pieces of bacon at breakfast this morning,” Dash responded, “And then pancakes with an obscene amount of butter and syrup. Have you ever seen him eat any sort of vegetable, because I certainly haven’t. It’s  **weird** .” 

“No, what I find weird is the fact you were counting everything I ate,” Neal responded in amusement.

“I’m amazed Dr. Vess has never been after you about improving your diet,” Dash said thoughtfully, “He always orders blood tests at my yearly physical, and asks me in detail about what I eat.”

“Sweetheart, that’s because he thinks you’re either bulimic or anorexic,” Neal answered, “You eat like half a lettuce leaf once every full moon.”

Dash scoffed and rolled his eyes at that. “I carefully figured out all nutritional needs based on my height, weight and age,” Dash responded in an offended tone, “Just because I choose to eat healthy, doesn’t mean I have a disorder.”

“Okay, then I dare you to eat a piece of this candy,” Neal said, holding the bag out towards him, “You ate a pile of green mush for breakfast and you have to be starving by now.”

“It’s called spinach, dumbass.”

Neal shook the bag of candy towards him. "Pick a kind, any kind. Prove that you’re not anorexic.”

“I’m not eating candy from that dirty little fish shop,” Dash answered, “Who knows who had their hands in those jars. They’re probably crawling with bacteria.”

“Okay fine,” Neal responded, digging into his parka pocket. He then held out an unopened Snickers bar. “Eat this chocolate bar.”

“What? No...and why do you have so much candy in your pockets?”

“Why not?” Neal challenged, “Worried about the calories?”

Dash let out an aggravated sigh and snatched the chocolate bar out of his hand. Without a word, he opened it and took a bite, refusing to admit that he’d actually been hungry for the last two hours. Dash normally avoided all junkfood, but his one weakness was chocolate and peanuts, and it was one of the few indulgences that he allowed himself. 

When he was finished with the Snickers bar, he tossed the wrapper back at Neal without a word. Neal watched as the wrapper fluttered off in the wind, and he smirked.

“Littering in a protected area, Dash? For shame, that’s like a $1000 fine in Canada.”

“Then go back and pick it up if you’re that worried.”

“Are you two going to argue this whole mission?” Crackle demanded, glaring back at them.

Neal and Dash exchanged a look and then they shrugged. 

“Probably,” Neal admitted, “It’s what we do.”

Crackle was used to the constant bickering, but he wanted them to pay attention to their surroundings and not get distracted. “Right,” he answered, “Dash, go to the front of the group, and Neal, you stay in the back. We can’t afford to get distracted.”

Dash rolled his eyes, but obediently passed by him to go to the front of the group. It got colder and windier as they climbed higher and higher, and the bitterness began to make everyone except for Neal shiver.

“Everyone, put on your goggles,” Crackles called to the group, “We need to protect our eyes before it gets any colder.”

Everyone pulled their goggles out of their coat pockets, and put them on, their eyes immediately feeling much better now that they were protected from the wind. Paper Star moved to walk between the twins and she was shivering hard, and Crackle frowned at her, clearly worried. Stepping in front of her to block her from the worst of the wind, they pushed on, knowing they were getting close to the mines. No one spoke a word as they walked, the bitterness getting worse and worse and causing them to lose their breath and feel weary. After what seemed an eternity later, they saw a group of red markers surrounding a large snowbank.

Crackle approached, glanced at his map and then gave them a nod. Pulling out two collapsible shovels, Crackle handed them to the twins who began knocking snow away from the hill, revealing a slanted entrance to the mines. 

The mine’s entrance was small, only about four feet wide, and the rotting beams were sagging dangerously, looking like they could collapse at any moment.

“Um...this doesn’t seem very safe,” Roosevelt pointed out, poking at one of the rotting support beams, “What if it collapses and buries us alive?”

Crackle approached and peered inside the mine. The ground slanted downwards far out of sight, and distant wind could be heard howling from down in the darkness. No matter how Crackle held the light, they couldn’t see where it went. The mine looked exactly like something out of a horror movie, and Crackle hesitated.

“Erm…” Crackle stated, staring down into the darkness, “It probably widens at the bottom of the incline...We’ll be fine.”

The others moved to stand beside him, removing their goggles and staring down into the eerie mineshaft with frowns.

“Any of you guys ever play that game Until Dawn?” Neal asked, “Because I’m getting cannibal monster vibes from that hole.”

“Thanks, Neal, that’s  **exactly** what I wanted to think about right now,” Crackle snapped, pulling out his flashlight, “I hated that damn game. Let’s get inside before we freeze to death. Just be careful not to touch any of the supports.”

“After you, fearless leader,” Neal said, waving a hand towards the hole, “Just watch out for wendigos.”

Crackle removed his snowshoes and then crouched down and then ducked into the mine, shining the light as far down as it would go. Still unable to see when the incline stopped, he began crouch-walking his way down. The rest of the team pulled out their own flashlights and began following, the twins having to crawl on their hands and knees to avoid hitting their heads on the low ceiling.

It was warmer inside the mine now that they were out of the bitter wind and it was a relief to everyone. The incline went down about 50 feet and then the mineshaft opened into a larger area that they could stand up in. The twins tried to stand up at well and Roosevelt hit his head on the roof, eliciting a loud yelp from the huge man.

There was immediately a rumbling from above and everyone froze with wide eyes. The noise stopped, and they all let out a collective breath of relief.

“Everyone keep your voices at a whisper,” Crackle ordered quietly, “If this mine collapses, we’d probably never be rescued.”

He received six silent nods. Crackle shone the flashlight around the area and saw two possible paths they could take. Pulling out his map, he studied the mine for a moment, and then pointed to the left. They walked as silently as possible, terrified that the slightest movement would cause the roof to come crashing down on them. Their steps barely made a sound as they tiptoed along, and luckily there were no more rumbles from above.

The mine was obviously incredibly old, and Crackle wondered how anyone had even discovered the artifact. It didn’t look like anyone had been recently digging in that area, and it was all rather strange. Had a miner been exploring and discovered it by chance?

Keeping a close eye on the map, he came to the marked spot and then glanced around looking for the artifact. He saw it deep within the stone of the nearby wall and approached it, shining the flashlight on it to get a better look.

The star was carved out of either white stone or bone and it was truly beautiful to look at. It was about the size of a dinnerplate and every inch of it was carved in elaborate patterns. Crackle ran his fingers over its surface, looking at the designs, seeing that they did indeed look like constellations.

“It will be extremely brittle because of the cold,” he whispered, “We’ll have to heat the stone around it before we can chisel it out.”

Crackle removed his backpack and set it on the ground so he could dig inside it. He pulled out a small battery-operated heater and glanced around for a place to set it. There were two long nails above the artifact for a torch, and so he hooked a piece of the plastic on one of the nails so the heater would aim straight for the artifact. Turning it on, he stepped back and waited to make sure the heater wouldn’t fall, and when it stayed in place, he gave a nod.

“Now we just have to wait for the stone to heat a bit,” he whispered, “Everyone get settled because we’re in for a wait.”

Everyone huddled close to the heater miserably, and they really hoped this wouldn’t take too long. They had no idea that it had begun to snow outside.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

A black van was waiting for them when Team Red exited their plane and Carmen glanced over at the other plane across the airstrip.

“That’s a V.I.L.E plane all right,” she whispered, “Team Crackle are definitely here.”

They had no signal for their coms and so they lost contact with Player an hour or so before. Team Red was bundled up in complete winter gear, and as they descended the air-stairs, the driver of the van got out to help them with their bags.

“We were surprised by your last minute reservation!” he exclaimed, “My name is Ukiuk Umiaktorvik, and I’ll be your driver and guide today.”

Carmen offered him a smile. “Ukiuk Umiaktorvik? Your name means Winter River, correct?”

He gave her a shocked look. “You speak Inuktitut?!” 

“A little bit,” Carmen replied, “One of my nannies was Inuit.”

He smiled at her brightly. “Are you part of the research team that landed a few hours ago? I only just got back to town twenty minutes ago.”

Carmen gave him a nod. “It was decided that additional help was needed because of the scope of this discovery. We need to join our co-researchers as soon as possible. Can you take us to them?”

“Of course,” Ukiuk replied, “But we’ll have to leave in the morning because I won’t have time to take you there and back before dark.”

“We need to go as soon as possible,” Carmen told him, “Our work is incredibly urgent.”

Ukiuk shook his head. “It is too dangerous to drive in the dark in this region. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wait for the morning.”

Carmen exchanged a look with her team and then turned back to Ukiuk. “Can you mark where they are on a map and we’ll take the van ourselves? We’re hours behind them and need to make up for lost time.”

“It’s dangerous for tourists to drive in this terrain,” Ukiuk replied, “Everything looks the same and it’s easy to get turned around. You could end up driving across a lake and falling through.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Carmen said, tossing an arm around Zack’s shoulders, “We hired a professional driver to take us there. He has experience driving across this type of terrain.”

Ukiuk stared at Zack for a moment, skeptical about Zack’s young age, but he had no reason to doubt her words. He seemed to consider it for a few moments and then he gave a shrug.

“Very well, but it’s going to be extremely crowded if you’re driving your co-workers back to town as well. I don’t know how you’re planning on fitting eighteen people in a van made for ten, but if this is what you want then I can’t stop you.”

Ukiuk gazed around at the large team in front of him, his gaze settling on Mime Bomb who had every part of his face covered except for his eyes. Ukiuk stared at the black paint that surrounded the eyes, but didn’t ask about it.

“I'll drive you to town and then show you on the map how to get to the lodge where your co-workers are staying.”

“That sounds great,” Carmen told him, “Thank you, Ukiuk.”

Ukiuk helped them load their bags into the back of the van, and Tigress scowled around at all the snow, but didn’t say anything. El Topo threw an arm around her shoulders and gave her a smile and she simply rolled her eyes at him.

“It’ll be fun,” El Topo assured her, “Just wait and see! This is our first Christmas all together!”

She still said nothing, and he gave her a light nudge. Finally she offered him a small smile, and El Topo seemed satisfied and returned the smile.

A few minutes later, they were all loaded into the van and on their way to Qilalugaq Bay. They only stayed in the town for a few minutes, long enough for Ukiuk to mark a map for them and give them several warnings about the weather and about the landscape. Zack then drove them down the snowy road, hoping they’d be able to catch up to Team Crackle before they either got away or damaged the valuable Northern Star.

The air felt very still as they drove along, and Carmen didn’t like the look of the darkening sky overhead. Hoping it wasn’t going to storm, she kept her eyes on the road nervously. It began to lightly snow just a few minutes later, and the sky got darker and darker. Luck was on their side however, and three hours later, they pulled the van up to the lodge just as the snow began coming down hard.

Carmen glanced around the lodge, her eyes falling on the footprints leading away from the lodge but none returning. As she stared, the heavy snowfall quickly covered the tracks, and she knew they had to get inside.

“Okay, guys, it looks like Team Crackle didn’t waste any time going after the star. They’re likely already in the mine by now.”

Shadowsan stared at the footprints and then glanced up at the sky. “It would be wisest to wait for them to return to the lodge,” he stated, “This storm is getting bad, and it would be the safest option for us. They have no other shelter and they’ll be forced to return before night-fall.”

Zack frowned. “Wait...does that mean we have to let them stay in the lodge with us?” he asked.

Carmen smirked. “Well, maybe not right away...” she said in amusement. “If they spend a few hours freezing on the stoop, it would serve them right. I imagine they’ll be a little more cooperative after that.”

Ivy snickered. “Sometimes you’re diabolical, Carm. I love it.”

Carmen simply smiled and then glanced towards the cabin. “Alright, let’s get our things inside and get settled before Team Crackle gets back.”

The door was unlocked and when they entered the lodge they let out a breath of relief at the heat. The lodge was toasty warm, and they quickly closed the door after them to keep the heat in. 

“We should search the lodge for any weapons,” Chase suggested, glancing around suspiciously, “Who knows what diabolical things these criminals have!”

Carmen gave a nod, “Alright team, let’s do a quick search of the lodge and look for anything dangerous. Put your bags in any of the spare rooms.”

Most of the team scattered to do as they were told

“I’m going to go see if there’s food in the kitchen,” Zack announced, heading for where he assumed the kitchen to be.

Shadowsan gave a slow glance around, his gaze falling on the lit fireplace. “Irresponsible,” he commented, “They left an open fire unattended! The whole lodge could have been burnt to the ground!”

Carmen looked to the fire and nodded in agreement. “Mime Bomb, could you go make sure that fire is alright?”

Mime Bomb nodded as he removed his coat, and then crossed the living room towards the fire. It was a gas fire, not a wood fire as first suspected, and when he glanced at it, everything seemed perfectly fine. Turning the flames down a little bit, he turned around, and his gaze fell on the couch beside him. He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of Otterman laying there curled up with a blanket fast asleep, and he jumped back, almost stumbling into the fireplace. Otterman didn’t move however, and Mime Bomb stared at him and then waved his arms to get Carmen’s attention.

“What is it?” Carmen asked in confusion.

Mime Bomb pointed with both hands towards the couch and then held a hand to his lips to shush her. Frowning, Carmen approached with Shadowsan at her heels. When they saw Otterman, Carmen exchanged a look with Shadowsan who nodded and then made a clubbing motion with one of his hands. Carmen shook her head, not wanting to hurt anyone if she could help it and instead motioned for Shadowsan to help grab him. Shadowsan rolled his eyes and then nodded.

The second they grabbed Otterman and yanked him up, he let out a screech of surprise and immediately began struggling. His arms were instantly pinned to his side by Shadowsan, and Carmen caught him by the legs before he could begin kicking.

“Calm down,” Carmen ordered, “We’re not going to hurt you!”

Otterman didn’t have his glasses on and so all he saw were smeared colours all around him. “Who are you?!” he cried out, “I don’t have anything valuable!”

“...what?” Carmen asked in confusion.

“He doesn’t see very well,” Shadowsan explained, reaching for Otterman’s glasses on the side table.

Unfolding them, he shoved them onto Otterman’s face whose gaze immediately settled on his captors.

“...oh,” he commented slowly, “This...is  **not** ideal.”

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Carmen assured him again.

“Unless you give us a hard time,” Shadowsan added, narrowing his eyes.

Otterman swallowed heavily and then glanced over at Mime Bomb who was frowning at him in an attempt to look threatening. Otterman hadn’t met most of Team Red before, and wasn’t quite sure whether to be nervous or not. They stared at one another for a few moments before Otterman averted his gaze back to Carmen.

“What did you do with the rest of my team?” Otterman demanded in obvious worry, “Where’s Henrik?”

“We did nothing at all,” Carmen replied, “I assume they’re still at the mines.”

“Still?!” Otterman asked, his gaze going to the window, “It’s dark out!”

“It’s snowing,” Carmen explained, “They’re probably just taking things slowly.”

Otterman nodded, but his expression was still worried as he stared towards the window.

“Can you...let my arms go?” Otterman requested, “You’re hurting me.”

Carmen raised a brow. “Are you going to give us a hard time?”

Otterman knew he didn’t stand a chance against all of Team Red by himself, and so he immediately shook his head.

“You are our prisoner and if you try  **anything** , I will have no choice but to tie you up,” Shadowsan warned him, releasing his arms.

Otterman rubbed at his arms for a moment and gave Shadowsan an uncertain look. He had no doubt Team Crackle would negotiate to get him back, but they would probably not let him forget this for a really long time. Neal would probably call him a damsel in distress or some other such nonsense.

When Otterman didn’t try to fight like Carmen had been expecting, she hesitantly released his legs and then stood over him, arms crossed.

“Now...what should we do with you?” she mused.

“Nothing at all?” Otterman suggested.

“We should at least bind his legs,” Shadowsan stated, glowering down at him.

Carmen frowned thoughtfully. “Hmm, I don’t really think there’s a need,” she replied, “Where’s he going to go? Out onto the frozen tundra?”

“I won’t try to run,” Otterman assured her, knowing it was stupid to even try.

Carmen cocked a brow at him. “Why were you left behind?” she asked.

Otterman flushed and said nothing.

“Answer her question,” Shadowsan ordered firmly.

Otterman looked up at Carmen and pointed to his eyes. “I’m almost blind and they didn’t think it would be safe for me in the mines. They left me behind to keep the lodge warm for them…”

Otterman wasn’t stupid and he knew exactly what Team Red were there for. He knew this mission was likely going to be a bust because they were outnumbered

Carmen nodded and glanced at his eyes, wondering why V.I.L.E kept a blind operative. “What’s wrong with your eyes?” she asked.

“He was in an accident on a mission about ten years ago,” Shadowsan explained, “He nearly lost his vision completely, but Vess was able to save some of his sight. The head faculty likely would have erased his mind, but I think they keep forgetting about him.”

Otterman flushed even redder. He knew he was a terrible operative but it was still embarrassing to hear it said out loud.

“Heya, Carm!” Ivy yelled, thumping down the stairs, “There’s kittens in one of these rooms!”

Ivy burst into the room holding the little tuxedo kitten and Otterman was to his feet in an instant.

“Don’t hurt the kittens!” he cried out.

“Whoa, where did  **you** come from?!” Ivy demanded, her sneakers screeching as she came to a halt.

Shadowsan gave Otterman a firm shove in the chest forcing him to sit, but Otterman’s gaze was on Ivy.

“Please don’t hurt Dash’s kittens! He loves those cats and it’ll destroy him!  **Please** !”

“I’m not going to hurt a kitten!” Ivy said in an offended tone, “Geez, man, we’re the good guys!”

“Dash Haber brought cats with him on a mission?” Carmen asked in surprise.

Otterman nodded. “He really loves those cats and he didn’t want to leave them behind over Christmas.”

Carmen thought of the rude and snotty Dash, unable to picture him showing affection to anything. She’d never take away someone’s pet and glanced at the feisty kitten in Ivy’s arms.

“Can I see, Ivy?” she asked.

“Sure, Carm! There’s three kittens and a really mean cat that tried to claw my face off. I had to lock it in the closet!”

“You locked Steve in a closet?!” Otterman cried out in distress, “Let her out! She was just trying to protect her kittens!”

“Dash named a female cat, Steve?” Ivy asked with a snort, “I would have expected a much fancier name than ** that** !”

“Graham named her, actually,” Otterman answered, watching as Ivy passed Carmen the kitten.

“Aw, look at how cute it is!” Carmen cooed, patting the kitten’s head, “Mime Bomb, look at the kitten!”

Mime Bomb wasn’t expecting the kitten to be suddenly shoved into his arms and he glanced down at it, not quite sure how to react. The kitten stared up at him with large yellow eyes as it purred loudly and he hesitantly wrapped his arms around it. Sharp little claws poked into his sweater and he frowned down at it, not even remembering the last time he’d touched a kitten. Removing one of his gloves, he touched its soft black and white fur, noting that they matched colourwise.

“What’s this one’s name?” Ivy demanded.

Otterman leaned over so he could see it and then replied “That one is Gucci,” he replied.

Ivy immediately rolled her eyes. “Yep, this is definitely Dash’s cat.”

Ivy watched Mime Bomb pat the kitten for a few moments and then she glanced back to Otterman. “So, what’s this doofus doing here?” she demanded, “Is he our prisoner now?”

Otterman frowned at being called a doofus, but he had a feeling Ivy was still thinking about when he’d mistaken her for Carmen back in Sweden.

“Team Crackle left him behind to watch the lodge,” Carmen replied, “They should be back soon.”

Ivy cracked her knuckles. “So, what are we gonna do with this geek in the meantime?” she asked, “We gonna teach him a lesson?”

Otterman immediately raised his hands to protect his face, and Carmen shook her head.

“No, we’re not going to hurt him. As long as he complies, we won’t tie him up or harm him.”

“Aw, you’re no fun,” Ivy teased, taking a seat beside Otterman on the couch, “Oh, this fire feels great!”

“Can you please go let Steve out of the closet?” Otterman asked, “She’s still nursing the kittens.”

“Yeah, yeah, in a minute,” Ivy said, holding her hands close to the flames.

“There are kittens in one of the bedrooms!” El Topo exclaimed, entering the room with the other two kittens, “There was also a very angry orange cat in the closet that bit me…”

“Feral cat,” Le Chèvre commented, following behind his partner.

They both stopped short at the sight of Otterman and then looked to Carmen who shrugged.

“It looks like the lodge wasn’t as unoccupied as we originally thought,” she informed them, “Otterman has agreed to cooperate with us fully.”

Le Chèvre narrowed his eyes. “I say we toss him out.”

El Topo shook his head. “We can’t murder him, Jean Paul! He’d freeze to death!”

Le Chèvre crossed his arms. “No less than his team have tried to do to  **us** countless times. Just how many times have they or V.I.L.E tried to kill us?”

“It doesn’t matter,” El Topo responded, “We’re the good guys and we have to move past things like that.”

“Non,” Le Chèvre responded stubbornly, “I owe them no such courtesy.”

“ _ Te amo, pero a veces eres muy frustrato _ …” El Topo muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “Jean Paul, he’s no different than we were-”

“Speak for yourself,” Le Chèvre commented, glaring at Otterman.

Otterman turned an alarmed look to Carmen who didn’t seem overly concerned. Le Chèvre was threatening to kill him, and everyone was acting like this was a completely reasonable thing to discuss! Carmen saw his look of distress and she took a seat next to him, clapping him on the back.

“No one’s going to hurt you,” she assured him, “Jean Paul is all bark.”

Le Chèvre scoffed, but he didn’t say anything more.

“Your name is Sven, right?” El Topo asked in a friendly tone of voice.

Otterman nodded.

“I don’t believe we ever met during our time at V.I.L.E,” El Topo commented thoughtfully, “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Otterman relaxed at El Topo’s gentle tone and he shook his head. “No, I’m fine.”

“Are these kittens yours?” El Topo asked, approaching the couch.

“No, they’re all Dash’s, but the little orange one is my favourite.”

El Topo passed him the orange kitten, and Otterman held it close, already feeling a bit better.

“What’s the orange one’s name?” Ivy demanded.

“Chanel.”

Ivy snorted. “How pretentious can you get?” she teased, “What about that weird multi-colour one?”

“That one is Hermes,” Otterman responded, running his fingers through Chanel’s fur gently, “the only boy out of the cats.”

“Oh!” Carmen exclaimed, “A male Calico cat is extremely rare! I remember reading about that when I was a kid!”

“Yeah, Dash is extremely proud of him,” Otterman told her.

“We have searched all rooms and removed anything dangerous!” Chase exclaimed loudly as he entered the room, “Most of the weapons were in Paper Star’s room.”

When Chase saw Otterman, he immediately stanced his body as if he was going to attack.

“OTTER BOY!” he bellowed out.

“Erm, it’s OtterMAN, actually…” Otterman responded.

Julia glanced at Otterman and then around the room at everyone else. No one seemed concerned with Otterman’s presence and so she placed a gentle hand on Chase’s arm to calm him down.

“Hello,” she greeted the villain.

“Hello,” Otterman responded, “It appears that I’m your team’s prisoner…”

“Why is there no bathroom here?!” Tigress bellowed out, “I’ve been all over this damn lodge and I can’t find it!”

She stormed into the room and barely glanced at Otterman. “Where’s the bathroom, Otterdork?”

“Uh...there isn’t one…” he answered hesitantly.

“EX-cuse me?” she snapped turning to face him so fast, he flinched back.

“We’re too far up North for bathrooms...there’s an outhouse behind the lodge…”

“Ugh!” Tigress complained, “I  **really** hate this mission!”

She stormed back out of the room, presumably to look for the outhouse.

“Well, it seems Sheena took you being here in stride…” Carmen commented in amusement.

Otterman glanced towards the door where she'd left, feeling rather nervous over this entire situation. He was incredibly outnumbered right now, and he knew there was nothing he could do. He remembered the abuses Neal and Dash had gone through as Team Red's prisoners and was worried about Moose Boy. If Team Red harmed him in any way, he knew Moose Boy would go ballistic and would likely get himself hurt. Taking a deep breath, Otterman tried to calm himself down, knowing he couldn't act like a threat. He would remain docile and hope his team came back soon.

He tuned out Carmen for a few minutes as she spoke with Shadowsan and he flinched when his arm was suddenly touched. Ivy held up her hands in a surrendering motion and took a step back from him.

"Geez, dude, relax. We're not going to hurt you."

Otterman said nothing.

“Hey guys, there’s only canned food here!” Zack called from the other room, “Should I open a few cans of soup?”

“You hungry?” Carmen asked, giving Otterman a smile.

Otterman hadn't eaten all day and he hesitantly gave a nod, hugging the kitten even closer. Holding the small purring creature helped him feel a lot calmer about the situation, and he found himself starting to relax. Team Red weren’t going to hurt him. He’d be fine. Team Crackle would come back, and they would rescue him.

“Sure, Zack!” Carmen called back, “Put on enough for eleven people!”

“Eleven?” Zack questioned.

“Yeah, bro, Otterdork is here! He’s our prisoner and we gotta feed him too!”

Zack poked his head in the room, glanced at Otterman but didn’t look concerned. “You like vegetable or chicken noodle?”

“...chicken noodle,” Otterman responded awkwardly.

“Sheena, you want soup too? There’s also beans and a few other things in here...oh, she’s not here.”

“She went out to the outhouse,” Carmen responded, “Put on vegetable soup for her.”

“Righto!” Zack said, disappearing back into the kitchen.

“She’s taking quite a long time…” Carmen observed, “I hope everything’s alright…”

“We were told the latch on the outhouse sticks, and so she might have gotten stuck in there,” Otterman said quietly, “I forgot to mention that…”

El Topo’s eyes widened and he immediately passed Le Chèvre the calico kitten and hurried from the room.

“I’m keeping my eye on you, OtterMAN!” Chase grumbled, approaching to take a seat on one of the other couches, “You’d better not try anything!”

Otterman patted Chanel and didn’t answer.

“I saw some board games in one of the hall closets,” Ivy informed them, “Who wants to play a few games to kill the time?”

No one answered her.

“Great! I’ll go grab a few!” she announced, getting up to hurry from the room.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Siren was seated on Vess’ couch with Michael beside him as Vess made supper in the kitchen. Siren hated the fact he had to stay with Vess for the next several days, but he had no choice in the matter. Vess didn’t trust anyone else to watch him besides Terry, and Vess refused to leave Siren unattended after the incident of him leaving the lab. 

Siren had been given Michael’s bedroom for the holidays and it barely looked lived in. Siren suspected Michael never slept there and spent most of his time in Vess’ room instead. This didn’t stop Michael from pitching a fit about it, but Vess had been unrelenting. The first night Siren woke up to Michael dumping a cold glass of water on his head at three in the morning. Michael hadn’t said a single word and he’d simply turned around and left the room.

Finding a moment of privacy was almost impossible with Vess and Michael both hovering nearby at all times, but Siren had managed to sneak a few peeks into Team Red’s mission.

Siren had kept a close eye on Team Red and Team Crackle’s plane and he saw both had landed successfully. He had no way to keep in touch with them and so he had no choice but to hope they didn’t somehow die in the frozen wastelands of Canada. He sent Player a message to let him know it would be difficult to reach him for a few days and then he closed his laptop.

Siren glanced over at Michael beside him, who had a notepad open and was furiously writing something. Siren had never seen him this quiet or this focused in the five years he’d known him.

“What are you doing?” Siren asked.

“Planning,” Michael answered distractedly.

Siren was instantly feeling nosy and he edged over so he could take a look. “Planning what?” he demanded.

Michael shot him a glare and then sighed in resignation.

“The perfect Christmas,” Michael answered, turning the notepad so Siren could see.

Siren saw that Michael hadn’t been writing, he’d been sketching, and he’d drawn Vess’ living room and was adding various decorations to see what they looked like. Siren was once again impressed by how well Michael could draw.

“Oh, that’s actually pretty good,” Siren commented, looking at the fancy Christmas tree Michael had been working on.

“I did the kitchen too,” Michael informed him, flipping the page.

To Siren’s amusement, the picture looked like a Norman Rockwell sketch of the perfect Christmas dinner. The kitchen was sketched to be fully decorated with garland and bells and Michael had even drawn himself and Vess enjoying Christmas dinner. The sketch was eerie in how life-like it was and Siren found himself staring at the smiling Vess. To see such a happy and carefree expression on Vess’ face was unnerving, and Siren quickly looked away.

“What about me?” Siren teased, “I’m going to be here for Christmas too.”

“Oh, right,” Michael said, picking up his pencil, “Just a sec.”

Siren watched as Michael spent about five minutes sketching and then he turned the notepad back around.

“There,” he said, “You’ve been added.”

Siren saw he wasn’t at the table and glanced around the sketch until his eyes fell on a bloody corpse shoved inside the oven, just one arm hanging out.

“A perfect Christmas!” Michael announced.

Siren rolled his eyes.

Michael then frowned a bit uncertainly. “...well, I  **hope** it’s the perfect Christmas…”

Siren knew how much all of this was going to annoy Vess and so he was eagerly looking forward to it.

“Don’t forget eggnog and sugar cookies.”

“Oh!” Michael exclaimed in surprise, “Right!”

“Supper’s ready,” Vess called from the kitchen, “Siren I better not hear a damn word about the food!”

“Ugh,” Siren complained.

Michael set his notepad aside and got up. “Smells good, what is it?”

“Maraq,” Vess replied, “I just wanted to make a light supper for us tonight.”

Michael plunked himself down at the kitchen table and glanced at the bowl of stew. As Michael began wolfing it down, Vess glanced to Siren who was still sprawled on the couch.

“I won’t tell you again, Siren. You’re not skipping meals under my watch. Get your ass to this table and eat something.”

Siren groaned but did slowly get up and shuffle his way into the kitchen. Taking a seat across from Vess, he stared into his bowl of stew and immediately wrinkled his nose.

“Say anything rude and I’m slapping you,” Vess warned him, “I won’t have a repeat of last night.”

Siren scowled and bit back the comment he’d been about to make. Vess was actually an incredibly talented cook, but Siren refused to give him a single compliment. The night before, Siren had commented that supper looked like vomit, and Vess had not been impressed. He’d made gagging sounds all throughout the meal until finally Vess got so fed up, he’d ordered him to leave the table.

Siren poked at supper a bit, but only ended up eating a few mouthfuls. It was a delicious lamb stew in a ginger broth, but he refused to give Vess the satisfaction of seeing him eat. He tuned out the boring conversation Michael and Vess were having, and instead thought about the plans he and Team Red had been devising. He’d sent them incredibly detailed blueprints of the lab as well as the town, and Player was trying to figure out how to get the Team to the lab without alerting anyone. Landing a plane seemed too risky and so the only other option was for them to fly over and parachute, or to drive in from the next town over.

The largest problem was the massive wall and gate that protected the lab. If they parachuted in, they’d still have to find a way past that gate. If they drove in, it would be the same problem. They might be able to trick their way past the gate to get in, but after destroying the lab, there was no way the guards would let them back out.

“Finish your Maraq or eat a piece of bread,” Vess ordered, interrupting his thoughts, “You haven’t eaten enough.”

“I don’t want bread or dogfoo-er I mean ‘maraq’,”

Vess let out a sigh of exasperation. 

“If he’s not going to eat it, then can I have it?” Michael demanded, already reaching for the bowl.

Siren shoved it over to him and then stood up. “I want some edible food and so I’m going to go get some fries from the cafeteria.”

Vess levelled him with such a look that Siren backed up a step in case Vess tried to slap him. Vess didn’t move however, and simply narrowed his eyes.

“Fine,” Vess agreed, “If you want to eat that unhealthy garbage, then that’s up to you. Be back in an hour or you will spend the next three days locked in your room.”

"You can't lock me in my room during Christmas!" Siren protested.

"Watch me."

Siren rolled his eyes but nodded all the same. Vess watched Siren leave the apartment and then turned to Michael. 

“Go follow him,” he ordered, “I know he’s up to something, and I don’t like it.”

“Aw, Numa, I’m not done eating!”

“You’re done now,” Vess replied, removing his bowl, “Grab dessert from the cafeteria if you’re still hungry.”

Michael sighed heavily, but he did get up to do as he was told. Having every intention of giving Siren a good punch to the gut for the trouble, Michael left the apartment and began walking in the direction of the cafeteria. Siren was far ahead of him in the hallway, and so Michael stayed back but kept the other man in his sights. To his surprise, Siren passed the cafeteria and headed for the stairwell instead. Michael grinned at the realization Vess was right. Siren **was** up to something and Michael was going to delight in tattling on him. 

Following silently, he went down the stairs and he realized Siren was heading for the patient rooms. When Siren unlocked one of the rooms and slipped inside, Michael frowned when he saw it was Patient D.D’s room. What could Siren possibly want in there? 

Tiptoeing quietly down the hall, Michael pressed his ear against the door but couldn’t hear anything. He waited for a couple minutes and then couldn’t stand not knowing what Siren was up to. Pressing his palm to the reader, the door clicked open and he yanked it open fast before Siren could hide what he was doing. He definitely wasn’t expecting to see Siren kneeling next to DD’s bed with his hand on her forehead. Siren stared up at him with wide eyes and knew he was caught.

“What the hell are you doing?” Michael demanded, stepping into the room.

“I was just checking on one of the patients…” Siren replied, his tone oddly serious.

“Why would you-?”

Michael went silent at the sight of DD. She was wrapped up in bed, her skin deathly pale and her eyes closed. He took a hesitant step closer but she didn’t move.

“Is-is she…?”

It was then that DD’s eyes slowly opened and when she saw Michael and Siren, she smiled wide. 

“Mikey!” she whispered, “You’ve been away a really long time!”

Michael seemed stunned and he clearly didn’t know what to do. The little girl looked like she was about to die, and he didn't know what to do. DD reached over and took Siren’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze as she looked up at him.

“I knew you two were friends!” she said, her voice barely able to be heard.

“I am  **not** his-” Michael trailed off when she smiled up at him.

DD held her arms out towards him and Michael simply stood there awkwardly, having no idea what to do.

“Mikey!” DD begged, reaching further.

Michael’s face went through several dozen emotions and finally settled on worry. Without a word he slowly approached and took a seat on the bed. To Siren’s shock, he carefully lifted DD into his arms.

“Don’t you touch her!” Siren snarled.

Michael didn’t answer, simply staring down at the obviously sick child. He knew Vess had been planning on killing DD, but he never expected it to be like this.

“I missed you,” DD said quietly, “I was worried someone had hurt you!”

“I’m fine,” Michael answered, his expression becoming conflicted.

“I was lonely,” DD admitted, “I missed hearing you laugh.”

Michael grimaced and went silent again, simply staring at the girl in his arms. DD was struggling to keep her eyes open, and finally sleep won and she passed out, her breathing sounding ragged.

“What’s wrong with her?” Michael whispered.

“What do you think, dumbass?” Siren snapped, “Vess has been experimenting on her and it’s killing her!”

“But you’re helping her?” Michael demanded.

“Oh, what do you care, you sociopath? You don’t care about her!”

Michael nodded, feeling conflicted. “Of course I don’t,” he agreed, “Compassion is for the weak. The strong **step** on the weak.”

Siren squinted at him. “Those Vess’ words?” he demanded.

Michael shook his head. “My father’s.”

Michael Finnegan Senior had certainly done a number on Michael, but Siren was seeing something unexpected. The way Michael looked at DD, the way he held her was almost tender. That didn’t make sense however, and it went against everything Siren knew about Michael. A sociopath couldn't feel guilt.

“She’s going to die,” Michael stated, using his fingers to brush DD’s hair out of her face.

“Yes,” Siren confirmed, “Unless she gets to a hospital, she’s going to die.”

“Numa could save her,” Michael pointed out.

“Yes, he could,” Siren agreed, “He’s certainly talented enough, but he won’t. Diana is just one of his experiments and sometimes experiments fail. When she dies, he’ll move on to the next child.”

“Diana…” Michael repeated thoughtfully, “I forgot that was her name. We’re not supposed to use names for the patients. Numa said names make you see them as people...”

Michael glanced down at DD, his eyes looking somewhat pained. “...I’ve always seen her as a person. I could never make myself see her as just another patient... Numa doesn’t know this.”

Siren bristled in absolute fury.

“You did this,” Siren hissed at him, “You brought her here, and all of her pain, all of her sadness, and all of her loneliness is because of  **you** ! You destroyed her entire life!”

Michael said nothing and simply gently shifted DD back into bed.

“She’s spent her entire life in isolation and misery,” Siren continued, She’s going to die and she’s never experienced  **anything** ! She’s never even experienced Christmas before!”

Michael remained silent, but his hands clenched into fists.

“You’re a monster, Michael, and I don’t care if you tattle to Vess or not! It’s probably too late for Diana anyway.”

Siren gasped as a fist hit him solidly in the stomach and he sank to his knees, clutching at his belly in agony. He gasped a few more times, unable to stop the tears as they came to his eyes and he glared up at Michael, expecting the boy to take another swing at him.

“I love Numa and I will never betray him or do anything that would put his work at risk,” Michael stated, never taking his eyes from DD, “...I won’t tell him you were here though. Diana is not a threat to anyone.”

Siren wasn’t expecting this and simply gaped at him. “Why?” he demanded, wiping at his eyes.

Michael was carefully avoiding eye contact. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

Siren looked between Michael and DD for a moment and then his eyes widened. “You **actually** care about her in some weird and twisted way!”

Michael turned a murderous glare on him. “No, I don’t!” he snapped, “Why would I care about some random little girl? She’s nobody to me!”

Siren cocked his head, wondering for the first time if there was a little humanity lurking somewhere in Michael’s Neanderthal brain. Michael looked away again, and he stared down at DD as she slept.

“How long does she have left?”

“I don’t know,” Siren admitted, “I’ve been doing everything I can, but I can’t see her living for more than a month.”

Michael nodded. “Maybe… maybe we…”

Siren frowned at him. “Maybe we could what?” he demanded.

Michael hesitated. “Maybe we could give her a Christmas?” he suggested, “She can have one good memory before she dies?”

Siren was genuinely surprised and he stared at Michael as if he were seeing him for the first time. He thought of how happy DD had been to get a new toy, and it made his stomach twist guiltily. 

“...we can do that,” Siren agreed quietly.

“Numa can never know.”

Siren nodded. “Agreed.”

DD shifted a bit and then her eyes opened a crack. “Siren?” she whispered.

“I’m here,” Siren assured her.

“Will you sing to me?” she asked, “I like hearing you sing.”

Siren couldn’t deny her anything at the moment and so he simply nodded and took a seat on the bed beside her.

“How would you like to learn some Christmas songs?” he asked her.

DD nodded tiredly. She had no idea what Christmas was, but she’d listen to anything Siren wanted to sing to her.

“Pay attention because you’ll be quizzed afterwards,” Siren teased her.

DD smiled up at him and nodded.

Siren began softly singing ‘What Child is This’ to DD, and Michael simply watched, feeling a deep regret that he didn’t understand. He would give DD the best Christmas he could and then he would feel better, he was sure of it. As he watched DD drift back to sleep he wondered if Siren was right and he really was a monster.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Dash was very,  **very** carefully chiseling the stone around the Northern Star, his hands perfectly steady as he worked. Dash had the steadiest hands out of the whole group from all the needlework he did when designing his outfits, and Crackle knew he was their best chance of extracting the star undamaged. 

The work was extremely slow and Dash could only chip tiny crumbs of rock away from the artifact at a time. He was worried he’d cause a collapse or damage the artifact if he went too fast and he worked diligently. The mine was freezing cold, and even with the heater, everyone was shivering and huddling together. It had been nearly five hours and Dash’s hands were tired and aching, but he was making good progress.

Everyone else had taken a seat around his feet, huddling close to the heater, and they knew they wouldn’t be able to stay much longer or it would be dark. They’d designated one of the side tunnels as the ‘bathroom’ and no one was very happy over it. Paper Star had come back after a pee break complaining that she nearly got frostbite on her butt, and the men were just as miserable. They couldn’t wait to get out of the dark and cold mines.

“Pass me the alcohol,” Dash whispered, “I almost have it out.”

Crackle handed up the bottle of cheap alcohol, and Dash poured a bit over the star, watching and waiting as the liquid seeped in around the edges of where the star was stuck.

“How did this even get buried in rock?” Dash quietly muttered to himself, “It’s almost like it’s part of the mountain.”

“Are there volcanoes this far up North?” Neal guessed.

“No,” Paper Star answered in a soft voice. “There’s only five active volcanoes in the arctic, and none are in this region.”

“Well, all I know is this star does  **not** want to come loose,” Dash whispered, “We might have to come back tomorrow and chisel out the entire rock.”

“We could also break the star to remove it,” Crackle said thoughtfully with a frown, “It would lower the value, but that’s more of a V.I.L.E problem, than ours. At least we’ll get it that way.”

“Just give me a few more minutes,” Dash said, pouring more of the alcohol over the star. 

Dash continued working away at the star, and there was suddenly a popping sound and the star came off in his hand. He turned the large star over and looked at it in wonder.

“Got it,” he whispered proudly.

“Let’s see it!” Neal demanded, reaching over for it.

Dash allowed him to take it and Neal stared down it, impressed with how beautiful it was. The star was passed from teammate to teammate until everyone got a chance to look at it, and then Crackle carefully wrapped it in bubble wrap and placed it in his backpack for safe keeping.

“It’s almost a shame we have to take it,” Dash stated thoughtfully, “It really means a lot to these people...”

Neal smiled at him and gave him an affectionate nudge. “Well, in Whoville they say – that Dash's small heart grew three sizes that day,” he whispered, “Who would’ve thought Dashie had a conscience floating around in there?”

Dash sighed and rolled his eyes. “You’re an idiot, Neal.”

Neal’s grin grew even wider and he threw an arm around his shoulders. “Yes, but at least I’m-”

There was suddenly a loud crunching and crashing from above and Crackle reacted on instinct and threw himself forward knocking Dash and Neal backwards into one of the side tunnels just as the whole mine crashed in around them. Crackle covered his two teammates with his body as rocks and debris fell all around them, and then waited as the mine once again settled. Crackle winced in pain and hesitated for a few moments before trying to sit up. He was surprisingly not seriously injured, and he was grateful for the backpack that had protected him from most of the rocks. 

Crackle waited a minute or so as the dust cleared, and then he turned his attention to the two men below him. Both stared up at him with wide eyes, realizing they’d almost been crushed.

“Are you hurt?” Crackle asked them in concern.

Both shook their heads, and so Crackle scrambled over to where the tunnel was now blocked off by debris.

“Double Trouble, Moose Boy, Paper Star?” he called through the rubble.

“We’re okay!” one of the twins called back, “Are you guys alright?”

“We’re fine,” Crackle assured him, “We’re all fine. Are you guys trapped over there?”

“No, we can get out the way we came in,” Paper Star answered, “We’re going to start digging you out, just give us a few minutes to find the shovels.”

“No!” Crackle said firmly, “Don’t touch the rubble or you could cause another collapse. If the mines collapse again, there’s no way we would survive that!”

“We’re not going to just leave you here,” Paper Star replied, sounding angry at the suggestion, “We’re digging you out!” 

“No,” Crackle repeated firmly, “There are more exits to this mine. We’ll find another exit and then head for the cabin. Get out of the mine as fast as possible and then wait for us at the lodge.”

“What if you can’t find another way out?” one of the twins asked worriedly.

“I have the map,” Crackle responded, “It shows at least four different exits. We’ll be fine, but it might take us a while to get back. Just be careful and wait for us at the lodge.  **Don’t** try to come looking for us.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, return to the lodge. We might be a couple hours, but we’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Paper Star answered. “Look for the smoke of the cabin if you get lost. We’ll keep a fire lit.”

“Be careful,” Crackle responded, “I don’t want any of you getting hurt.”

“You too,” one of the twins answered, “No one dies today.”

“Agreed,” Crackle responded, “See you guys soon.”

Crackle then turned to Neal and Dash who had gotten to their feet. Neal tossed an arm around Crackle’s shoulder reassuringly.

“Thanks, wombat,” he said with a smile, “You saved our lives.”

Dash looked away. “Thank you, Graham,” he said in a subdued tone.

Crackle simply smiled at them cheekily, trying to lighten the mood. “I wasn’t trying to save you, I was trying to join you in being crushed,” he replied with a shrug, “Worst suicide attempt ever. Looks like I’m still stuck being the leader of this little ragtag team.”

Dash let out a snort and rolled his eyes, whereas Neal laughed, appreciating the humour. 

“That joke was terrible...I love it,” Neal commented, glancing at the three tunnels near them. “Okay, navigator, which way do we go?”

Crackle pulled the map out of his backpack and then shone his flashlight at it. He studied the maze of tunnels for a few minutes, trying to find the shortest route out of the mines, and then finally pointed to the tunnel in the middle.

“As long as there are no other collapsed tunnels, we should be able to get out of here in about ten minutes.”

Dash gave him a nod and pulled his own flashlight out of his pocket. Neal had dropped his during the collapse and so he fell into step beside Dash so he wouldn’t trip over anything. Afraid of causing another collapse, they walked in complete silence, Crackle keeping his gaze intently on the map, not wanting to lose their bearings for even a second. They were relieved when they finally saw light at the end of one of the tunnels and they eagerly headed for it.

When they reached the mouth of the tunnel, their excitement disappeared in an instant. They were dismayed to see that it was snowing heavily outside, but glad to at least be out of the dangerous mineshaft.

“Okay, we’re not far from the other entrance so we’ll probably meet up with the others as we head back down the mountain.”

“This heavy snow explains the collapse,” Dash commented thoughtfully, “Uncle Yak said this could happen.”

Crackle gave a nervous look to the snow that was quickly piling up on the mountain, and then glanced around, looking for a safe spot to start climbing down.

“The mine could collapse completely at any moment,” he said, “I think the first collapse was only the beginning.”

“Hopefully the others got out okay,” Neal said, suddenly worried, “If we don’t see them, we should loop around to the other entrance.”

“I know they would have listened to me when I told them to leave,” Crackle said confidently, “Our team is the best, and I know I can trust all of you.”

“Awww,” Neal teased, “I knew you loved us, Graham Cracker!”

“It’s getting colder,” Dash pointed out, putting his gloves back on, “We need to get moving before we freeze.”

“This side of the mountain is a lot steeper, ” Neal stated, glancing down at the far drop below them, “It will be tricky getting down.”

One of Neal’s feet began to slide on the ice as he peered over the edge, and Dash quickly reached out and caught him by the arm before he could slip, and he yanked him back to safety.

“Careful, idiot, don’t die in such a stupid way.”

Neal laughed. “I’ll try not to,” he promised.

“Okay, I think we can go down from this side,” Crackle announced, pointing, “It shouldn’t be too difficult to make our way back to the main path from here.”

A sudden deafening BOOM sounded from beside them and they saw the whole top of the hill collapse inwards, the mine underneath clearly destroyed. The mountain rumbled and shook as the mines collapsed, and Dash reached for Neal’s hand, afraid of falling. Crackle grabbed Dash’s other hand as the ground shifted and rocked and then they heard the sound of roaring. Looking up, they saw a massive avalanche barreling down the mountain towards them. They could do nothing but stare as a wall of white came towards them too fast to outrun. Only seconds later they were plowed off the side of the mountain in an explosion of white.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**The next chapter should be posted in 2 weeks. Chapter 34-38 are all part of the Christmas fic re-write. Now that we know all the characters, nothing can be spoiled, and the fic has been re-written to include everyone in it. If you've already read the Christmas fic posted back in December, I'd still check out the next few chapters because a lot has been added. The Christmas fic re-write will be the next four chapters since a lot of new stuff happens in it!**

**A huge thank you to the super-talented artists who did artwork for this chapter!**

**Violetfic created the awesome pic of The Northern Star artifact.  
**

**Coulrosaurus created the awesome pic of Otterman napping** ****

**The rest of the pics are stock images from Google and I do not them. **

.

**Credit for the names of Otterman and Moose Boy go to Animedemon01**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**

**Please don't forget to let me know what you think! **


	36. Frozen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone!
> 
> Have a bonus chapter this week! I've sooo excited for your guys to read this chapter and I really want to know what you think! Please leave a comment if you have anything to say! :D
> 
> An enormous thank you to the very awesome Violetfic and Coulrosaurus for offering plenty of good suggestions, and for being my betas! They both seriously offered SO many suggestions for this fic that they both deserve some recognition! You guys really helped improve this story a lot and you're awesome!
> 
> Please note that Dr. Vess and Michael Jr. both use the F-word extremely frequently in their everyday speech. You have been warned. Dr. Vess was created by Violetfic, and I am using him with her permission.
> 
> If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 36**

**Frozen**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Pain.

That was the first thing that Neal became aware of. The second was that he was choking on blood and couldn’t breathe. Coughing hard, he opened his eyes and all he saw was white all around him. Rubbing at his eyes, he slowly sat up and grimaced at the pain. His whole body ached, and he saw one of his knees had dislocated. Very used to this happening, he popped the joint back into place with practiced ease, wincing at the horrible pain of it. Squeezing his eyes closed until he got over it, he took a few deep breaths and then tried to get his eyes to focus.

He realized he must have bitten the side of his mouth at some point because his mouth ached and was filling with blood again. He spat again and watched as the blood froze before it even touched the ground.

“Huh...” was Neal’s only thought as he stared at the frozen blood. 

It was snowing hard and the snow was so cold, it almost felt like the flakes were cutting his skin, so he pulled his scarf up over his nose.

Neal glanced around and saw Dash was lying unconscious beside him, the other man’s hand clutched with a vice-like grip in his own. Neal didn’t even remember reaching for him, and was surprised he was able to keep his hold while being thrown off the mountain. He released the hand and then rubbed at his eyes, trying to clear his blurry vision. It was then that Neal realized he had lost a contact which was why his vision was so distorted. He pulled his goggles down into place, and his eyes stopped burning from the cold and he was able to focus on Dash.

Neal didn’t see any sign of Crackle, and so he crawled over to Dash and gave his shoulder a hard shake. Dash didn’t stir in the least, and Neal’s gaze settled on the bloody wound on his head, almost hidden underneath his hair. Neal brushed Dash’s hair aside and saw the wound was bleeding heavily and the snow underneath his head was soaked red.

Neal frowned in concern and gave Dash’s shoulder another, even harder shake. “Dash?”

There was no reaction, and Neal became worried. Head-wounds were serious, and he knew he had to wake the other man as soon as possible since it was likely that Dash was concussed. Reaching out a hand to turn Dash over, he immediately realized the other man wasn’t breathing.

“No, no, no!” Neal said in a panic, pressing his fingers to Dash’s throat to feel for a pulse.

He felt nothing and Dash’s skin was cold to the touch. Reaching inside Dash’s coat, he was relieved that there was still warmth coming from the torso.

“Don’t you dare die, fancy!” Neal said, beginning chest compressions, “Don’t you  **dare** !”

There was no response, and so Neal began alternating between chest compressions and mouth to mouth, knowing how important it was to be fast. He had no idea how long ago Dash had stopped breathing, but knew there was still a chance to revive him. Neal kept desperately working on him, but Dash remained completely unresponsive. Neal began getting a twisted and heavy feeling in his stomach, but he continued the chest compressions.

“Dash...come on,” Neal begged, “Don’t do this to me. Please don’t make me watch you die. Come on, Dash, just take a breath. Come on. Breathe for me!”

Dash’s lips were turning a pale blue, and Neal doubled his efforts.

“No, no, no!” Neal hissed, “You are going to breathe, and you’re going to open your eyes!”

Dash didn’t move and he didn’t breathe. Neal wasn’t willing to give up, and he felt tears come to his eyes.

“You told  **me** not to die in a stupid way, and  **this** is a stupid way to die, Dash Haber! Come on!  **BREATHE** !”

Neal counted as he did chest compressions, desperately hoping he wasn’t too late. Dash remained completely lifeless, and Neal was starting to become frantic.

"Dash, breathe, just breathe!" he yelled. "Come on!"

The chest compressions and mouth to mouth weren't working, and Neal knew it. He was going to see Dash die in front of him. Dash was too injured and there wasn’t a single thing he could do about it. He clenched his hands into fists, and knew Dash wasn’t coming back. He’d been too late, Dash was already dead.

“Oh, Dash…” Neal whispered, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…I wasn’t fast enough...”

Neal’s fingers clenched the fabric of Dash’s coat, and he ignored the tears that clouded his vision. Neal had never felt so helpless in his entire life.

“...Dash,” Neal said quietly, “You never wanted to come on this damn mission, but we forced you. I’m so sorry.”

Neal stared down at Dash’s face, and even in death Dash was still beautiful. His face was cold and still like a marble statue, and his skin was getting paler and paler. Neal let out a choked sob and closed his eyes, not wanting to look.

It was then that Neal remembered Dash’s epipen for his strawberry allergy and his eyes widened. A shot of pure adrenaline might be enough to kick-start Dash’s heart! Reaching into Dash’s pockets, he searched, and sure enough he found the small plastic case containing the epipen. As fast as he could, he unzipped Dash’s coat and then lifted his shirt. Biting the cap off the epipen, Neal stabbed it down into Dash’s chest hard, hoping to get the adrenaline as close to the heart as he could.

He then resumed the chest compressions with renewed vigor.

“Come on!” Neal ordered in a crazed tone, “Come on, Dash! You’re so damn stubborn, don’t you  **dare** die! Don't let a stupid avalanche win!”

Dash remained completely unresponsive, and Neal felt pure desperation take over.

“We’re best friends, Dash, even if you would  **never** admit it. We’ve been through a lot together. Don’t you  **dare** leave me here by myself. Don't you  **dare** ! Come on, just breathe...please.  **Please** Dash, please just breathe for me.”

There was no reaction at all, and Neal realized he’d been far too late. Dash was dead, and he wasn't coming back. Dash Haber was gone forever.

Sitting back, Neal felt a coldness settle in his chest, and he lifted his goggles so he could wipe at his eyes, the tears instantly freezing against his skin. He’d spent the last six months teasing and fighting with Dash, but he honestly did like him, and the loss hit him like a blow to the gut. The feeling of loss turned to rage, and Neal let out a furious curse.

“You fucking arse!” Neal screamed out, slamming both of his fists onto Dash’s chest, “You just  **had** to die! You’re such a selfish bitch, Dash Haber. A stupid, bloody poncy bitch!!”

He slammed down his fists again in pure rage and suddenly Dash took a large gasping breath. Neal stared for a moment with wide eyes, and then he let out a laugh of relief.

“You’re alive!” he cried out, unable to stop the tears, “Oh, thank god!”

Dash took another deep breath and then another, and Neal grinned widely, relieved beyond belief. He hurriedly checked Dash over, and the other man was quickly regaining the colour to his skin.

"Dash..." he said in pure relief. "You really scared me, you idiot."

Neal took a moment to calm himself down, and then he knew he had to wake Dash in case he was concussed. He gave Dash a hard shake to the shoulder, but Dash’s eyes remained closed.

“Dash?” Neal whispered, “Can you hear me?”

There was no answer.

He shook him a few more times, but Dash remained unconscious. Neal touched gentle fingers to the head-wound and hoped it wasn’t too serious. Neal carefully looked the rest of Dash over and the breathing was steady and so he felt confident Dash wasn’t going to suddenly die on him again. Zipping Dash’s coat back up, he turned his attention to the snow around them, looking for signs of Crackle. 

Seeing a bit of fabric sticking out of the snow several feet away, he crawled over and began digging. He found Crackle and pulled him out of the snow, the other man unconscious as well. He looked him over and was relieved he was breathing, and dragged him over to where Dash was. Crackle had a dislocated arm and so Neal expertly snapped it back into place, surprised the pain didn’t wake the other man. Checking him over, he found a deep gash across Crackle’s forehead. Unbuckling Crackle’s backpack, he pulled it over, knowing the other man was always prepared for situations like this.

Digging through, he found a flashlight, a flare-gun and a medical kit. Opening the kit, he removed several rolls of bandages, and a needle and thread and approached Dash first. Sitting with his back to the cold wind, Neal removed his gloves and threaded the needle. His hands were already numb, and so he stitched up the head-wound as fast and as carefully as he could and then stuffed his hands back in the gloves to get feeling back into his fingers.

Dash was still breathing steadily, and so Neal turned his attention to Crackle, knowing he needed stitches as well. He waited until his hands were a bit warmer and then repeated the process. It was dark out and the temperature was getting lower and lower, and Neal knew they couldn’t stay there or they’d freeze to death. Turning on the flashlight, he gave both men’s shoulders a hard shake, hoping at least one of them would wake, but there was no reaction.

Neal frowned and decided to try a different approach. Leaning in close to Dash’s ear, he whispered. “Dash, I used your toothbrush this morning, I hope you don’t mind.”

When Dash didn’t move, Neal let out a sigh realizing Dash was  **not** going to be waking up anytime soon. He needed to get them help, but how could he do that when there was no one around? Looking at the flare gun, he knew his only chance was to signal the rest of the team. Picking it up, he switched off the safety and then fired a shot straight up into the air. The snowstorm was so intense however, the red flash barely even showed up as it burst above. No one would be able to see it.

Neal turned his attention back to his teammates and knew he’d have to find a way to get them back to the lodge. The snow was too loose to dig any sort of shelter, and they had nothing to start a fire with. They had no choice but to begin walking. Neal stared at the two men, having no idea how he was going to move them both at the same time.

Kneeling down beside Dash, he checked him over and realized the other man was quickly losing body heat from not moving around. The cabin was at least an hour’s walk and Dash and Crackle would freeze long before then.

Neal looked down at his huge and warm parka and then down at the two men at his feet. His parka was the warmest clothing they had, and if he wrapped the two men in it, they’d stand a chance until they made it to the lodge.

Neal grimaced but knew it was the only way. Taking a deep breath, he began removing his parka, the bitter cold hitting him like a sledgehammer. Ignoring it, he laid the parka out flat on the ground, and then rolled Dash onto it. He then did the same with Crackle, squeezing his eyes closed against the cold as he did so. He then removed both men’s coats and put them both on, the coldness not quite as bad now. The Inuit parka was large and it was just big enough to fasten both men into it together. Neal then checked on them, and made sure their heads and faces were protected by their hats and goggles. Taking one of Crackle’s scarves, he wrapped it around his neck, knowing this was going to be a very miserable walk. 

The snow was so thick that Neal had no idea which direction to head to make it back to the cabin. He stared at the area around him, everything looking the same. Remembering how the wind was at face on the way to the mines, he knew his best bet would be to walk with the wind at his back and hope the wind hadn’t changed. He pulled out his com and saw the screen was cracked. He dug in Crackle’s pocket and pulled out his com, glad to see it was in-tact. When he saw it required a password, he let out a curse and pulled out Dash’s com. His com had a crack down the center of the screen but it still worked, and he took a guess at the password and when the com unlocked, he felt a little proud of himself.

Pulling up the map Crackle had loaded onto their coms, he confirmed that his guess had been right. The cabin was downwind.

Approaching Crackle’s backpack, he dug through it and found a long, but thin piece of braided rope. He fastened either end to the parka’s hood-ties, and hoped the parka could withstand what was to come. Removing Crackle's Snowshoes from the backpack, he put them on, and then picked up the rope. Neal looped the rope over his head so that it rested against his chest, and then slipped Crackle’s backpack on. Taking a deep breath, he then began pulling as hard as he could. 

Knowing getting started would be the hardest part, he pulled and pulled with all his might and he felt the strain of trying to move several hundred pounds. After a few moments, he was able to take his first step and then his second. Once he got moving, the strain wasn’t as bad, and he began a slow and steady pace forward.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

“You’re cheating,” Ivy accused angrily.

“I am  **not** !” Tigress snapped at her, “You just suck at this game!”

“You can’t suck at Monopoly, it’s all chance!” Ivy retorted, “You’re a cheat!”

“You owe me $1250, and so pay up!” Tigress ordered.

“You totally didn’t have a hotel there before!” Ivy challenged, “You’re  **cheating** !”

“I am not!”

“No, she is,” Otterman responded, “All of you, except for Carmen, have been cheating since the game began.”

“Oh, shut up, Otterdork,” Tigress grumbled, pinging the hotel off her property sullenly.

Carmen let out a deep sigh and glanced around at all her teammates who simply shrugged off the cheating accusations.

“I think it’s safe to say I won,” she responded, “Despite all of the cheating.”

Le Chèvre gave a shrug, “We’re criminals, what do you expect?”

Carmen rolled her eyes and then glanced over at Shadowsan who was quietly reading a book next to the fireplace.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” she called over, “We’re going to play clue next.”

“I am fine,” Shadowsan replied, not looking up from his book.

“Chase, Julia?” she offered, looking over at the two who were working on their laptops.

“No, thank you,” Chase answered, “I’m still reading the reports Siren sent over.”

“I’ve also been reading them, and everything seems genuine. I really do think Siren is telling us the truth.”

“Well, if you change your minds, you’re always welcome,” Carmen replied as Monopoly was packed up.

“Anyone feel like some hot chocolate?” Zack asked, “I’m going to make some.”

“Sure,” Otterman answered without hesitation, “Henrik has like 40 bags of chips if you want to grab a couple bags.”

“Why does he have 40 bags of chips?” El Topo asked. “That would take up a lot of suitcase space.”

Otterman sighed. “Long story.”

“I’ll be back in just a minute!” Zack announced, “I’ll just bring some hot chocolate for everyone.”

“And I’ll go grab those chips if you don’t mind,” Ivy replied, getting up and heading for the stairs.

Otterman glanced down at the sleeping kitten on his lap and gently patted her cheek. Chanel purred in her sleep and he smiled at her, loving how calm this cat was. The other kittens were wild and nippy, but Chanel just liked to be held.

“Do you think they’re alright out there?” Otterman asked in worry, “It’s been so long!”

“Team Crackle are smart and resourceful,” Carmen replied, “I’m sure they’re fine.”

“Your team are like roaches and impossible to get rid of,” Tigress commented, “They’ll be oozing through that door at any time.”

Otterman nodded silently and raised a hand to his engagement ring. Mime Bomb, who was sitting beside him, watched him and his gaze fell on the ring. Otterman rubbed his fingers over the intricate designs and when he pulled his hand away, Mime Bomb’s gaze fell on the pendant that hung beside the ring. His eyes widened and he leaned in so he could see it a bit closer. He saw the Volkov wolf and he pulled back in complete shock.

“Mime Bomb?” Carmen questioned in concern, “What’s wrong?”

Mime Bomb pointed at Otterman.

“What?” Otterman questioned, raising a brow.

Mime Bomb pointed frantically at Otterman’s necklace who glanced down.

“Oh!” he replied, instantly smiling down at his ring, “Yes, I’m engaged now! Isn’t the ring beautiful?”

Mime Bomb jerked his hand again towards the necklace.

“I don’t wear the ring because I’m worried I’d lose it,” Otterman explained, “It’s been in Henrik’s family for five generations and-”

Mime Bomb’s frustration was obvious and he frantically signed and then pointed again.

Otterman frowned. “...what?”

Mime Bomb huffed and signed again.

“I don’t know sign language,” Otterman replied in an apologetic tone, “I don’t know what you’re trying to say…”

“Mime Bomb, what is it?” Carmen asked, instantly concerned, “Zack, could you come in here for a moment?”

“Yeah, just a sec, Carm!” Zack bellowed back.

Mime Bomb raised a hand to his own neck and pulled his necklace out for Otterman to see. Otterman leaned in close and squinted at the necklace and then his eyes widened.

“Is..is that…?”

Mime Bomb nodded and unclasped his necklace so he could remove the Volkov pendant. Otterman did the same and then they held them side by side so they could compare them. They were almost exactly the same except for the fact Otterman’s had a pack of wolves whereas Mime Bomb’s just had a single wolf. The design of the wolves were identical however, and the family name was written on both pendants.

Otterman stared at the mime with wide eyes. Mime Bomb signed again, just desperate to be understood.

“Are...are you a Volkov?” Otterman whispered.

They now had absolutely everyone’s attention.

Mime Bomb met his gaze directly and nodded.

“You...you’re Yuri, aren’t you?” Otterman asked.

Mime Bomb seemed surprised by this.

“I was told about you,” Otterman told him a bit hesitantly, “They’ve been looking for you for years!”

Mime Bomb’s eyes widened even further and he stared at Otterman, wondering if this was some sort of trick. Otterman seemed hesitant as well, and Mime Bomb could see the worry in the other man’s eyes.

“Hey, what’s up?” Zack asked, poking his head into the room.

“Can you help translate for Mime Bomb?” Carmen asked.

“Oh! Sure,” Zack told her, entering the room with a whole tray of hot chocolate.

Setting the tray on the coffee table, he sat across from Mime Bomb and gave the other boy a look of concern.

“What’s wrong?” he asked him.

Mime Bomb began signing and Zack’s eyes widened.

“Are you my cousin?” Zack translated.

Otterman hesitated and reached up to adjust his glasses. “If you  **are** Yuri Volkov, then yes, I’m your cousin.”

Mime Bomb narrowed his eyes further.

“This is a trick,” Zack translated.

Otterman didn’t seem to know how to react to that and he hesitated.

Mime Bomb signed again. “I spent most of my life alone without family or friends and so this is an incredibly  **cruel** trick.”

“I’m not trying to trick you,” Otterman replied, “I had no idea who you were.”

Mime Bomb’s expression darkened.

“I’m supposed to believe that one of my missing cousins just happened to end up in the same cabin as me?

Otterman didn’t feel like Mime Bomb was being fair because he was just as surprised as him. “The same could be said about  **you** !” he challenged angrily, “I don’t even know if you’re a Volkov! You look nothing like Aunt Alexandria or Uncle Dmitry!”

Mime Bomb froze at the names he hadn’t heard in a very, very long time. 

“They’re...alive?”

Otterman nodded. “They tracked me down back in October and told me everything.”

Mime Bomb looked away for a moment. If his aunt and uncle were still alive, then maybe…?

“What about my father?” Zack translated.

Otterman slowly shook his head and Mime Bomb’s shoulders slumped.

“Both of our fathers are dead,” Otterman told him, “I...was told what Maxim did to you and I’m sorry. He was a monster, and I’m glad I never knew him. Alexandria and Dmitry have been trying to find you for a long time, and they think you’re dead.”

Mime Bomb frowned at him suspiciously, and had no idea what to believe.

“Wait…” Otterman said in realization, “Did you say I was ONE of your missing cousins?! Are there others?”

Mime Bomb nodded and signed.

“There’s four of us in total,” Zack explained, “There’s only Alexandria’s child left missing.”

Otterman shook his head. “No, aunt Alexandria’s baby died a long time ago,” he explained sadly.

Mime Bomb frowned. “What happened?” he asked.

“When Aunt Alexandria was cut off from the main Volkov line, she moved with her husband to South America to go into hiding. While she was away on a mission, their home was raided and burned to the ground. Her husband and baby both died.”

There were instant gasps of complete shock and all eyes went to Carmen who paled.

“Wh-Where in South America?” Carmen asked.

Otterman frowned and scratched at his chin. “I think she said it was somewhere in Argentina...Buenos Aires maybe?”

Shadowsan suddenly surged across the room and had Otterman by the throat before the other man even had time to react. He dropped the kitten who immediately hissed and scrambled away, and Otterman gasped and clawed at Shadowsan’s iron-like grip.

“You’re lying!” Shadowsan snarled.

“I’m not!” Otterman yelped out, “What are you doing?!”

“Did V.I.L.E put you up to this?!”

“Wh-what?!” Otterman gasped, struggling to breathe, “No! Why  **would** they?!”

Shadowsan narrowed his eyes, his expression dangerous. “Tell me the name of Alexandria’s husband!” he ordered, tightening his grip.

“I-I can’t breathe!” Otterman protested, kicking and struggling uselessly, “Help! Yuri, help!”

Mime Bomb had a hand raised to his mouth and he seemed completely stunned. He did reach out a hand towards Shadowsan and when he began pulling on his arm, Shadowsan turned a warning glare on him. Mime Bomb stepped back and then bit his lower lip guiltily, simply watching as the ninja choked the other man.

“TELL ME!” Shadowsan boomed, shaking Otterman viciously.

“D-Dexter Wolfe!” Otterman cried out, “His name was Dexter Wolfe!”

“What do you know of Dexter Wolfe?” Shadowsan demanded, loosening his hold enough to allow the other man to breathe.

“H-He was a V.I.L.E faculty who fell in love with the only daughter of Mikhael Volkov. Neither side trusted the other and the love was forbidden. Alexandria ran away with her love and was exiled because of it. She changed her name and lived in South America for two years.”

Shadowsan released Otterman who immediately clapped his hands to his throat as he gasped for breath. He scrambled away from Shadowsan to the other end of the couch and then curled into a protective ball, covering his head and neck.

“This is all a trick,” Shadowsan said in a certain voice, “This is  **far** too many coincidences.”

“But what if it’s true?!” Carmen demanded, “How would he know any of this?”

“Carmen, do not be foolish!” Shadowsan snapped, “This is a trap!”

Carmen stared at Shadowsan for a moment and then turned her gaze to Otterman who remained curled up like he was expecting to be beaten. Carmen felt pity for the obviously terrified man and she cautiously approached him, Mime Bomb following along beside her. Kneeling down beside the couch, Carmen laid a gentle hand on Otterman’s back who gave a violent flinch. Mime Bomb knew very well the signs of abuse as he himself had been beaten frequently during his time at the lab. He rested a hand on Otterman’s shoulder and gently rubbed, trying to convey that he was safe.

“I’m sorry, Sven,” Carmen said, “What you’re claiming is a lot for us to believe, and you can’t blame us for being skeptical.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Otterman replied, not moving from his protective position, “It was  **Yuri** who saw the necklace! I had no idea who he was!”

The stress and fear in Otterman’s voice was something that couldn’t be faked and Carmen wanted desperately to believe him. If he was telling the truth, she finally knew who she was, and she had a family. Carmen snapped her head to stare at Mime Bomb. Mime Bomb was her cousin! He glanced at her as well and she felt a wave of pure happiness.

“I have a family…” she whispered, reaching for Mime Bomb’s hand.

“We’re your family as well, Carm,” Ivy pointed out.

Carmen wiped at her eyes and smiled over at her team. “Of course you are,” she agreed, “It’s just that I finally know where I came from.”

“It’s a lie,” Shadowsan insisted, “Don’t allow yourself to be hurt in this way!”

“I believe him,” Carmen announced, “What reason would he have to lie?”

“To hurt you!” Shadowsan snapped.

Carmen looked down at Otterman and felt bad for him.

“Sven, I believe you,” she told him gently, “The baby you spoke of in your story was me. I am Alexandria’s child.”

Otterman looked up and met Carmen’s gaze and she smiled at him.

“I was taken from Buenos Aires when I was a baby, and my father’s name was Dexter Wolfe.”

Otterman’s eyes widened, and before he really had time to consider this, she yanked him into a hug. Otterman looked to be on the verge of a panic attack, and he squirmed as he glanced over at Mime Bomb. Mime Bomb could see how uncomfortable he was and he simply shrugged and offered him a reassuring smile.

When Carmen released him a moment later, he averted his gaze. 

“We’re enemies…” he pointed out, “We can’t get close to one another…”

“It doesn’t have to be that way!” Carmen assured him, “You belong with us! Join my team so we don’t have to fight each other!”

Otterman still didn’t look at her.

“Sven?” Carmen questioned.

“I love my found family,” he replied, “I won’t betray my team. I was already asked to join Alexandria and Dmitry and I declined their offer.” 

“V.I.L.E doesn’t care about you,” Carmen told him, “They use people and then toss them aside. Eventually they’ll do the same to you.”

Otterman looked up at her. “We’re no longer with V.I.L.E, our team is now independent.”

Carmen was not expecting this and she gaped at him in disbelief. “You left V.I.L.E?! WHEN?!”

“We defected from them back in August,” Otterman replied, “We have an agreement that they leave us alone.”

“You pulled a V.I.L.E job just back in October!” Ivy protested, “and you guys tried to run down Carmen with your truck!”

Otterman shrugged. “We accept contracted jobs to earn extra money,” he replied, “And for the attempted murder, that was  **all** Graham. He  **really** dislikes you.”

“I don’t understand his hatred,” Carmen said in distress, “I’ve been trying so hard to mend things between us!”

Otterman blinked at her and then sighed. “He’s mad over how Neal and Dash were treated in your care,” he told her, “As well as your general lack of respect for boundaries.”

“That was all a huge misunderstanding!” Carmen cried out, “I never meant to cause any harm to Neal or Dash!”

“Graham cares for us, and your team has put us in danger time and time again. He sees you as a threat and I really can’t see that changing anytime soon.”

Now that Carmen knew what was holding Graham back, she felt certain she could fix it. 

“I’ll make things right,” she vowed, “I don’t want us to be enemies.”

Otterman wished there was a cell signal because he wanted to call his aunt  **so** badly, but it would have to wait until they got back to civilization. He’d found two of his cousins, and now he just had to meet the third.

“I don’t suppose you happen to know where our other cousin is, do you?” Otterman asked.

Carmen and Mime Bomb gave him such an odd look that he was confused by it.

“What?” he demanded.

Mime Bomb and Carmen exchanged a glance, and Mime Bomb grimaced.

“Yes, we know where MJ is…” she replied hesitantly.

Otterman was completely floored that in just a few minutes he had gained three new relatives. “Great! Where is he?”

There was another awkward pause.

“You know Doctor Vesalius?” Carmen asked.

Otterman scowled. “I certainly do,” he spat, “He’s the one who messed with Graham’s head and then he tried to do the same to Henrik!”

“Well, Michael is living with Vess…” Carmen supplied.

“Living with Vess…” Otterman repeated, “He works at the Volkov labs?”

Mime Bomb made a gagging motion and Carmen winced.

“Er...no. MJ is dating Vess and they’re the number one enemy of our team…”

Otterman blinked and then he pulled a face. “He’s dating VESS?!”

“Unfortunately,” Carmen replied, “MJ is a lost cause and he’s hurt a lot of people. Our team is working to have him arrested and put behind bars where he belongs.”

Chase made an odd noise in the back of his throat like he disagreed, but he didn’t comment. Mime Bomb began signing and Zack stepped forward to help translate.

“MJ is a complete psychopath and I don’t know how such a sweet and gentle person like Dmitry created such a monster,” Zack translated, “Dmitry was the most normal one out of the whole family!”

Otterman thought of the Plague Doctor holding a bloody scythe as he fought in the warehouse, and he shuddered. “...yeah, can’t imagine…” he commented. “That’s...unfortunate…” Otterman agreed, looking his two cousins over hesitantly. “Um...if you don’t mind...could we perhaps talk for a while?”

Carmen and Mime Bomb nodded.

“I’d like that,” Carmen agreed, “If you know my mother, do you have her contact information?”

“There’s no signal here, but I can give you all the contact information for the Volkovs I have.”

“Our grandparents have been looking for both of you,” Zack translated from Mime Bomb, “You should contact them as soon as possible.”

Otterman nodded with a frown. “I know...I have their contact information but I haven’t reached out to them yet…”

“Why not?” Carmen questioned

“I didn’t have a very good childhood and the people I thought were my parents treated me very poorly. I was worried that I would just find more abuse and rejection if I reached out,” Otterman admitted, “I didn’t know what kind of people they were.”

Carmen didn’t know Otterman at all, but she could see the pain in his eyes, and she could understand his reluctance. Reaching out, she took his hand, and he seemed surprised, but he allowed it.

“Even if we’re on opposite sides, we’re still family and I hope we can still get to know each other.”

Otterman looked away. “I doubt Graham is going to be very happy with this,” he stated, “My entire family is against us…”

“We’ll talk to Graham and figure something out,” Carmen insisted, “Perhaps we can declare a temporary truce?”

Otterman scratched at his chin and glanced at the room full of enemies and he shrugged. “We’re outnumbered, and so that  **might** work...”

“If my mother told you about me, did she happen to mention my real name?”

Otterman gave a slow nod. “Your name is Anna Volkov, named after your grandmother Annika Volkov.”

“Anna…” Carmen said as if testing the word on her tongue, “My name is Anna…”

Mime Bomb pulled Otterman’s sleeve to get his attention and he glanced over at the mime.

“Tell us everything you know about Volkov and Vess’ lab,” Zack translated for Mime Bomb.

This information would in no way affect his team and so Otterman nodded in agreement. “Alright, but someone pass me a mug of that hot cocoa before it gets cold.”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

It was now storming heavily and the snow was getting deeper and deeper. The twins, Moose Boy and Paper star walked in silence, everyone too cold to be in the mood for conversation. Paper Star was the smartest in the group and so she was following the map to lead them back to the lodge. She was having a really hard time due to her small size, and she struggled with every step. Walking through the deep snow was difficult and she was quickly tiring, despite the fact she was trying to step in the twins footsteps.

Theodore and Roosevelt stood a full two feet taller than her, and with their long legs, the growing snow-drifts weren’t much of a problem. They had all lost their snowshoes in the collapse, and had no choice but to walk through the snow, sometimes sinking down past their knees in places. Paper Star sometimes ended up walking through snowdrifts that were waist high and then it was a fight for her to get back out. She had to fight five times as hard just to walk and it was quickly wearing her down.

Paper Star didn’t say a word of complaint, but her every step was a struggle and after a time, she stumbled down to her knees, exhausted and frozen. Without a word, Roosevelt reached down and scooped the girl into his arms like she weighed nothing at all.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” Paper Star told him, feeling embarrassed and angry.

“I know,” Roosevelt responded, “You’re the strongest person I know, and I knew you’d never ask for help.”

Paper Star didn’t know what to say to that, and he smiled down at her in a goofy way.

“I don’t  **need** your help...” she finally said, no venom to her words, and feeling defeated.

“I know,” Roosevelt answered, keeping his gaze straight ahead, “But let me do this for you. We all care about you, and I  **want** to help you, Shiko. You’re very tiny, and I’m very big, and so use me to get to the cabin faster.”

The sound of her name made her look up at him in surprise, and Roosevelt’s expression was completely genuine and open. Paper Star averted her gaze as she flushed, and said nothing, simply allowing him to carry her, his body protecting her from the wind and cold. Exhaustion taking over, she allowed herself to sag into his hold, secretly relieved she no longer had to walk. 

It took them nearly two hours to reach the cabin since the snow and cold slowed them down. Everyone was freezing cold and incredibly tired by the time the lodge came within sight, and they silently made their way towards the door, just wanting to warm up. Setting Paper Star down on her feet, Roosevelt went to open the door, but discovered it was locked.

“Did Crackle lock the door?” he asked his brother in confusion.

“No,” Theodore responded with a frown, “Maybe they made it back before us, or maybe Sven locked it?”

Knowing it had taken them a long time to make it through the drifts, everyone doubted the three smaller men could have beaten them there.

“Maybe Ukiuk returned because of the storm?” Paper Star guessed, “Isn't that his van over there? Just knock before we all freeze to death.”

Roosevelt furrowed his brow, and then banged hard on the door. They could hear voices on the other side and then there was the sound of the door being unlocked. To their complete surprise, Carmen Sandiego stood there with a very smug look on her face.

“Evening, Team Crackle,” she greeted.

“You...you’re in our cabin!” Moose Boy yelled out angrily.

“Imagine that,” Carmen responded, glancing past the twins, obviously looking for the others.

“Get out of our cabin  **now** !” Theodore ordered, holding up a fist threateningly. 

“Nope,” she answered, popping the ‘p’ playfully. 

The three men weren’t expecting this, and it took them by surprise. They’d fully expected her to be intimidated by them. Paper Star narrowed her eyes.

“What?” Theodore asked dumbly, “What do you mean ‘nope’?!”

Carmen indicated the large group of people standing behind her watching their interaction. “My team outnumbers yours, and if you want us to let you in, you’re going to hand over the Northern Star, and you’re going to agree to be our prisoners.”

“Never!” Roosevelt snarled, viciously. “That’s  **our** cabin, and you have no right to be here! Get out or I’m going to throw you out myself!”

Carmen didn’t look too worried. “When you’re ready to talk civilly, I’ll be willing to listen,” she responded, closing the door in their faces.

“Sven is in there!” Moose Boy cried out in distress, “They have Sven!”

They stared at the door in disbelief for a few seconds, and then Roosevelt once again banged on the door. 

Carmen immediately opened the door and raised an eyebrow. “Yes?” she demanded.

“Fight us!” Roosevelt demanded, standing in a fighting stance. 

Carmen closed the door again without a word.

The twins exchanged angry looks while Moose Boy silently fretted.

“Break the door down,” Paper Star ordered, “I’m cold and don’t want to deal with this nonsense.”

Double Trouble were tired, sore and very cold, and they stared at the heavy solid wood door, knowing it was going to take a good amount of force to break. Moose Boy threw himself at the door, but he bounced off, the door just as solid as before.

“I wouldn’t suggest that if I were you,” Carmen advised through the door, “Break down this door and you four are never getting in here, and you can spend the night huddled in the van.”

“She...she’s not serious, is she?” Theodore asked uncertainly, “She wouldn’t really leave us to freeze out here!”

Moose Boy reached out and gave a hesitant knock to the door. This time when Carmen answered the door, she was calmly sipping a mug of hot chocolate.

“Looking a bit cold out there, guys.” she observed in amusement. 

“You wouldn’t really leave us out here all night...would you?” Theodore asked her.

Carmen gave him a shrug. “That all depends on you,” she replied, “Where are the rest of your team?” 

“They’re coming,” Theodore responded, “They just got delayed for a bit...”

“Is...is that hot chocolate?” Moose Boy asked, craning his neck to peer inside her mug.

“Sure is,” she responded, taking another sip, “With marshmallows.”

The twins shifted on their feet, starring unhappily at the mug, just the sight of it making them feel even colder.

“Give us the star and surrender, and I  **might** be persuaded to make you some,” Carmen informed them, “Sven is having a mug right now.”

Moose Boy’s eyes widened and he tried to peer into the lodge, but he couldn’t see Otterman. “You okay, Sven?” he bellowed inside.

“Yep,” Otterman yelled back from the other room.

“Are you going to surrender?” Carmen demanded, “All you need to do is give us the star.”

“We don’t even have it,” Theodore complained, “Crackle has it.”

Carmen glanced out across the tundra but it was snowing too hard to see more than a few feet. “How long will he be?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Theodore admitted, “It was hard walking for  **us** , and so it would be even harder for  **them** . An hour maybe?”

“Surrender then,” Carmen ordered, “If I allow you inside, you have to swear to abide by our rules and be our prisoners.”

“What?! No!” Roosevelt protested.

Moose Boy gave a shrug. “Okay, I surrender,” he said, “Take me to Sven.”

Carmen lowered her arm to allow him to pass and he disappeared inside.

“Henrik!” Roosevelt scolded.

“And how about you three?” Carmen demanded.

Roosevelt was furious that once again Team Red was ruining everything for them, and he clenched his fists, tempted to plow the girl in the face as hard as he could.

“Tell me you give up and allow yourselves to be captured,” Carmen ordered, as several of her teammates hovered just over her shoulder.

“Never!” Roosevelt hissed, “Fight us fair and square, you cowards!”

Carmen let out a sigh.

Paper Star suddenly threw a throwing star straight at Carmen’s throat, and a hand shot out and caught it before it could make contact. Shadowsan gave her a hard look and crushed the star in his hand without a single word. Carmen stared at the other girl and frowned, knowing Paper Star would likely never give in.

Carmen then held out a pair of car keys, clicked a button and unlocked the van. “Enjoy your night outside in the van,” she informed them, closing the door in their faces.

They stared at the closed door and they immediately began shivering violently.

“I say we take our chances and fight them,” Roosevelt suggested, “Let’s knock the door down.”

“We won’t win,” Paper Star commented, sounding like it pained her to admit it, “There’s ten of them and only three of us. Henrik and Sven are prisoners now and we can’t depend on them to help us. The only thing we’ll succeed in doing is getting ourselves hurt.”

“If you didn’t think we could win, why did you throw a star?” Theodore asked in confusion.

Paper Star shrugged. “...I lost my temper,” she admitted a bit sheepishly.

Roosevelt frowned at the closed door. “Then what do we do? We can’t stay out here all night! We’ll freeze to death!”

They glanced over at the unlocked van. 

“We’ll wait for Crackle to get here and then we’ll stand a better chance of fighting our way in,” Paper Star suggested, “They can’t be too far behind us. Hopefully they won’t be longer than an hour or so. We’ll be fine once we get out of this wind.”

Roosevelt glared at the closed door, and then yelled. “Just wait until Crackle gets here!  **You’ll** be the ones freezing in the van!”

To Paper Star’s shock, he then scooped her back into his arms and then stomped his way towards the van with Theodore following at his heels. They crawled into the backseat, and wrapped the car-blanket around the three of them, huddling as close as they could to share body heat. It was still freezing cold, but now that they were out of the wind, it was a bit more tolerable. 

“If they’re not here soon, I’ll hot wire the car to give us a bit of heat,” Paper Star stated, “That will burn gas though so it should only be a last resort.”

The twins nodded their agreement.

Hoping the others wouldn’t take too long, they miserably settled down to wait.

Carmen watched them from the window, and then rolled her eyes.

“So stubborn,” she commented with a sigh, “Alright, Henrik, you can go to Sven now. He’s in the living room.”

Moose Boy nodded, and they walked to the living room, fully prepared to defend themselves if he suddenly attacked. The moment Moose Boy entered the living room, Otterman got up and ran for his partner. Throwing his arms around him tightly, he leaned up to get a kiss and Moose Boy hugged him back tightly. 

“I was worried!” Otterman fretted, “You were gone for so long!”

“I’ll never leave you,” Moose Boy promised, smiling at him gently.

“I love you,” Otterman whispered.

“I love you too,” Moose Boy answered.

“You two are together?!” Ivy yelped out in surprise.

Otterman raised an eyebrow. “Who did you think I was engaged to?” he asked in amusement, “Henrik and I have been together for fifteen years.”

“Oh...it just...seems like an odd pairing to me,” she commented, “Congratulations! Your ring is really nice.”

Otterman smiled at her and then turned back to Moose Boy.

“You’re freezing!” Otterman commented, “Come sit next to the fire! I have so much to tell you! Where are the others?”

“Teddy, Roose and Paper Star are still outside because they wouldn’t surrender, and Neal, Dash and Crackle aren’t back yet.”

“Not back?!” Otterman said, glancing towards the window, “What happened?”

“There was a cave-in and we got separated,” Moose Boy explained, “No one was hurt, but we had to take different paths to get back to the lodge.”

Ivy stared out the living room window at the van and she frowned. “How long are we going to leave them out there?” she asked.

“Long enough to cool their heels,” Carmen responded, “We don’t want any fights.”

Shadowsan didn’t look very happy over this situation, and he glared outside at the van. “We’ll have to tie them up when you allow them in. They’ve proven they can’t be trusted.”

Carmen took a long sip of her hot chocolate. “We’ll see how things go,” she commented, “Crackle’s usually a bit more reasonable than those three.”

“Oh, wow! No way!” Zack suddenly cried out from the stairs.

Turning around, they saw him standing at the bottom of the staircase looking at a gold-coloured 3ds.

“Where’d  **that** come from?” Ivy demanded.

“We were digging through Team Crackle’s bags,” Zack responded with a shrug, "I found it."

“Seriously?!” Otterman snapped, “How rude can you possibly get!”

“Zack!” Ivy scolded, “I know they’re bad guys, but  **still** .”

“Get a load of this game file!” Zack said holding out the 3ds, “Look at how many level 100 shinies he has! He must have spent  **forever** on this!”

“Shinies?” Carmen repeated in confusion.

Ivy rolled her eyes. “Pokemon. Zack’s a big nerd.” 

“Ah,” Carmen responded, still not fully understanding.

“Who does that belong to?” Ivy asked, “Neal?”

“By the amount of very expensive clothes I saw in the dufflebag, I’d have to guess it’s Dash’s,” Zack answered, eyes still on the screen, “Plus he named his trainer Armani.”

“Yes, that’s Dash’s and he loves that 3DS!” Otterman scolded angrily, “Put it back! Trust me, you don't want to touch it without his permission.”

Carmen raised an eyebrow, not expecting Dash of all people to like Pokemon. She was willing to bet that wasn’t something he wanted most people to know about.

“Put all of Team Crackle’s stuff back where you found it,” she ordered, “Unless you found more weapons that is.”

“Aw,  **everything** ?” Zack complained.

“We’re not stealing their personal belongings,” Carmen said firmly, “Sven is right, and it’s extremely rude! Put back what you took and stop snooping.”

Zack let out a disappointed sigh. “Fine, but I already stole a weird candybar from Neal’s bag. Too late to give  **that** back.”

Ivy gave him a look of horror. “You ate something you found in  **Neal’s** bag?! Bro, you’re so gonna die!”

“It wasn’t opened, and it was actually really good,” Zack protested, "Had some sort of fudge in it."

Otterman narrowed his eyes to slits. “You better not have touched anything in my room,” he warned, thinking of his expensive chocolates.

“Naw, you’re an alright guy so I never snooped in your room,” Zack replied.

“You are going to end up poisoning yourself one of these days,” Ivy commented in exasperation, “I can’t believe you ate something you found in Neal’s stuff! Ugh!”

“I want to play this file  **so** bad…” Zack said in despair, “Maybe I’ll just play for a  **little** bit and then put it back…”

“Zack.”

“Well, Dash isn’t even here yet!” Zack protested, "He'll never know!"

“Put it back before you accidentally break it, bro,” Ivy ordered, “Do you really want to listen to that drama-queen have a fit as soon as he notices you touched his stuff?”

Zack let out a deep sigh. "Ugh, fine,” he said, turning back to the stairs.

“And tell Mime Bomb not to be digging through people’s belongings either,” Ivy told him.

“He’s not up there,” Zack answered, “I think he’s trying to figure out that weird gas stove with Antonio.”

“Are they cooking something?” she asked hopefully.

“Well, I think they’re going to  **try** to make muffins for breakfast tomorrow.” Zack answered.

“Good, Mime Bomb’s muffins are, well, the bomb!” Ivy commented, rubbing her stomach.

Carmen nodded her agreement, and glanced over at Shadowsan who hadn’t once taken his eyes from the van outside.

“Everything will be fine,” Carmen assured him.

Shadowsan gave another frown out the window, knowing it wouldn’t be long before the rest of team Crackle showed up. He had a feeling this wasn’t going to go smoothly, and he was fully prepared to fight if the need arose.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

“I’m back!” Michael announced, entering the apartment while carrying dozens of bags.

Siren was laying on the couch watching tv while absentmindedly sucking on a candy cane. He glanced up as Michael stepped in front of the tv and frowned as the boy began emptying out the bags in front of him.

Siren watched in mild interest as Michael dumped everything into a massive pile on the living room floor. Pulling his candy cane out of his mouth, he gave Michael a questioning look.

“I think I got nearly everything on the list,” Michael commented, pulling a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket, “I couldn’t find that flux capacitor thingy you wrote down though. I tried asking, but everyone kept laughing at me. Is it important?”

Siren let out a disappointed sigh. “Christmas simply won’t be the same without it, but we’ll just have to make due with what we have.”

“Numa normally works until six or seven and so we only have a few hours to get these decorations up. Get up off your ass and grab some garland.”

“What makes you think I would ever give a shit about Vess’ Christmas?” Siren replied, giving a lazy stretch, “I am going to watch the rest of my show and then I am going to take a nap.”

Michael simply stared at him in disbelief. “You said you loved Christmas!” he said accusingly.

Siren shrugged. “I do, but I’m also far too lazy to ever decorate for it. Have fun.”

Michael narrowed his eyes. “No, you’re going to help me, you ugly little asshole!”

Siren sucked on his candy cane and simply motioned for Michael to get away from the tv. Michael scowled and took a step towards him threateningly.

“Help put this shit up or I’m going to beat the shit out of you!”

“You do that anyway,” Siren pointed out, “This morning you knocked over my chair during breakfast.”

Michael hesitated and then clenched his fists. “Then I’ll beat you up even worse than usual!” he threatened, “Everything has to be perfect!”

“Good luck,” Siren replied, flopping over onto his side on the couch.

“Okay, you’re getting an ass-kicking!” Michael snarled, reaching for him.

One moment Michael was grabbing Siren by the front of the shirt and the next thing he knew Siren had stabbed his candy cane deeply into Michael’s forearm. Michael immediately released him with a surprised yelp, and he stared at the pointed candy cane in Siren’s hand in disbelief.

“You just shanked me with a candy cane!”

Siren dropped the bloody candy cane to the floor and then glared up at Michael. “If you want me to do something for you, try asking instead of being a dick.”

Michael gaped at him and then down at his bleeding arm. Without a word, he turned and headed for the bathroom to deal with the stab wound. Siren knew he was likely going to be in deep shit with Vess once Michael tattled, but it was worth it in his opinion. He was tired of the non-stop bullying, and he was looking forward to the day he could finally escape.

Michael returned a few minutes later, and Siren tensed, fully expecting Michael to retaliate. To his surprise, Michael simply ignored him and got to work on the decorations. Siren watched him for a few minutes, and then heaved a sigh and got up to help. He honestly did love Christmas, and the thought of Vess walking in to see his apartment full of tacky decorations was going to be incredibly amusing. Michael glared at him, but accepted the help as they assembled the artificial tree.

“...I was thinking about Diana,” Michael admitted as they began hanging the garland.

“Oh?” Siren questioned.

“I think we should decorate her room.”

Siren raised a brow. “And how will you explain that to Vess?”

Michael shrugged. “I don’t know but you’re smart and so I thought maybe you’d think of something…”

Siren squinted at Michael in disbelief. Was that a compliment? 

“...I bought her a stuffed dog,” Michael stated, “She asked me about dogs one time…”

“She’s doing a little better today,” Siren told him, “I think the latest course of medicines might be helping her.”

Michael’s eyes widened. “She’ll live?!”

Siren shook his head. “No, it’s just delaying the inevitable,” he responded, “Her liver and possibly her kidneys are destroyed and she needs a hospital. Even with a transplant, her survival isn’t guaranteed.”

Michael turned away and attached another string of garland to the wall. “Will you help me decorate Diana’s room?”

Siren wasn’t expecting to be asked instead of ordered and he hesitated. “...yes,” he responded, “I’ll help you.”

Michael nodded, his expression completely unreadable. Siren watched him for a moment, and wondered if Michael was actually feeling guilt over the situation. Siren could never even begin to understand the way Michael’s mind worked, but it was obvious there was more to him than he expected. Michael had hurt a lot of people and did terrible things at Vess’ orders, but perhaps the boy wasn’t a sociopath after all…? If he felt guilt and compassion for DD, then he wasn’t as much of a hopeless monster as Siren had suspected.

It took them over two hours to completely decorate the apartment and when they were done, Michael compared it to his sketch and seemed satisfied. Michael moved several gifts under the tree, and then glanced at the remaining decorations.

“If we hurry, we can decorate Diana’s room and get back before Numa gets off work.”

Siren glanced at the clock and knew they’d be cutting it pretty close. “Alright,” he agreed, “But if we get caught, you’re taking the blame for it!”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Whatever, just come on.” 

Michael stuffed the remaining decorations into a bag and headed for the door. Siren sighed and followed along behind him, wondering how he always ended up spending his free time with Michael. Vess had allowed him a Christmas break, and his every free moment seemed to be monopolized by Michael lately.

The entire lab was on skeleton crew because of the holidays and Siren knew this would have been the ideal time for a raid on the building. Unfortunately Team Red needed more time, and it would likely be another month before they were ready to take down Vess.

Diana was quietly playing with Legos when they entered the room, and when she saw them, her entire face lit up and she struggled to her feet. She hugged Michael first and then latched onto Siren.

“Will you play with me?” she asked hopefully.

“We’re going to do something far better!” Michael announced.

DD’s gaze went to the bag in Michael’s hand and he grinned at her. 

“You need to close your eyes and we’re going to surprise you with something!”

DD shifted nervously and she pulled her arms close to her chest. “W-will it hurt?”

“No, why would a surprise hurt?” Michael scoffed.

“Doctor Vess’ surprises always hurt. Whenever he says he has a surprise, it always ends up being more needles.”

Michael’s expression shifted into one of confusion and resignation, and he glanced down at the bag of decorations.

“No, this is a good surprise,” Siren assured her, “Fuckwit and I have something special planned.”

“Is Michael the fuckwit?” DD asked.

“Michael is  **always** the fuckwit,” Siren confirmed.

Michael scowled and elbowed Siren who gave him an innocent look. Michael sighed and then turned to DD.

“Close your eyes and don’t open them,” he ordered.

DD gave them both an uncertain look, but she was curious and so she closed her eyes.

“No peeking or I’ll be pissed!” Michael warned her.

“I won’t!” DD vowed.

“Good,” Michael said, dumping out the decorations on the floor.

Siren and Michael worked together to put the decorations up as silently as they could. When they were finished, Michael was left holding a small box.

“Okay, you can look now!”

DD opened her eyes and when she saw all the red and green, she let out a gasp. Everything seemed to sparkle and she didn’t think she’d ever seen anything so beautiful.

“Oh, OH!” She exclaimed spinning around in a circle so she could see everything, “I love it! What does it mean?”

“It’s a holiday soon called Christmas,” Siren explained, “Everyone always decorates like this for the holiday.”

“What’s a holiday?”

“A day where no one works or does anything,” Siren answered.

DD nodded although she didn’t really understand it. “Thank you!” she cried out, “Thank you, Siren! Thank you, Mikey!”

Michael held out the box and Siren saw it was an Elf on the Shelf. DD cocked her head at the sight of the doll and Michael pulled it out of the box and held it out for her to see

“This is one of Santa’s elves,” Michael explained, “He goes-”

“What’s Santa?”

“Santa is a big fat red man who gives toys and candy to children who behave,” Michael explained.

“Candy?!” DD exclaimed in excitement.

“This elf works for Santa and he watches you to make sure you’re being good,” Michael explained, “He sits up here-”

Michael reached up and set the doll on top of the security camera.

“And if you’re naughty then he reports to Santa, and instead of toys, he eats you.”

“Michael!” Siren snapped, “Don’t tell her that! It’s Krampus who eats children, not Santa!”

DD’s eyes widened. “Krampus?” she repeated.

“He’s like the anti-santa who punishes all the bad kids,” Siren said dismissively, “He’s not real though otherwise MJ would have been long dead.”

Michael gave him a shove and Siren stumbled a bit , but he was still smirking at the other man in an infuriating fashion.

“Fine, Santa only handles the good kids,” Michael explained, “In two days he’ll bring you presents.”

“We have to go, but we’ll be back tomorrow to explain everything and tell you some Christmas stories,” Siren promised, “I can teach you some more Christmas carols too!”

“Okay,” DD agreed as the two men headed for the door, “Thank you for making my room pretty!”

Once they were gone, DD felt oddly on edge. Her gaze went up to the elf who grinned down at her in an unsettling way, and she noticed his eyes were trained directly on her. Slowly a frown made its way to her face. This elf decided if she got presents or got eaten… DD grimaced and then crawled into bed and covered her head with the sheets. When she peeked out the elf was still staring at her.

Siren and Michael hurried upstairs and just as they reached the apartment, Vess bumped into them in the hallway. Vess looked from Michael to Siren and then narrowed his eyes.

“Where were you two?” he demanded.

“Cafeteria,” Siren answered.

“Bathroom,” Michael said at the same time.

They exchanged a look and then glanced back at Vess who narrowed his eyes. Vess then heaved a sigh and then motioned towards the door.

“I’m too tired to deal with this right now. I don’t fucking care what you two were doing.”

The second Vess entered the apartment, he came to an abrupt halt and stared at the decorations in surprise. He then glanced back towards the door just to confirm he was in the right apartment. He was in the right place and so he slowly turned back around and looked at the hundreds of decorations inside. It looked like a department store had puked its Christmas section into his house, and he grimaced.

“Do you like it?” Michael asked him, “I wanted to make our Christmas extra special!”

Vess stared at Michael and then felt a migraine coming on.

“Michael, I am not celebrating Christmas! Just let it drop!”

Michael smiled at him and shook his head silently.

Vess sighed, rolled his eyes and then entered the apartment. Only two more days until this whole Christmas nonsense was over with.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

** **

Neal had never been so cold in his entire life. The bitter wind tore at him with every step he took, and he knew it was getting colder and colder with every minute. It was incredibly dark, and he depended on his flashlight as he struggled through the deep snow. 

Neal had never had very good circulation due to his EDS, and because he was so thin he couldn't maintain much body heat. He  **hated** being cold, and he hoped he’d be able to make it all the way to the cabin without freezing to death.

The snowstorm was going full-force and he could barely see a foot in front of himself, and the wind was so bitter that it seemed to blow right through the two coats he wore. 

Shaking uncontrollably as he walked, he ignored the aching pain the cold was causing his body, knowing there was nothing he could do about it. Dash and Crackle still hadn’t regained consciousness yet, but they felt warm and they were breathing normally and so Neal felt confident they were doing alright. Every step was a struggle, and Neal was glad for the snowshoes, knowing the snow was getting incredibly deep.

Neal’s lungs burned from the cold air and it made him feel like he couldn’t take a full breath. The choking feeling was terrifying, and he had to force himself to breathe very slowly and deeply to avoid being winded. He had the scarves tied around his face and neck, but the coldness still managed to seep through to bite at the skin. Neal had no idea what the temperature was, but had a feeling it wasn’t even safe to be outside right now. His shoulders and back burned in pain from the coldness, and Neal ignored it, not slowing his pace in the least.

Neal walked and walked, but he was moving slowly and wasn't making much ground. He had no idea how long he'd been fighting the storm, but he was quickly losing his confidence. Everything around him was dark and bleak, and he'd never hated the colour white as much as he did right now. Endless white that swirled around him, biting his skin and stealing his breath. The snowstorm was terrifying, and Neal was worried he wasn’t going to make it back.

The wind howled loudly around him, and the storm seemed to moan lowly in the distance. Neal assumed he was hearing distant avalanches, but it sounded like something straight out of a horror movie. His mind kept going back to the wendigos from Until Dawn and he cursed himself for freaking himself out. Anything at all could be hiding out in the snow, and Neal would never see it coming.

There was a low cracking sound from up ahead and Neal stopped walking. The sound stopped, and he glanced back at Dash and Crackle. They were still bundled up and safe and Neal frowned and then took another step.

There was another low groan and it sounded like a noise Neal had once heard on a ship. The sound of the wooden boards and beams bending had made a similar moan, but Neal knew there were no ships on the tundra. He took another few steps and there was another distant cracking sound. Neal once again stopped and looked down at the ground under his feet. The ground suddenly felt like it was shifting and a massive ‘CRACK’ filled the air. 

Neal gasped as he realized he was standing above a lake and the weight of the snow was causing the ice to break. Having no idea how far the water stretched, Neal did the only thing he could and continued onward, pulling his teammates with him. There were cracks and groans all around him, and Neal felt his heart pounding in absolute fear. If any of them ended up in the water, there’d be no surviving that. He could see massive chunks of ice rising and making the ground uneven, and Neal forced himself to walk faster and faster, just wanting to find his way off the ice.

There was the sound of splintering all around them and Neal could now see water in places as the several tons of snow broke through the ice. Feeling the painful strain, Neal began to run, forcing himself to keep going even when he was out of breath and tired. He kept going until the cracking was far behind him and then he sunk down to the ground to catch his breath. He checked on Dash and Crackle, and he was glad to find them perfectly warm. The parka as well as shared body heat was keeping them safe.

Tucking his hands under his armpits in an attempt to get some feeling back in them, he slowly stood back up, knowing he’d die if he stayed still too long.

Staring straight ahead through the whiteness of the storm, he thought he saw movement against the wind, but when he looked again, there was nothing there. Frowning, he continued on, the snow pressing in on him from all sides, and making him feel like he was being suffocated. He felt himself becoming anxious as the whole world seemed to be pressing in on him and Neal closed his eyes for a moment in an attempt to calm down. Neal had never been claustrophobic, but the way the storm was pressing in on him made him have flashbacks to the time he’d nearly died inside of a ventilation shaft. Opening his eyes, he continued onwards, trying his best to ignore the feeling of dread that settled in the pit of his stomach.

Neal had excellent stamina, but he wasn’t overly strong and the strain from pulling so much weight was beginning to take its toll. He knew his steps were slowing down and he had no idea if he was even going in the right direction anymore. Running across the ice lake had made him veer off course, and now he could be absolutely anywhere. His teammates' lives depended on him, and Neal forced himself onward, knowing very well stopping would mean succumbing to exhaustion and death.

Wincing from the pain the cold was causing his limbs, Neal kept his eyes straight ahead, searching in vain for any light in the distance. He saw nothing but white, and a wild, desperate feeling began taking hold of him. His every breath hurt, and his legs were threatening to collapse under him. How long had he been walking? He had no idea.

He once again saw movement ahead of him, but when he focused his vision, there was once again nothing there. Lifting his goggles for a moment to rub at his eyes, he hoped he wasn’t beginning to hallucinate from the cold. The eye that was missing the contact was pretty much useless at this point and so he kept it closed and used his one good eye to watch for any sign of light.

He walked and walked for what felt like an eternity, but there was nothing but white in every direction he looked. It felt completely hopeless, and Neal knew he was lost.

There was incredible pain as he felt his limbs beginning to get frostbitten. Neal grit his teeth against it, and concentrated on his steps, forcing himself to take one step after another. Once again Neal saw movement in front of him but when he looked there was nothing but a wall of white. Neal then paused as he saw something. No...there  **was** something there. He could see three black spots amongst the white and he focused on it. 

The black spots moved as he watched them, and Neal frowned, having no idea what he was looking at. He watched as they moved around him in a circle silently, and Neal wondered if he really  **was** hallucinating. The wind then blew wildly in an icy blast, and for just a second, he was able to see clearly. The three black spots were the nose and eyes of a polar bear. A polar bear who was staring directly at him.

Neal felt like his blood froze in his veins and he stopped dead in his tracks, simply staring at the nose and eyes in the wall of white. The bear was keeping its distance and Neal desperately hoped it was just curious and not hungry. Taking a deep and frightened breath, he once again began pulling, his whole body feeling like it was going to collapse any second. He kept his eyes on the bear who was circling him from about thirty feet away, and Neal knew it was very slowly getting closer.

“GO!” Neal yelled out, hoping to scare the bear. “GO ON! GET! GO AWAY!”

The bear didn’t seem concerned with the yelling and continued circling, slowly moving closer. Neal could no longer feel his legs and they shook with every step, his movements becoming slower and slower.

“LEAVE US ALONE!” Neal bellowed out, shooting a worried glance to his teammates. They were completely helpless, and would make a tempting target for a hungry bear.

The bear was now only twenty feet away and still circling them silently, black gaze never leaving Neal. Neal took another step and he stumbled and fell to his knees, his legs not wanting to cooperate. The bear stopped its circling and now stared silently at Neal like a grim reaper waiting for its chance to swoop in. Neal felt a desperate anger fill him, and he shrugged off the heavy backpack, wind instantly biting into his back painfully. Disconnecting himself from his teammates, he took a few deep breaths, and then opened the backpack and dug inside with numb fingers. Finding what he was looking for, he struggled to his feet and then stood over Dash and Crackle protectively.

Letting out a scream of anger and desperation, Neal turned on the crackle rod and brandished it at the bear who was slowly making its way towards him. Something primal brought out by the pain and fear of the situation made Neal simply scream at the bear furiously, ready to defend his friends no matter what. The bear stopped about ten feet away from him, and Neal realized the bear was a lot bigger than he’d thought. They maintained eye contact, and Neal knew the 1000 pound animal had the advantage on him.

"Go away bear,  **please** just go away," he begged.

Suddenly, without warning, the bear charged and Neal swung out the rod, the weapon sparking dangerously. Neal felt claws rake across his chest and he was thrown aside before the crackle rod could make contact and he crashed hard into the ground. His numb fingers dropped the rod and it slid away from him, and Neal looked up to see the bear sniffing at Dash and Crackle, pawing at the parka. His chest was in agony and the front of his clothes were torn, the cold wind seeping in to freeze the blood pouring out of the wounds.

“HEY!” Neal yelled, throwing handfuls of snow at the bear, “GET AWAY FROM THEM! STOP IT!”

The bear ignored him and Neal fought and struggled past his exhaustion and managed to get back to his feet, grabbing the crackle rod as he did so. He now had the bear’s attention and it reared up and let out a hideous roar that nearly made Neal freeze in his tracks. His gaze fell to his teammates and knew they’d be killed without him, and so he took an unsteady step forward, once again brandishing the crackle rod.

Neal screamed wordlessly back at the bear, and turned the weapon to its most powerful setting, stancing his body in preparation for the incoming attack. The bear let out another roar and then charged straight for him. The same moment that it bowled into him, Neal stabbed the crackle rod into his stomach. 

He felt the electricity course through him as the rod released its most powerful shock and the bear let out a scream of surprise and pain, and Neal was given a powerful shock before he fell away from the bear. He laid on the ground, his whole body shaking from the electricity and looked over and saw the bear was no better than him. 

Once he was able to move again, he rolled over and crawled his way over to the bear. The bear lashed out at him viciously, and Neal dodged around the claws as he went for the kill. Clutching the Crackle rod tightly in his hand, he stabbed it down into the bear’s chest as he activated it. The Crackle Rod gave the bear another powerful shock, and this time Neal held it in place since he wasn’t being electrocuted along with it. The bear let out another pained roar and Neal held the rod against the bear’s heart until it finally stopped moving. Neal shocked it a third time, and then a fourth just to make sure. The bear was definitely dead, and Neal felt like he was going to collapse.

Barely able to stand, he forced himself to stagger back over to his teammates. Falling to his knees beside them, he checked them over, and found they were completely unharmed. Letting out a breath of relief, he glanced back at the bear, and then reached a hand to his chest where it had clawed him. The cold had numbed the wound as it froze his blood, and he had a feeling it was probably pretty bad. The bear’s claws had been several inches long and incredibly sharp. Despite the claws, the teeth, and muscle, Neal had won.

Neal started to laugh in a manic fit, finding no humour in any of this, but unable to stop. He raised a hand to his head, his vision getting blurrier, and felt complete hopelessness consume him. He laughed and laughed and then looked straight up into the storm and screamed. He screamed until his voice was hoarse, and he had a feeling this was where he was going to die.

Neal had no idea where he was, and he was getting more and more tired by the second. He just wanted to sleep, but knew if he closed his eyes, it would mean death. He stared at the dead bear, knowing he couldn’t give up. He’d stared death in the face and won, and he knew he couldn’t let Dash and Crackle down like this. They were depending on them, and he needed them to live. Neal didn’t care if he died, but he wanted the others to live.

Taking a deep and unsteady breath, he forced himself back to his feet and staggered to the backpack. He dropped the crackle rod back inside, and then tried to lift it. His arms didn’t want to cooperate, and he couldn’t get the bag more than a couple feet off the ground. Having no other choice, he set the bag on top of his teammates, and then once again tethered himself to the ropes.

Clenching his jaw against the pain and exhaustion, Neal once again began pulling Dash and Crackle across the snow, trying to focus only on taking one step after another. His ripped coat took what little body heat he had and it wasn’t long before he couldn’t feel anything anymore. His body no longer felt the cold, and after a while he began feeling too hot. Was the temperature finally starting to warm up? His whole body felt like it was in a sauna and he was tempted to remove his coat in an attempt to get a bit of relief. It was hot, too hot, and Neal began sweating, wondering why the temperature had suddenly changed.

The wind was still howling around him, and Neal had a feeling that it was just as cold as before. That meant that there was something seriously wrong with him. Was this what it was like to freeze to death? Was he so cold that the signals were getting mixed up in his brain? Neal was too tired to put too much thought into this, and simply kept walking, his breathing becoming more and more ragged as he went on. He was so tired and numb that he could no longer feel anything at all and he had to keep looking behind him to make sure he was still dragging the others behind him.

Neal suddenly fell to his knees as he vomited and he gasped and coughed as his vision began spinning. Spitting a few times, he wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand and let out a miserable whine. He felt his eyes beginning to close, but then his thoughts went to his teammates, and he forced himself back to his feet.

He continued staggering his way through the storm, finding it harder and harder to keep his feet moving.

Suddenly Neal saw light in the distance. Blinking a few times to make sure his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him, he realized it was the cabin.

“Oh, thank god,” Neal whispered to himself, almost ready to cry in relief.

With renewed vigor, he headed for the light, ignoring everything else around him. Although his steps were slow, he was determined and kept pressing himself onwards, knowing they were almost to safety. He couldn’t feel the weight he was pulling or anything else or that matter, and his eyes were blurry and he was having difficulty focusing, his eyes closing against his will. He had to keep forcing his eyes open, and when he was finally at the cabin, he heard a voice call out to him.

Turning around, he saw the twins and Paper Star get out of a van that hadn’t been there before and run up to him.

“What happened?” Theodore demanded, kneeling down next to Dash and Crackle.

“We had a fall,” Neal found himself answering, feeling like it was someone else speaking, “They hit their heads, but they’re both warm and they’re both breathing.”

Theodore and Roosevelt each scooped one of the men into their arms, and then frowned at Neal.

“Team Red are here and they took over the cabin,” Paper Star informed him, “They’re not going to let us in until we surrender.”

Neal could not possibly care any less about the mission than he did at that moment, and reached out for the backpack. He staggered and Theodore caught him before he could fall.

“Neal?” he questioned in concern.

“Fine, love, just a bit tired,” he answered, barely able to force the words out.

Neal dragged the backpack behind him as he approached the cabin, the others simply watching him, wondering what he was going to do. When Neal was at the door, he raised a hand and knocked, the action causing his hand to feel like it was going to break. He heard someone approach the door, and a moment later the door opened to reveal Carmen standing there.

She stared at Neal who was covered head to toe in scarves and winterwear and she only knew it was him by his height.

“Yes, Neal?” she demanded, raising an eyebrow.

“Can we please come in?” Neal asked, his tone completely defeated.

“We will allow you in once you give us the artifact and surrender,” she told him, crossing her arms.

Neal pulled the backpack over. “It’s in the bag. Take it, I don’t care. Please just let us in.”

Carmen pulled the bag into the cabin and then closed the door. Neal continued standing there, waiting for her to verify the artifact was indeed in the bag and a moment later, she opened the door again.

“We will allow you in if you agree to a truce and behave yourselves,” she said firmly, “Betray this trust and you’ll find yourself tied up in the basement until the storm is over. Where is Crackle, and why isn’t he the one negotiating with me?”

“Dash and Crackle are hurt,” Neal informed her, just wanting to get them help, “We took a bad fall off the mountain.”

Carmen stepped out past him and glanced over and saw Double Trouble were holding their unconscious teammates. Instantly concerned, she waved them over.

“Bring them inside,” she ordered, stepping aside.

Neal stepped aside to allow Double Trouble to enter first, knowing that Dash and Crackle needed medical attention as soon as possible. Neal then realized his legs didn’t seem to want to move. Carmen glanced at him in question and Neal suddenly fell to his knees.

“Neal?” Carmen asked.

“Not even cold...just really tired,” he informed her.

El Topo who had been hovering nearby approached and knelt down beside him. “I’ll help you inside,” he said gently, “Come in.”

He wrapped an arm around Neal and helped him step inside the cabin. The warmth hit Neal like a freight train and suddenly his entire body felt like it was engulfed in flames. He let out a scream of agony and he fell to the floor, twisting and screaming at the fiery pain. Everyone turned to stare at him in shock and it was Shadowsan who strode forward, quickly realizing what was wrong.

“He has severe frostbite,” he said, kneeling down beside the villain, “Someone go soak a blanket in cold water as fast as possible!”

Chase ran off to do as he was told, and Shadowsan turned to Zack who was hovering nearby worriedly.

“We need to strip him, help me get these clothes off him right away.”

Zack nodded, and as Neal screamed and struggled in agony, they managed to strip him down to his undershirt and boxers. They saw the terrible wounds across his chest, but knew they would have to deal with that later. His skin being exposed to the heat only made the pain worse, and Neal screamed, certain he was going to die.

“Where’s that blanket?” Shadowsan shouted towards the kitchen. 

Chase came running, carrying a soaking wet blanket and Shadowsan quickly wrapped it around Neal, making sure to cover the villain’s entire body. The cold and wet blanket helped shield his body from the unbearable heat, and Neal began to still. The pain began to become somewhat bearable, and Neal sagged to the floor limply, his whole body shaking.

“But...shouldn’t we be trying to warm him up?” Zack asked in concern, “How is a freezing cold wet blanket going to help?”

“His body is so frostbitten that the sudden heat is causing damage to his capillaries,” Shadowsan explained, “We need to warm him up gradually to cause the least amount of damage.”

“What can we do?” Carmen asked in concern.

“As the blanket begins to warm up from the heat of the cabin, it will also warm up his body at a safe and slow rate,” Shadowsan explained, “Bring him into the living room, but not too close to the fireplace.”

Zack and El Topo lifted Neal and carried him into the living room where the others were tending to Dash and Crackle. Theodore was looking from one injured teammate to the next, having no idea what to do. Finally Carmen got annoyed at the twins being in the way and she ordered them to sit on the couch.

“What happened?!” Otterman demanded, kneeling down beside Neal, “What happened to them?”

“They took a fall and got severe frostbite,” Zack replied.

Neal was laid on the floor beside one of the couches where he curled in on himself shivering uncontrollably, his body now starting to get feeling back in it. All of Team Red had gathered in the living room, and they watched Carmen and Shadowsan began inspecting Dash and Crackle.

“He did an adequate job with the stitches,” Shadowsan observed, “and the cold would have helped prevent swelling on the brain.”

Carmen checked their eyes and was satisfied with what she saw. “I think they’re going to be alright once they warm up and their circulation improves. They received quite the nasty knock on the head.”

Shadowsan nodded his agreement. “There’s nothing we can do other than keep them warm and wait.”

“Dash died,” Neal gasped out from where he laid.

“Dash isn’t dead,” Carmen quickly assured him, “He’s just unconscious.”

Neal shook his head from underneath the blanket. “No, he wasn’t breathing when I found him and he didn’t have a pulse,” he explained, his voice barely audible, “I gave him a shot of epinephrine to get his heart started. Help him. Please.”

Carmen hurriedly looked Dash all over but didn’t see any other serious injuries. “How did you fall?” she asked, trying to figure out what could have caused this.

“Av-avalanche.”

Carmen frowned and turned to Shadowsan. “He could have smothered during the avalanche.”

He nodded, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “He’s breathing normally now, and as long as he doesn’t have brain damage, he shouldn’t be in any immediate danger.”

Dash and Crackle were shifted closer to the fireplace and both men were then wrapped up in several warm blankets.Theodore sat down on the floor beside Neal and pulled back the blanket a bit, worried Neal was going to smother. Neal’s eyes were closed and he shook and shook, his skin even paler than it normally was. Theodore rested Neal’s head on his leg, and then gave a wary look to Team Red.

“Please don’t throw us back outside.”

Tigress rolled her eyes. “Could you be any more thick, Theodore?  **Obviously** we’re not going to kick you out. Your team is kind of pathetic right now.”

Mime Bomb had been watching everything from the other side of the room, and his gaze lingered on Neal with a frown. He signed something at Zack who gave him a nod, and then the mime turned and left the room. A few minutes later he returned with several mugs of steaming hot chocolate and passed them out to the twins and Paper Star.

Neal’s eyes cracked open. “Where’s mine, love?” he asked in a pained voice, "I'm never one to turn down chocolate."

Mime Bomb gave him a nod and began heading back for the kitchen.

“Mime Bomb, cool it down until it’s barely warm.” Shadowsan instructed. 

Mime Bomb gave another nod, and just a few moments later he was back with another mug. Neal struggled to sit up, and Theodore helped him up, leaning the smaller man against him, the soggy blanket making him wet, but he didn’t seem to mind. Neal’s hands were shaking and so Theodore took the mug from Mime Bomb and placed it into Neal’s hands, keeping his hand on it just in case he dropped it. The barely warm mug felt too hot to Neal and he winced and then raised the mug to his lips to take a tiny sip. The warm hot chocolate felt like it was almost boiling and he sipped it incredibly slowly, and the heat it put in his stomach felt good.

Theodore was watching him in concern, his own hot chocolate forgotten about.

“You’re bleeding,” he pointed out.

“Oh my god, Neal your chest!” Otterman exclaimed, reaching towards him in concern.

Neal glanced down at his chest, the pain just starting to return. “Yeah, I may need a couple Advil or something for this…”

“What happened?” Theodore asked.

“Fought a bear.”

Theodore rolled his eyes. “You land on rocks when you fell?” he questioned.

“I fought a bear,” Neal repeated, “It was a big polar bear.”

Theodore sighed. “You can never be serious, Neal,” he complained affectionately, “Do you want to move closer to the fire yet?”

Neal hurriedly shook his head, and allowed Theodore to take the nearly empty mug away from him. Being next to the fireplace sounded awful right now. The hot chocolate was helping to warm him up a bit, but he didn’t want to chance the pain from before ever happening again. 

Shadowsan approached and held out two small white pills towards him. “Pills so you can sleep.” he told him.

Neal tried to take them, but his hands wouldn’t cooperate and so Theodore plucked them out of Shadowsan’s hand and then held them out towards Neal.

“Open your mouth,” he ordered.

Neal did as he was told and Theodore placed the two pills into his mouth and then held the mug up to his lips so he could wash them down. Neal hoped the pills would start to kick in soon because he was starting to feel all of his injuries and they were  **not** mild. Neal didn’t have to wait long, and just minutes later, he began feeling incredibly drowsy.

Leaning heavily against Theodore, he felt himself drifting into a very light sleep, his whole body sagging in exhaustion. He listened to the voices murmur around him, not fully asleep, but too tired to open his eyes or make sense of the words. After a time, he felt himself picked up into strong arms and a moment later he was laid down somewhere with a lot of warmth directly beside him. It was much too hot, but not enough to be painful. 

He let out a small noise of complaint, and then he felt hands removing his undershirt.

“I didn’t realize he was injured this badly!” Carmen said from above him.

“What an unusual injury,” Shadowsan commented, and Neal felt fingers touching his chest near the wounds, “It almost looks like enormous claw marks.”

“He must have fallen against a tree during the fall, and gotten scratched from the sharp branches,” Carmen said thoughtfully, “or maybe he landed on some sharp stones.”

“F-fought a bear,” Neal said, still too tired to open his eyes.

“Right, a bear,” Carmen said skeptically, “Do you think we’ll be able to stitch this up, Shadowsan?”

Neal felt the hands touching near his wounds again. 

“Yes, I believe I’ll be able to stitch this, but it’s going to leave scars.”

Neal must have fallen asleep for a few minutes because the next thing he became aware of was a needle piercing his skin. When he gave a surprised jerk, he felt several strong hands hold him down and he knew it was probably the twins.

“Is he awake?” Le Chèvre asked from nearby.

“Barely,” Shadowsan replied, “He is completely exhausted but probably in too much pain to fully sleep, even with the sedatives.”

“Can you give him something for the pain?” Otterman demanded in concern, “Do we have any painkillers.”

“I need to finish these stitches before he bleeds out,” Shadowsan replied, “I’ll get him some painkillers afterwards.”

Neal let out a groan of complaint as Shadowsan continued stitching the wounds closed, but couldn’t move since he was still being firmly held down. After what seemed an eternity, Shadowsan finally finished and then disinfected the wounds before placing several large bandages over them.

“Neal, are you awake?” Shadowsan asked.

Neal made a small sound in the back of his throat, but didn’t open his eyes. 

“He’s so pale that I can’t tell if this is his normal skin tone,” Shadowsan commented.

“It looks about right to me.” Theodore commented. “He’s not blue anymore.”

“Then we’ll let him rest and warm up,” Shadowsan replied.

“Are they going to be alright?” Otterman demanded.

“Only time will tell,” Shadowsan stated, “They need to rest as much as possible.”

Neal felt a thick and heavy blanket placed over him, and a second later there was a pillow under his head. Finally warm and comfortable, Neal drifted into a real sleep, his exhaustion taking over. He smiled in his sleep.

No one was dead.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**The next chapter should be posted in 2 weeks. Chapter 34-38 are all part of the Christmas fic re-write. Now that we know all the characters, nothing can be spoiled, and the fic has been re-written to include everyone in it. If you've already read the Christmas fic posted back in December, I'd still check out the next few chapters because a lot has been added. The Christmas fic re-write will be the next four chapters since a lot of new stuff happens in it!**

**The pics in this chapter are stock images from Google and I do not own them. **

.

**Credit for the names of Otterman and Moose Boy go to Animedemon01**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**

**Please don't forget to let me know what you think! **


	37. Reluctant Alliances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone!
> 
> Here you go, guys, have another chapter! Only one chapter left of the Christmas fic! Only 3 or 4 chapters left of Broken now! :)
> 
> An enormous thank you to the very awesome Violetfic and Coulrosaurus for offering plenty of good suggestions, and for being my betas! They both seriously offered SO many suggestions for this fic that they both deserve some recognition! You guys really helped improve this story a lot and you're awesome!
> 
> Please note that Dr. Vess and Michael Jr. both use the F-word extremely frequently in their everyday speech. You have been warned. Dr. Vess was created by Violetfic, and I am using him with her permission.
> 
> If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 37**

**Reluctant Alliances**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

“And so it appears that Yuri and Carmen are Volkovs as well,” Otterman concluded, glancing from one teammate to the next.

The twins and Moose Boy looked mildly confused, but Paper Star’s eyes were narrowed and it was obvious she didn’t believe it.

“We can confirm with blood tests once we’re back in San Diego,” Carmen suggested, “I want my team to do our own test just to make sure the results aren’t…”

“Tampered with?” Otterman finished, raising a brow.

Carmen gave him an apologetic look. “I just have to be sure,” she explained.

“I understand,” Otterman assured her, “We’ll be doing our own test as well.”

“None of you look alike,” Paper Star commented, her tone dangerous, “If this is some sort of scheme to hurt Sven, I will kill every single one of you.”

Everyone in the room turned to stare at her, and despite being outnumbered, her eyes were fierce and unafraid. Shadowsan narrowed his eyes and he prepared himself to defend Carmen if Paper Star decided to attack. Otterman placed a hand on Paper Star’s shoulder and offered her a smile and she glared for a moment before sighing and crossing her arms. 

“I will not cause problems unless your team starts it,” she promised, offering Otterman a small smile back.

Paper Star was getting to be incredibly attached to her found family, and she would never allow them to be manipulated or hurt if she could help it. Certain that she wasn’t going to start a fight, Otterman turned to Mime Bomb.

“What are our grandparents like?” Otterman asked a bit hesitantly.

Mime Bomb began signing and Zack dutifully translated. 

“Our grandmother is the sweetest person I’ve ever met,” Zack said, “She’s pretty much like a cartoon grandmother who bakes cookies and gives hugs. She even knitted me a Christmas sweater. You don’t have anything to be worried about.”

Having a grandmother like that almost seemed too good to be true and Otterman frowned. “And our grandfather?”

Mime Bomb hesitated as he tried to think of a way to describe Mikhael.

“Our grandfather is a very serious man, and he’s very set in his ways. He values tradition and family above all else, and he deeply regrets disowning Alexandria. He believes she’s dead, and he’s been desperate to find Carmen to make things right. He really does seem to mean well, but he’s a bit grouchy, and he comes across as a bit controlling. He’s been trying to talk me into enrolling into university for months now.”

Otterman had a feeling Mikhael was probably someone who was used to everything going his way. The man was in charge of a criminal empire for most of his life, and so naturally he’d expect his family to follow in his footsteps.

“I want to meet them…” Carmen hesitantly said, “I’ve never known any blood family, and I just want to meet them at least once.”

Otterman nodded his agreement. “I’ve never had a family who actually wanted me, and I’m curious as well…”

“Maybe the three of us could meet them together?” Carmen suggested hopefully, “Would you be willing to have a truce when it comes to family matters?”

Otterman hesitated and he glanced over at the rest of his team, his gaze lingering on the three men unconscious by the fire.

“I will agree to be civil and keep my work and personal life separate as long as you do the same. There will be no talk of missions, of V.I.L.E or anything of the sort. We will treat each other as family until the day one of you betrays my trust. I have very little trust in anyone and so you won’t use me in an attempt to get at the rest of my team.”

“And the same goes for you,” Carmen said firmly, “We’re on opposite sides right now and in order to make this work, we need to be able to trust each other.”

Otterman nodded his agreement, and Mime Bomb did the same.

“Are you able to tell me more about Vess’ lab or would that breach our agreement?” Otterman asked.

“No, you’re not involved in it, so I will share the information with you as long as this doesn’t get repeated.”

“We won’t say anything,” Otterman assured her, glancing over at the rest of his team for confirmation.

They sat on the couch quietly exchanging information about what they knew of the Volkovs as well as Vess’ lab for over two hours. Zack had gotten bored of their conversation, and he now flitted about the living room, decorating every surface he could with Christmas decorations.

“I can’t believe you brought all that with you,” Le Chèvre stated, rolling his eyes.

“Well, not  **all** of it’s mine,” Zack replied, pausing for a moment to glance over at him, “I think Neal had the same idea as me because he had four massive bags stuffed full of Christmas stuff.”

Carmen frowned at him, glancing around at Team Crackle who stared at Zack in surprise and suspicion. Paper Star narrowed her eyes, and Carmen quickly spoke up.

“Zack, I told you not to touch Team Crackle’s belongings!” she scolded.

Zack glanced over at the three men asleep beside the fire. “Well, it’s not like Neal can do it himself,” he pointed out, “I’m just helping the cabin be a bit more festive. He  **obviously** wanted to decorate too.”

“Zack, you can’t just take his things,” Carmen said firmly.

Theodore glanced all around at the tacky decorations and then spoke up. “Neal would love this,” he stated, “Let him keep decorating.”

Paper Star looked annoyed, but she had to admit this was true and gave a nod of agreement. “Neal would,” she confirmed, “The uglier and more tacky something is, the more he’d love it.”

“See!” Zack said, “Neal is hurt and it will make him feel better when he wakes up!”

Carmen gave him an amused look. “Alright, just don’t wake any of them up,” she advised.

Zack grinned at her and continued decorating, humming Christmas songs as he did so. He hung garlands everywhere he could, and he had more than enough decorations to cover every wall. Moose Boy was enthusiastically following behind Zack offering suggestions and trying to help and the boy was taking it in stride.

Le Chèvre and El Topo were sitting on the couch closest to the fire, holding hands and simply having a quiet conversation. Julia was reading a novel in one of the many armchairs, and Chase was tending to the three injured men. Chase was seated on the floor beside them and frequently checked their breathing and made sure they were warm enough. Neal was the most worrying of the three and he seemed to be in a lot of pain both from the frostbite and from the wounds on his chest. Although he was asleep, it wasn’t a restful sleep and he was twitching and moaning in discomfort.

Chase did his best to make Neal comfortable, but there wasn’t much he could do other than keep him covered up and close to the fire. Neal shifted in his sleep and one of his hands lashed out and hit Crackle straight in the face. 

It was then that Crackle jerked awake in a panic. Clapping a hand to his sore cheek, he sat up and blinked a few times, his mind feeling fuzzy and confused. He remembered some sort of danger, but his thoughts didn’t want to connect and he instinctively went into defensive mode. 

Taking note of his surroundings, his gaze fell on Team Red and then on Chase who reached out a hand towards him. Crackle lashed out and he knocked Chase away from him, taking the other man by surprise. Crackle’s head was absolutely pounding, and he winced as he raised a hand to his throbbing forehead. 

“Gray!”

Crackle looked up and then glanced down at the two men laying beside him. Crackle stared at Carmen warily, his mind still too confused to make sense of what was going on. His mind then realized that Neal and Dash were injured, and they were at the mercy of Team Red. Without hesitation, Crackle rolled to his feet, putting himself between Carmen and his injured teammates, ready to fight with everything he had.

Carmen saw the wild look in Crackle’s eyes and she had a feeling he wasn’t completely with it yet.

“Gray?” she questioned again, “Do you know where you are? You had an accident.”

Crackle said nothing, his gaze never leaving Team Red. He would fight to defend his injured teammates, and it showed in his eyes and so Carmen backed away and took a seat on the couch, showing him that she was no threat. She hoped he’d snap out of it after a few seconds, and then she could explain what had happened. 

When no one tried to attack him, Crackle gave another quick glance around and then noticed Double Trouble, Moose Boy, Otterman and Paper Star sitting nearby. They seemed safe for the moment, and so he ignored them in favour of the ones who couldn’t defend themselves. Not leaving Neal and Dash unprotected for even an instant, he shifted his stance a bit so he could look around the room. His gaze focused on Chase who was still sprawled on the floor, and Crackle narrowed his eyes. Chase was too close, and Crackle knew he had to eliminate the threat before he harmed his teammates. 

Carmen could see the way Crackle’s body was tensing, and she realized he was getting ready to fight. She quickly stood back to her feet to gain his attention, and sure enough his gaze immediately snapped over to her.

“Gray,” she said softly, “We’re not going to hurt you. You’re safe, your whole team is safe. Everything is going to be okay!”

Crackle glanced around and he grabbed a nearby fire poker and then brandished it, his mind trapped in the fog brought on by feeling like they were in danger. His head was throbbing in agony...Why did his head hurt?

“Chase, back away slowly,” Carmen ordered, “He’s confused.”

Chase eyed Crackle uncertainly for a moment, and he felt certain he could take the smaller man down if he had to. Carmen however didn’t have the same certainty and she motioned for him to move away. Respecting Carmen’s leadership, he very carefully backed away, aware that Crackle was watching him out of the corner of his eye the entire time he retreated. When Chase was far enough away to no longer be considered an immediate threat, Crackle focused entirely on Carmen.

Carmen glanced at the five other members of Team Crackle and saw they were simply watching everything in silence.

“How about a little help?” Carmen snapped at them, “Go to him. Calm Gray down before he hurts someone!”

The twins exchanged a look, and then Theodore got to his feet. Crackle glanced over at him as he approached, but his confused mind didn’t see Theodore as a threat, knowing he was family. He turned to face Carmen fully, trusting Theodore to protect his back as they fought. Roosevelt, Moose Boy and Paper Star also approached and Crackle relaxed a bit, fully believing he now had backup.

“Graham,” Theodore said softly.

Crackle turned his head at the sound of his name, and Theodore reached out and easily plucked the fire poker out of his hands. Crackle stared at him in confusion, and Roosevelt then seized him by the shoulders and gave him a hard shake, trying to snap him out of it.

“Graham. Stop it,” Paper Star ordered, “You don’t need to fight right now. We’re all safe here. Dash and Neal are in no danger.”

Crackle had no idea what was going on. Why was Roosevelt shaking him? Slowly rational thought began to come back to him and his body posture began to relax. He gave his head a shake, and then looked to Carmen, whose expression was nothing but concerned. Carmen wasn’t going to hurt them. Carmen would never do something like that.

Crackle took a deep breath to force himself to calm down, and he then looked up at Roosevelt, who still held him by the shoulders. 

“I’m okay,” Crackle assured him, “I just got a little bit confused. You can let me go.”

Roosevelt nodded and released him.

Crackle gave another glance around the room, this time his mind clear, and he realized Team Red must have rescued them from the avalanche. He knelt down beside Neal and Dash so he could check them over, ignoring Carmen for the time being. He carefully looked over Dash first, frowning in concern at the head wound. He checked Dash’s pupils and was relieved to see they reacted normally to light, and there didn’t seem to be any obvious signs of brain trauma. He couldn’t find any other injuries, besides a few bruises, and so he turned to Neal. 

Neal’s whole body was covered in tiny blisters and bruises from the cold, and when he gently lifted up the bandages on his chest to take a look, he saw several terrible wounds that had been stitched. He checked Neal’s pupils who shifted away from him, clearly just sleeping and not unconscious like Dash. He was incredibly concerned at the serious injuries, and was relieved Neal seemed to be in stable condition. 

“Are any of you hurt?” Crackle demanded, glancing over at his other teammates.

They silently shook their heads.

“Double Trouble, grab Neal and Dash, we’re leaving.  **Immediately** .”

“Gray, you can’t leave,” Carmen told him, keeping her voice calm, “It’s negative 50 degrees celsius ouside and still storming. You need to stay.”

Crackle gave her a narrow-eyed gaze. “Why? You’re keeping us as prisoners?”

“Don’t be foolish, Gray, we’re all trapped here,” she explained, “The storm is far too bad to leave, and you three need time to recover. You received a really nasty knock to the head.”

Crackle raised a hand to his head and then winced as his fingers found his injury. Keeping a wary eye on Carmen, he took a few steps over to the nearby window and pulled aside the curtains. The storm was now so bad that it was a complete whiteout, and Crackle frowned, knowing Carmen was right. They had no choice but to stay.

“What happened after the avalanche?” he demanded, turning his attention back to Carmen, “How did you find us?”

“We didn’t,” Carmen replied, “It was Neal who got you safely back to the lodge.”

Crackle glanced over at Neal in surprise.

“They’re safe here,” Carmen again assured him. “Neal and Dash are going to be just fine. Let’s have a conversation about all of this, and I’ll tell you what happened.”

Crackle narrowed his eyes at her, but knew he had no choice. “Fine,” he told her. 

Carmen patted the couch beside her, and Crackle’s response was to back up a step so he was standing protectively over Neal and Dash instead. Carmen rolled her eyes, wondering if Crackle would ever stop being angry at her for what happened. 

Carmen knew Crackle had seen her actions as a betrayal of trust when Neal and Dash had been her team’s prisoners. Once he calmed down a bit, she would try to discuss it with him and hopefully he would forgive her for what happened.

“Gray, you were-”

“Not  **you** ,” Crackle snapped, “I won’t believe a word you say. I will ask my team and you will keep your lying mouth shut!”

Carmen stared at him in surprise and couldn’t help but feel a little hurt at his words. This was going to take a ** lot** of work to mend things between them...

“What happened?” Crackle demanded, turning his gaze to his team, “The last thing I remember is being hit by an avalanche.”

“You and Dash received head injuries from your fall, and you’ve been unconscious for hours,” Otterman began explaining calmly.

“But how did we get here?” Crackle asked, “Did Team Red have anything to do with this? Carmen Sandiego said it was because of Neal?”

“It  **was** Neal,” Theodore confirmed.

Crackle glanced over at him.

“He dragged you both the whole way back to the cabin,” Paper Star commented, “He nearly froze to death.”

Crackle reached down and pulled back the blankets so he could take a better look at Neal. He touched his hand gently to a patch of Neal’s frostbitten skin, causing Neal to make a small noise of complaint in his sleep. Neal had painful looking blisters all over his chest and limbs, and something didn’t sit right about this with Crackle. 

Crackle looked down at himself and inspected his own arms and hands, and saw no signs of frostbite at all. He then looked Dash over carefully, and saw he didn’t have frostbite either.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Crackle said in confusion, “Neal had the warmest clothes out of  **any** of us, but  **he’s** the only one with frostbite...”

“Neal took off his parka and wrapped the two of you in it,” Theodore explained, “He had to walk all that way with a torn coat and he nearly froze to death.”

Crackle looked down at Neal, realizing the other man had willingly gotten frostbite just to keep them safe. This was such a Neal thing to do that Crackle didn’t doubt Theodore’s words in the least. Neal had time and time again put the safety of his teammates above his own, and he’d been injured severely multiple times in the past because of this. 

“Neal…” Crackle said softly, placing a hand on his head.

Neal had a selfless streak a mile wide, and Crackle knew that Neal probably  **never** should have been a villain in the first place. The man was gentle, loyal, and honest, and these were not traits that V.I.L.E normally tolerated. How Neal managed to slip through the cracks was beyond him, but he was selfishly glad the other man was on his team. Neal had saved their lives.

Crackle gave a fond look to the unconscious man, knowing Neal probably didn’t even think his actions were a big deal. Crackle gently touched a really bad patch of frostbite in concern, and Neal let out another pained noise.

“Neal, you’re a dumbass,” he whispered, pulling the blankets up to better cover the other man.

“L-love ya too Graham Cracker,” Neal mumbled, not opening his eyes.

“Neal, you shouldn’t be awake,” Crackle scolded, “You’re injured!”

“Then stop poking my frostbite,” Neal responded, cracking open his eyes a slit.

Seeing Neal was awake, Carmen quickly got up to approach, but Crackle quickly blocked her from getting too close, expression warning.

Carmen abruptly stopped, and then looked down at Neal. “How are you feeling?” she asked in concern, “Are you warm enough?”

“Never felt better,” Neal mumbled, barely awake. 

“You need to sleep,” she told him. “Do you want a couple painkillers?”

“He’s not taking  **anything** from you,” Crackle snapped, “Keep your distance from us and we’ll do the same for your team. We have no choice but to stay here until the storm is over, but we will  **not** be interacting with you.”

Neal winced a bit in pain, and then turned his head to look at Dash. “Fancy still not awake?” he croaked out in concern, “Is he still breathing? We need to check that he’s breathing.”

“He’s resting like  **you** should be,” Crackle scolded, “Honestly Neal, you could have died out there. You should have just let us get frostbite instead of risking yourself like that. You pulled us all that way without your parka, and with an injury to your chest!”

Neal was clearly struggling to stay awake, his eyes now barely open. “Naw, love, the injury happened during our very pleasant stroll back to the cabin, not before.”

Crackle furrowed his brow. “What happened? Did you take a fall?”

Neal gave him a proud smirk. “I fought a polar bear and won... Didn’t Ukiuk say this makes me pure of heart?”

Neal laughed weakly and smirked up at Crackle.

“I fought Nanuk and won!”

Crackle returned the smirk in amusement. “Oh? Was it at least a  **big** polar bear?”

Neal frowned, realizing Crackle didn’t believe him. “Yeah, it  **was** , actually,” he snapped, eyes drifting closed, “Asshole bear tried to eat Dash. It must have sensed the bitchiness.”

“I’m going to move you up to your bedroom,” Crackle told him, “You’ll be more comfortable in bed.”

Neal immediately shook his head, his eyes opening to glance back to Dash. After what happened on the tundra, he was terrified Dash was going to stop breathing the moment no one was looking. The thought of Dash dying needlessly put a worried feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he didn’t want to leave him.

“No, I’m staying here.”

“No, you’re not,” Crackle responded firmly, “We’re all going to wait out the storm in our rooms away from... **them** .”

Neal shook his head again and slowly edged closer to Dash. “He died, Graham. Dash died.”

Crackle quickly checked Dash, but found him breathing steadily. “What are you talking about?” he demanded, “Dash hasn’t died, he’s fine!” 

Neal didn’t answer, already asleep again.

“Neal told us that Dash stopped breathing after the avalanche and had to be revived,” Carmen told him.

Crackle stared with wide eyes down at Dash, and quickly gave him a more thorough look-over. He didn’t find any life-threatening injuries but it still left him feeling worried. He couldn’t imagine what Neal had gone through out there, and he hoped Dash was going to be okay. He gently brushed Dash’s hair aside and looked over the injury with a frown. They had no access to a doctor out here, and they’d have no idea if there was any brain damage until Dash woke.

“I’m going to need one of the twins to help me secure our rooms away from the... **others** ,” Crackle said, “We’ll move our rooms away from them.”

“Relax, dude,” Ivy said with a roll of her eyes, “Our rooms are on the third floor and nowhere near you guys.”

“We thought it best to give your team a bit of space,” Carmen said, hoping this would relax Crackle a bit.

Crackle stared at her with narrowed eyes. “I will still check our rooms to make sure it’s safe for Neal and Dash,” he stated.

“Um, Graham?” Otterman said, sounding a bit hesitant. 

Crackle turned to look at him and for the first time noticed he was sitting with Mime Bomb and Carmen.

“Sven, get away from them,” he ordered.

“There’s something you need to know…” Otterman said, glancing at his cousins.

Crackle frowned, wondering if Team Red had done something to Otterman while they were away. Otterman had been left helpless at the lodge and who knows what had happened.

“What is it?” Crackle demanded, noticeably bristling.

Otterman could see how reactive Crackle was at the moment and felt like maybe it was best to tell him everything away from the others.

“I need to speak with you in private,” Otterman told him, “I’ll come upstairs with you, and then we can talk.”

Crackle shot an accusing glare at Carmen and subtly looked Otterman up and down for signs of injury. His eyes fell on hand-shaped bruises around his throat, and Crackle felt his anger reach murderous levels. Team Red had attacked and injured a man who was legally blind.

“Sven, over to me  **now** !” Crackle said in such a furious tone, that Otterman didn’t hesitate to do as he was told.

The second he neared Crackle, the other man reached over to inspect the bruises on his neck.

“They did this to you,” Crackle growled in a dangerous tone.

“We need to talk,” Ottermna insisted, trying to avert a disaster, “Come upstairs with me and I’ll tell you everything.”

“You attacked Sven,” Crackle accused, his glare aimed straight at Carmen, “He was no threat to you and you attacked him!”

Otterman quickly took Crackle by the hand and gave him a hard tug towards the door, taking the Aussie by surprise.

“Graham, I need to talk to you!” he insisted, “ **Now** !”

Crackle stared at Otterman searchingly, and then glanced around the room at the rest of his team.

“All of you are to protect Neal and Dash!” Crackle ordered, “Don’t take your eyes off our enemies for even a moment! Paper Star, you’re in charge while I’m gone.”

Paper Star nodded, and Crackle knew his team could be trusted. He allowed Otterman to pull him away, and the second he was gone, Zack turned to Carmen.

“Yeah, I don’t think that guy needed any more brain damage,” he commented, touching the spot on his head where Crackle’s injury was.

“Zack, don’t be mean,” Ivy scolded, “The guy can’t help that V.I.L.E messed with his head!”

“I just wish he would listen to me,” Carmen said with a disappointed sigh, “When are we going to stop fighting? I’m so tired of all the fighting...”

“Probably never,” Paper Star responded with a shrug, “Graham hates you, and we will always support him.”

“I just want us to get along!” Carmen insisted, “I don’t want to be enemies!”

Paper Star gave another shrug.

“Well, I’m gonna keep decorating,” Zack commented, removing another armful of garlands from one of the duffle bags.

Everyone watched him as he began once again hanging the garlands around the room, and after a few minutes, Zack realized he couldn’t reach the top of the large windows where he wanted to hang it. He gave a glance over at Theodore and gave him a friendly smile.

“Hey, Teddy, I can’t reach. How about a little help?”

Theodore gave him a nod, and then got up to help. Zack was expecting him to take the garland from him and hang it himself, but to Zack’s surprise, Theodore reached out, grabbed him around the middle, and lifted him high into the air high so he could reach.

Zack glanced down at the huge man and laughed. “Er...thanks Teddy.”

Once he was back on his feet, Zack reached into the box of decorations and held out a santa hat.

“Here you go, Teddy, get into the Christmas spirit!”

Theodore stared at the hat in confusion for a moment, and then to everyone’s surprise he put it on. “What can we do now?” he asked, looking around the room, “We don’t have a tree, and I didn’t see any outside”

Zack frowned. “I know,” he said in obvious disappointment, “There aren’t a lot of trees this far up North.”

Theodore looked thoughtful for a moment, and he stared at the bag filled with garland. “Can we make one out of the garland?” he suggested, “Christmas just won’t be the same without a tree.”

Zack’s eyes widened in delight, not even considering that. “Yeah! That’s a really great idea, Teddy! Let’s grab the coat rack and make a tree out of it!”

Everyone was amused as they watched the two men rush to grab the nearby coat rack. Everyone knew Crackle definitely wouldn’t approve of them interacting like this, but no one commented. As Theodore started work on creating the ‘tree’ out of garland, Zack continued digging through the bags of decorations. He pulled out another santa hat and immediately put it on with a wide grin. 

Zack then pulled out a headband with sparkly reindeer antlers, and a sudden look of revelation and pure delight crossed his face. He then approached Dash and knelt down beside him, carefully placing the antlers on the villain’s head.

“Zack, stop that!” Carmen hissed at him, glancing at Team Crackle warily, “Leave Dash alone!”

Zack looked up at her imploringly. “But, Carm!” he protested, pointing to the antlers, “Dasher!”

Carmen couldn’t stop the snort that escaped her. Team Crackle were clearly just as amused as her, and Paper Star shook her head with a smirk.

“Keep it,” she ordered, finding it far more amusing than she probably should have.

“Awesome,” Zack responded, adjusting the antlers until they were straight.

Zack then pulled out his phone and snapped a quick picture, knowing that there was no way Dash would leave those antlers on once he woke up.

“S-send that to me, please?” Neal suddenly asked, his voice sounding pained and incredibly tired.

“Go to sleep Neal,” Theodore scolded from where he was working on the ‘tree’.

“I-I want that pic,” Neal begged, his eyes once again closing, “G-give me that pic…”

Neal went quiet again and Carmen had a feeling Dash was not going to be very happy when he woke up. Neal’s hand was now resting on Dash’s chest as if he was making sure the other man was still breathing, and Carmen doubted Neal was fully asleep. 

“How can we possibly go to sleep in this cabin tonight?” Le Chèvre demanded, “Crackle is making it no secret that he despises us. He’s going to murder us in our sleep.”

“Graham would never be that cowardly,” Paper Star snapped, “That’s more like something I would do.”

“...that is not all reassuring,” Le Chèvre responded.

“Do the doors lock?” Chase demanded.

“We’re all trained thieves,” Tigress pointed out, “A lock would do nothing to keep any of us out. Even someone as pathetic as Otterman could pick something as simple as a door lock.”

“Hey!” Moose Boy protested, “Don’t pick on Sven!”

Mime Bomb frowned thoughtfully and then signed something. Zack nodded at him and then translated.

“He said that perhaps Sven will be able to smooth things over with Crackle?”

Carmen scratched at her chin thoughtfully. “Gray does seem to trust Sven, and so maybe he can talk him into a temporary truce?”

Mime Bomb signed again. 

“Can we trust Sven?”

“Seriously?” Paper Star snapped, “You’re asking this right in front of us?”

Mime Bomb did have the good grace to look a bit sheepish, but his gaze was still on Carmen.

“I trust him,” Carmen said firmly, “Everything he told us makes sense and Sven seems like a very genuine person. I can’t imagine this was all a trick, especially since he’s shared so much information with us.”

Mime Bomb nodded, and accepted her judgement.

Tigress however, did not. “I’m sorry, but you’re not exactly the best judge of character,” she pointed out, “You were the one who walked right up to Vess expecting to be best friends.”

Carmen recoiled like she’d been slapped.

“I’m sorry, but you did fucking  **what** ?!” Crackle demanded from the doorway.

Everyone turned to look at him, but his gaze was entirely on Carmen.

“Did I just mishear that?” he demanded, “You tried to befriend the most evil, demented person to ever ooze their way into V.I.L.E?!”

Carmen’s entire face turned scarlet. “I...I didn’t realize what kind of person he was,” she replied, “I thought there was hope for him…”

Crackle couldn’t believe it and he shook his head. “When I heard you got shot by Vess, I assumed it was during a fight, not that you literally just walked right up to him! How stupid could you be?!”

Carmen was completely ashamed of how foolish she’d been and she averted her gaze. “It will be a mistake I’ll  **never** make again!” she vowed, “Although I said I trust Sven to be telling the truth, I will still require proof. Vess taught me a hard lesson, and I’m never going to leave myself so vulnerable again!”

“I will require proof as well,” Crackle said firmly, “I don’t believe a word of this cousin nonsense, and you and I will be discussing this later. I’m going to move Neal and Dash to bed, and then we will be having a very long chat.”

Crackle approached Neal and Dash and knelt down beside them, and then frowned at the reindeer antlers on Dash’s head.

Crackle let out a sigh. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Neal, leave Dash alone,” he scolded, removing the antlers. “You should be resting, not torturing Dash.”

Neal gave no reaction, and so Crackle glanced over at Theodore who was still making the tree. “What are you doing?” he asked in confusion.

“Decorating for Christmas,” Theodore responded, “I wanted us to have a tree and so I’m making one!”

“We’re not staying down here, so there’s no point in doing that,” Crackle responded, “Now come help me carry Neal and Dash upstairs.”

The twins both approached and Roosevelt went to pick up Neal, but Neal tightened his grip on Dash’s shirt, refusing to let go. Theodore tried to gently pry Neal’s hand away, but Neal tightened his hold even more, and Theodore couldn’t get him to let go. Neal’s eyes were still closed, and Crackle frowned at this unusual behaviour.

“Neal, let go of Dash,” Crackle ordered, not even certain the other man was awake.

Crackle yanked at Neal’s hand, but his grip was like steel and couldn’t be broken. Neal had the best grip out of anyone in the group, and Crackle knew he’d never be able to make him let go without hurting him.

“I think he’s worried about Dash,” Theodore said, brushing Neal’s hair out of his face. “And I think he’s scared Dash is going to die again. Just let them stay together, Graham.”

Crackle furrowed his brow, staring down at the two unconscious men, worried and not quite sure what to do.

“Can you carry both of them, Roose?”

Roosevelt let out an offended snort, and scooped both men into his arms without a word. Neal made a face as his frostbite rubbed against the rough fabric of Roose’s sweater, but his eyes remained closed. 

“Alright, everyone is to stay in their rooms unless otherwise told,” Crackle ordered, “No speaking to or going near Team Red whatsoever without permission.”

Motioning for his team to follow, Crackle led them upstairs, giving one last glare to Carmen as he did so. Once they were gone, Carmen let out a deep sigh of exasperation.

“Well, this is going to be an awkward Christmas,” Zack commented. “Should we stay here for when Crackle comes back down to talk to you?”

“No, I think it should just be the team leaders who speak about this,” Carmen said, “I want to explain everything to him and see if we can come to any sort of agreement.”

“I will be remaining,” Shadowsan said, his tone non-negotiable, “I will give you space and remain over here, but I am not allowing you to be alone in the room with him.”

Carmen simply nodded and then looked over at the rest of her team. “It’s late. You guys should get to bed.”

“I am putting the dresser in front of our door,” Le Chèvre commented, “I suggest the rest of you do the same.”

Team Red exchanged a few looks, and they nodded, knowing it wouldn’t hurt to be overly cautious. As they got to their feet, Tigress threw an arm around Le Chèvre’s shoulders.

“I stole a fancy bottle of whiskey out of Team Crackle’s bags,” she whispered, “You want to partake?”

Le Chèvre glanced to El Topo who was frowning in disapproval.

“Most definitely,” Le Chèvre responded.

Tigress grinned widely. “Great! I’ll meet you guys in your room in a few minutes!”

As the team began leaving the room, Julia turned her gaze to Carmen, not sure what she could do to help. She could see how the other woman was stressed and tired looking, but Julia knew this was something Carmen just needed to work out with Crackle. Julia didn’t know Crackle, and she hadn’t met him before V.I.L.E mind-erased him, and so she had no idea what he used to be like. She knew he and Carmen were close, and that Carmen missed him terribly, but there was no advice she could offer in this situation.

“We’ll be right upstairs if you need us,” Julia said, patting Carmen on the shoulder.

Carmen smiled up at her. “Thanks, Jules, but I should be fine.”

“Good night, Carmen,” Julia told her, exchanging a look with Shadowsan.

Shadowsan would protect Carmen and she felt confident the other woman would be fine.

“Night, Jules.”

The wait was excruciating, and Carmen kept shifting about on the couch as she waited for Crackle to come back down. It was nearly twenty minutes later when she heard footsteps on the stairs, and when Crackle entered the room, he looked much calmer than before. He took a seat on the couch across from her and then crossed his arms.

“You’re claiming to be Sven’s cousin,” Crackle began, his eyes narrowed.

“We’re not completely certain until we can get blood tests done, but right now that seems to be the case.”

“There are over seven billion people on this planet and you honestly expect me to believe that all four Volkov cousins just happened to find each other?”

Carmen herself was in disbelief at how unlikely this was and she gave him a hesitant nod. “I do find it incredibly suspicious,” she admitted, “I think there’s something else at work here…”

Crackle raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“All four of us can be linked to V.I.L.E,” she explained, “Sven and Mime Bomb were both recruited for V.I.L.E and Michael Jr was denied entry but kept anyway in Vess’ lab. Why would they do that? Why would they keep someone who wasn’t even good enough to make it past the entrance exams?”

Crackle frowned but he didn’t interrupt.

“I was raised as part of V.I.L.E from the time I was a baby, despite the fact that V.I.L.E do not allow children in their organization. Why was an exception made for me, and only for me? Many female operatives have had babies and none of them were allowed to keep the child. I was no different than any of those other children.”

Crackle narrowed his eyes as he considered this and he realized Carmen had a point. All four of the Volkov cousins were connected to V.I.L.E in some way.

“It is my belief that V.I.L.E was collecting the Volkov heirs, but I have no idea why.”

Carmen glanced over at Shadowsan as she said this who immediately shook his head.

“No, I was the one who brought you back from Argentina,” he explained, “No one ordered me to do that.”

“But why did they decide to keep me?” Carmen challenged.

“They saw potential in you, and decided to raise you to be the perfect thief,” Shadowsan responded.

“I was a year old baby,” Carmen pointed out, “What potential could they possibly see in me at that age?”

“You were the child of Dexter Wolfe, and you stole Dr. Bellum’s pocket protector right from under her nose…”

Even as Shadowsan said it, his eyes widened in realization.

“A baby grabbing at things while someone is distracted is  **not** that unique or unusual…” Shadowsan admitted.

“Who wanted me to stay?” Carmen demanded.

“Coach Brunt seemed very interested in the idea from the very moment she saw you…” Shadowsan admitted, “She was the one who said you were a natural born thief and put the idea of you staying in the other faculty’s heads… I didn’t even question it...why didn’t I question it?” Shadowsan frowned, seemingly confused at this. “Back then I just believed every word the head faculty told me. I was foolishly loyal back then… I believed them, despite the fact I was planning on defecting. I don’t know why I didn’t question it...”

“You were a young operative,” Carmen assured him, “You didn’t have the experience you do now.”

“I was just a first year operative when they made me head faculty and so I didn’t have much V.I.L.E experience.”

Crackle leaned forward. “Wait, they made you a head during your first year?!”

Shadowsan nodded. “They stated that I proved my worth during the Dexter Wolfe mission and they made me the 5th head.”

Carmen’s eyes widened and she exchanged a look with Crackle who mirrored the look. 

“Shadowsan...doesn’t that seem...unwise?”

Shadowsan was now looking at the situation as an outsider and he had to agree. Every other head had  **years** of experience, but he was a new graduate. 

“Can you picture an operative getting promoted to head faculty just for completing one run-of-the-mill mission?” Carmen asked.

Shadowsan went silent and he furrowed his brow, getting more disturbed the more he thought about it. Why had he never questioned this before? He felt a dull ache behind his eyes as he thought about it and he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It makes no sense,” he agreed.

“If the blood tests confirm all three of us are related, then I’m going to be investigating this thoroughly,” Carmen promised, “V.I.L.E has to be in some way responsible.”

Crackle nodded his agreement, not trusting this situation whatsoever.

“If Sven is my cousin, I want to get to know him,” Carmen told him, “I don’t want us to be enemies anymore…”

“You want him to join your team,” Crackle said, his tone quickly turning angry.

“I want our teams to join together,” Carmen responded, “I want all of us to be on the same side, and I want to finally make things right between us.”

“Not a chance,” Crackle responded immediately.

“You’re no longer with V.I.L.E, so I don’t understand why we shouldn’t join forces,” Carmen insisted.

“ **No** .”

“I understand that I made some terrible mistakes and I want to mend things between us. I’m so sorry for what I did to Neal and Dash and I  **deeply** regret it. I was being selfish and shortsighted and I made so many bad decisions. Kidnapping your teammates was a stupid way to make you talk to me, and I will never do something like that again. I ignored the danger Dash was in because I didn’t want to admit to myself that I had made a mistake. I was clinging onto my plan like a fool and both Neal and Dash paid the price. I’ve done a lot of growing up lately, and I’m ashamed of what happened between our teams. I owe both Neal and Dash a sincere apology, and I owe you one as well.”

Crackle looked skeptical and suspicious, but he allowed her to continue.

“I’ve had to do a lot of growing up over the past few months, and I’m embarrassed of the way I behaved. I was thinking of our friendship at the academy, but we’re both different people now. You don’t remember me, and I couldn’t accept it. Instead of attempting to get to know the new you, I kept trying to force our old friendship. We’re no longer kids, and this is a different world. I will respect your choice if you don't want to be friends, but I hope we can still call a truce.”

Crackle was silent and he shifted a bit on the couch, and when he looked up there was still anger in his eyes.

“Care to explain to me where the bruises on Sven’s throat came from?” he demanded.

Carmen winced, and Crackle sneered.

“Empty words from an empty mind,” he snapped, “Every time our teams meet, one of my team is injured. None of you can be trusted!”

“I was the one who injured Otterman,” Shadowsan stated, “When he revealed his relationship to Carmen and Mime Bomb, I was certain it was one of V.I.L.E’s tricks. I overreacted, but this was no fault of Carmens.”

“It absolutely was,” Crackle shot back, “She has no control over her own team, and it’s pathetic. I’m the leader of my team, and  **none ** of my team would  **ever** overstep in such a way. Your team doesn’t respect you and it  **shows** .”

Shadowsan stood to his feet angrily and Crackle did the same.

“You have no right to speak to her that way!” Shadowsan scolded, “She’s done more in her life that you ever hope to accomplish!”

“Her team consists of undisciplined children and a bitter old man,” Crackle snapped, “Our team will never merge with yours!”

“And your team are all murderers and scoundrels!” Shadowsan shot back, “I have no idea why Carmen still wishes to work with you!”

“Shadowsan that’s  **enough** ,” Carmen said firmly, “Sit back down.”

Carmen had never taken that tone with him before and he glanced over at her in surprise. Her hands and teeth were both clenched and her face was completely scarlet. Shadowsan realized she’d been humiliated, and not wanting to add to it, he obediently took his seat again.

Crackle glared at Shadowsan and he remained standing.

“I apologized to Sven for the way he was treated, and I did speak to Shadowsan about it,” Carmen informed him, “I don’t believe you’re judging me fairly - You’re doing it out of anger.”

Once again Crackle said nothing.

“Our two teams have no choice but to coexist in this cabin until the storm calms down,” Carmen informed him, “You’ve made it clear that you’re not interested in talks of a merge and so I will respect that. I would like to insist on a temporary truce however.”

Crackle looked skeptical.

“No one from my team will attack anyone on your team and vice versa,” Carmen said firmly, “We will agree to a truce until we’re out of danger and back to civilization. Is this a deal?”

Crackle glanced towards the window where all he could see was white outside. They would not be going anyway for a least a day if not two.

“Fine,” he agreed reluctantly, “My team will not make the first move, but we will defend ourselves if necessary. You’d better make sure you have your team under control because we will  **not** be giving you a second chance.”

“I will make sure my team understands,” Carmen promised him.

Crackle didn’t look happy over it, but he nodded. “And I suppose you’ve already taken the star?”

Carmen raised a brow. “We have,” she confirmed.

Crackle let out a huff, knowing there was likely little chance of getting it back without a full-blown fight between the teams and he as well as Neal and Dash were still injured. Team Red would win that fight, and it wasn’t worth the risk.

“Our team will avoid your team at all costs and I don’t want any of you trying to interact with us,” Crackle ordered, “We will share any food or supplies during the time we’re trapped here, but we’re not friends, and we’re not joining you.”

Carmen let out a deep sigh and then nodded. At least it was progress…

“I agree,” Carmen stated.

“I want to speak with Sven in the morning and then I will likely have more questions for you,” Crackle told her, “For now, I’m going to bed, and I want to be left alone.”

“I understand,” Carmen assured him, “No one will bother you.”

Crackle glared at Shadowsan and Carmen one last time and then turned to leave. His gaze immediately fell on Otterman and Mime Bomb who were watching from the top of the stairs.

“Sven,  **room** !” Crackle ordered, giving him a warning glare.

Although Otterman couldn’t see the look he was being shot, he could hear the tone and he scrambled up and quickly disappeared from sight. Carmen stared at Mime Bomb who gave her a sheepish look at having been caught eavesdropping. Carmen sighed and then waved him over. Mime Bomb got up from where he was crouched and came down the stairs, passing by Crackle who gave him a frown of disapproval. Crackle went upstairs and the moment he was gone, Carmen turned to Mime Bomb.

“You heard all that, didn’t you?” she questioned.

Mime Bomb nodded.

Carmen tossed an arm around his shoulders and let out another sigh. 

“I wish I could just make him understand…”

Mime Bomb draped an arm loosely over his shoulders in return, simply offering his silent support.

“I’m glad you’re my cousin,” Carmen told him, “I already loved you like family, and now we found out we really  **are** family!”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Dash was feeling warm and comfortable, and he just wanted to sleep more. His bladder had other ideas however, and it let him know aggressively that it had been a  **very** long time since he had last gone. He laid there sleepily for a few minutes longer, but he quickly realized there was going to be a very embarrassing disaster if he didn’t immediately get up. Raising a hand to his sore head, he winced, not remembering what had happened. 

Slowly opening his eyes, he really didn’t want to move, but knew he ** had** to. He was tired,  **so** tired…

Dash then became aware that he was being touched by someone, and glanced down to see Neal pressed up beside him, clinging to his shirt, and snoring loudly.

“Oh, gross, Neal!” Dash snarled, slapping him away angrily. “What the  **hell** are you doing?! You drooled on me!”

Neal jerked awake, raising a hand to where he’d just been slapped, and glanced over at Dash in confusion. Neal’s eyes then widened and he gave Dash a relieved look.

“You’re okay!” Neal said, yanking him tightly into a hug.

Dash let out a strangled noise of protest and then immediately slapped at him again.

“What the hell are you doing?!” he yelled, leaning away and kicking at Neal as hard as he could. “Get out of my room, you greasy asshole! What are you doing in here?!”

“This is  **my** room, actually,” Neal pointed out, not bothered by the tantrum.

Dash stilled and then glanced around the room, quickly seeing Neal was right. 

“Why am I…” 

Dash then remembered the avalanche, and had no memory of returning to the cabin. He realized he must have lost consciousness after the fall. Dash once again touched the wound on his head, and then winced in pain. His head was throbbing, but it was nothing a few tylenol wouldn’t cure.

He saw he was wearing pajamas and assumed Crackle must have got them to the lodge safely and put them to bed. If they were being kept together, then that stood to reason they were both hurt, and so he turned to Neal.

“Are you okay, Neal?” he asked in concern.

“Your little girly slaps aren’t enough to hurt me, love,” Neal responded, rubbing at his eyes tiredly.

Dash glared at him. “No, you moron, I meant, did you get hurt during the avalanche?”

“Not too bad,” Neal answered. “I got a few bruises from the avalanche, but nothing major.”

Dash let out a breath of relief. “Then you’re fine.”

“I did get in a fight with a polar bear for you though. It clawed me up pretty good, but I killed it, and saved you from getting eaten. I pulled you and Crackle for hours through a blizzard to get us back here.”

Dash slipped out of the bed, wincing at the icy cold floor. “You’re such an idiot, Neal,” he commented, stomping his way towards the door, “You never take  **anything** seriously!”

Dash left the room without another word, feeling exhausted, but knowing he had to find the bathroom  **fast** . He then stopped dead in his tracks. There  **was** no bathroom in this lodge. Dash let out an irritated curse and made his way downstairs. It was incredibly dark and he stumbled over a boot left in the middle of the hallway, and he cursed again, betting anything that it was Neal who left it there. Finding the front door, he opened it to take a look outside and immediately he was hit with a cold so bitter that he was instantly shivering. He stared at the giant drifts of snow in front of the door and then at the raging storm outside. He closed the door again. Nope. Definitely nope.

Dash shifted back and forth on his feet, getting rather desperate. He once again cursed his small bladder, and wished there was an alternative to going outside. Wandering through the bottom floor of the lodge, he found himself in the kitchen and his gaze fell on the sink. He considered it for a few seconds, and then shook his head. No, that was disgusting. He wasn’t going to pee in the sink.

He opened the back door to see if the drifts were any better on that side of the house and saw someone had shoveled a bit and he could see a path leading to the outhouse. Good enough.

Dash closed the door and then began searching for his coat and boots. He couldn’t find them, and wondered why there were over a dozen strange coats. Grabbing a random coat, he began to put it on, and it was then that Dash realized he couldn’t hold his bladder any longer. Bolting for the kitchen, he grabbed a chair, jumped up on top of it and made it just in time before he wet himself.

Knowing how disgusting this was, he flushed as he emptied his bladder into the sink, letting out a deep sigh of relief as he did so. He doubted he had ever peed so much in his entire life, and was just glad he hadn’t wet the bed. He doubted Neal would have  **ever** let that go for the rest of their lives. He cringed just  **thinking** about the teasing, and knew this was the lesser of the two evils. Just as Dash was righting his pajamas and about to step down, he heard a noise behind him.

“I trust I don’t have to tell you how unsanitary that is.”

Dash let out a startled shriek at Shadowsan’s voice, and he fell off the chair, hitting his back painfully off the floor. He stared up at Shadowsan who stood in the doorway, and then scrambled to get away, knowing he didn’t stand a chance without his weapons.

“Crackle!” Dash screamed out, “Crackle! Team Red’s in the cabin!”

Shadowsan calmly approached him, flashlight in hand. “Crackle is already aware of our presence,” he informed him calmly, “You’ve been unconscious for most of the night. Our two teams have a temporary truce until the storm is over. You have nothing to fear from us, as long as you behave.”

Dash stared up at him with wide eyes, and then slowly began scooching away from him towards the door.

“Sanitize that sink,” Shadowsan ordered, “That was disgusting, and we need to use that sink while we’re here. There is a bottle of bleach and a sponge under the counter.”

Dash simply stared at him, and Shadowsan crossed his arms, his expression highly unimpressed.

“Sanitize the sink,” he repeated.

Without a word, Dash did as he was told, and grabbed the bottle of bleach, dumping a good amount into the sink. He then hesitated and glanced at the remaining bleach. If Shadowsan was blinded, he might stand a chance at defeating him… Dash could fight pretty well at hand-to-hand if he needed to and the pain from being blinded might be enough to give him the edge. Once Shadowsan was defeated, he could warn the rest of his team before it was too late.

As if he sensed what the villain was thinking, Shadowsan reached out and plucked the bottle out of Dash’s hand and put it away. Dash silently cleaned the sink as thoroughly as he could, and then glanced over at Shadowsan who was boiling water on the stove. Rinsing the bleach out of the sink, Dash quickly washed his hands and then glanced again at Shadowsan. A little bit worried that Shadowsan was going to throw boiling water at him, Dash began edging his way towards the door.

“Would you like some tea, Dash Haber?” Shadowsan asked him, “I didn’t mean to frighten you before.”

Dash continued to slowly back away. “Erm...no thank you, I’m just going back to bed…” he replied, fleeing out of the kitchen.

Running up the stairs as fast as he could, he stared at all the bedroom doors, but wasn’t sure which one was Crackle’s. Not wanting to waste any time, he instead ran for Neal’s room and violently threw open the door. The door banged hard against the wall, and Neal nearly had a heart attack as he was startled awake. 

“Team Red is here!” Dash hissed, quickly closing the door.

“Yup,” Neal replied without interest, rolling over to go back to sleep.

Dash scowled and approached the bed. “We’re outnumbered, Neal! Team Red has infiltrated the cabin!”

“Yup,” Neal replied again.

Dash yanked Neal around to face him. “We have to tell Crackle, you idiot!”

Neal stared up at him and then rolled his eyes. “We have a truce with Team Red right now, fancy. They’re not going to do anything to us. Now relax and go back to bed.”

Dash frowned. Would Crackle really agree to a truce? He supposed it made sense considering the storm outside, but he didn’t like it. Did Crackle have to give up the artifact in order to make this truce? What was the plan? Were they going to wait until the snow stopped to steal it back, or was Crackle just going to allow them to keep it? Dash felt like he’d missed out on a lot, and he didn’t like it.

“Are you just going to stand there hovering over me as I sleep?” Neal asked, not opening his eyes, “Kinda creepy, but whatever floats your boat, fancy.”

Dash scowled at the other man and then turned and stormed out of the room. Choosing one of the other rooms, he quietly opened the door and peered in. He couldn’t see who was in the bed and so he quietly called out.

“Graham?”

There was the sound of someone shifting and Dash stood there awkwardly in the doorway.

“Wrong room,” Theodore informed him sleepily, “Graham’s room is the one at the very end of the hall near the window.”

“Sorry, Teddy,” Dash whispered, closing the door again.

Dash was shivering from the cold, but he wanted to get confirmation from Crackle before assuming everything was fine. Hurrying down the hall, Dash tried Crackle’s door, but it wouldn’t open. He gave a quiet knock, and a few seconds later, he heard bed springs as someone shifted.

“Who is it?” Crackle demanded aggressively.

“It’s Dash.”

There was a pause and then Dash heard something heavy being pushed away from the door. The door was opened and Crackle peered out a bit cautiously, but when he confirmed it was Dash, he looked visibly relieved.

“Come in,” Crackle whispered, stepping aside.

Dash entered the bedroom and Crackle closed the door after him. Crackle then turned to him and immediately began looking him all over. Crackle inspected Dash’s head wound, and seemed satisfied with what he saw.

“I was really worried about you,” Crackle told him, “You had a really bad hit to the head.”

“I don’t remember any of it,” Dash replied, “especially the part about Team Red showing up to the cabin...”

Crackle grimaced. “The mission was compromised,” he explained, “and because of the storm, our teams are forced to remain here together. I’ve agreed to a temporary truce until we can get out of here, so play nice and don’t try to start anything. You’re to avoid the other team at all costs.”

Dash let out a huff. “Shadowsan just gave me a heart attack in the kitchen! I had no idea Team Red were here until he appeared out of nowhere! I don’t like this, Graham! We’re outnumbered!”

Crackle nodded in agreement. “I don’t either, but there’s nothing we can do about it. It’s really late, or really early depending on how you look at it, and so you should get some more sleep. There are a lot of things I need to explain to you later. Has Neal woken up yet?”

Dash nodded. “Yeah, he woke up a while ago and was being his usual annoying self. He went back to bed.”

“Good, I’m glad you’re both alright. Go back to bed and I’ll explain everything I found out in the morning.”

“Alright,” Dash agreed, his eyes lingering on the bandages on Crackle’s head, “Are you okay, Graham?”

Crackle raised his hand to his head and nodded. “Just a bit of a bump,” he assured him, “Your injury was far worse than mine. Take it easy, and try to get some more sleep.”

Dash nodded and then turned to the door. As soon as he was back in the hallway, he heard Crackle once again move something heavy in front of the door. It appeared Crackle didn’t fully trust Team Red and Dash couldn’t blame him.

Heading across the hall to his own room, he hesitated for a moment uncertainly. What if someone was using his room? Opening the door as quietly as he could, he peered inside, but to his relief the room was empty. Slipping inside and closing the door after him, he took a seat on his bed and took a deep breath. Four cats were curled up on his bed and he scooped Steve into his arms, just wanting to calm down. Steve purred at him sleepily, and Dash patted her gently as he thought about this changed situation.

Dash hated  **everything** about this mission and hoped they could leave as soon as possible. 

Team Red were in the cabin, but that was okay...probably. They weren’t psychopaths or murderers, and so it was unlikely he was going to be hurt. He could go back to bed and Crackle would fill him in tomorrow.

Too wound up to sleep right away, he reached into his dufflebag and pulled out his 3ds and powered it on. He then frowned. Why was the battery halfway drained? He  **just** charged it on the plane! Hoping his 3ds wasn’t wearing out, he started his game and leaned back against his pillows to relax. Dash then sat straight up again. He’d left off in Twinleaf Town and now his trainer was in Celestic Town! Someone had been messing with his game! 

Dash gave a look of fury towards the door, vowing to strangle Neal if he did  **anything** to mess up his game. He’d warned him before not to touch his things, but it was clear Neal never listened to a thing anyone told him. Scowling angrily, he began looking his profile over for anything amiss. It didn’t take him long to notice his rarest shiny was missing, a lvl 3 rattata in its place. Someone had traded it to their own 3ds just a few hours prior.

“I’ll kill him...I’ll  **fucking** kill him!”

Getting up, Dash threw his door open with a bang and stormed across the hall to Neal’s room. With no hesitation whatsoever, he threw open the door and crossed the room to the bed. Absolutely livid, he crawled up onto Neal’s bed and then began pounding at him as hard as could with his fists.

“GIVE IT BACK!” Dash yelled at him furiously.

Neal woke up with a started yelp, and he thrashed out against the unexpected attack and Dash struck him over and over, having no intention of stopping. Dash was screaming at him about giving something back and Neal was completely confused.

“What are you talking about?” Neal demanded, catching Dash by the wrists.

“YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID!” Dash bellowed.

“I really don’t,” Neal responded, giving the other man a frown.

Dash tugged at his wrists and then began booting at Neal as hard as he could.

Neal wasn’t about to lay there and allow himself to be beaten to a pulp, so he retaliated, giving Dash a solid kick to the stomach. Dash gasped in surprise as he was knocked back, but he was back on Neal in an instant, his fists lashing out as fast as he could. 

“YOU KNEW THAT WAS THE  **ONE** THING NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO TOUCH, AND YOU DID IT ANYWAY!”

Neal had no idea what had Dash so enraged, but he was starting to get mad himself, and so he began retaliating with his own fists, ignoring the agony his whole body was in. Both were screaming at each and lashing out viciously, and Neal felt one of his stitches rip as Dash kicked him in the chest.

The door suddenly crashed open and both Team Red and Team Crackle piled into the room, staring at the fight in disbelief. It had been a long time since Neal and Dash had physically fought each other like this and Crackle was surprised, and then annoyed. Striding forward, he yanked the two men apart. Dash immediately tried to lunge at Neal again, and so Crackle pulled him away from the bed, forcing him to stand several feet away.

“It’s four in the morning!” Crackle yelled angrily. “What the  **hell** are you two fighting about now?”

Dash was not about to admit the reason he was so furious, and instead glared over at Neal. “He knows what he did!”

“No, I  **don’t** !” Neal answered in frustration. “If this is about the toothbrush, I’ll get you another one!”

“No, this is  **not** about the toothbrush, Neal, it’s about...wait, what  **about** my toothbrush?!”

Neal looked shiftily away. “Er...nothing...nevermind. I was just joking.”

Crackle narrowed his eyes at Neal. “Neal, whatever you did, knock it off, or I  **swear** you’re going to spend the whole day on bedrest. I’m not in the mood for your nonsense right now.”

“I didn’t do anything!” Neal said in frustration, “He’s accusing me of theft and I never took anything!”

“You messed with my stuff!” Dash roared, “You’re always pulling shit like this!”

“I didn’t do it!”

No one noticed how Zack was wincing guiltily, knowing exactly what had Dash so furious.

Crackle turned his attention to Dash. “And as for  **you** , how about you show a little gratitude to Neal?! He saved your life out there! You  **died** , and he had to resuscitate you! If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t even be here right now! Even if Neal was teasing you, this was a ridiculous overreaction!”

Dash’s eyes widened in horror. “Wait, I  **died** ?!”

“Yeah you were dead for like five whole minutes,” Neal confirmed, “No heartbeat, no breathing, and you were turning all blue in the face.”

Dash paled. “Are you serious?!”

Neal cleared his throat dramatically. “Allow me to tell you the tale of what happened after the avalanche-”

Everyone exchanged a look, annoyed about being woken up this early, but also curious.

“It was a dark and stormy night!” Neal began in his best storytelling voice, “I woke up in the snow choking on blood and half blind. The icy winds were like needles in my skin and I gasped for breath as I fought my way out of the suffocating snow. The storm raged all around me, and I could barely see a thing-”

Both teams listened in silence as Neal enthusiastically recounted everything that had happened after the avalanche. Everyone had to admit that Neal was a talented storyteller as they listened to him, and Dash turned a bit green as Neal explained in detail about how he’d been revived.

“Don’t worry, Dashie, the next time I put my mouth on yours, I’ll buy you dinner first,” Neal teased, giving him a wink.

Dash couldn’t even respond to that, still horrified over the fact he had actually been dead. He hadn’t simply been unconscious, he’d been  **dead** . He had no recollection of being dead and this in itself made a cold fear settle in the pit of his stomach.

Neal went on to explain about putting Crackle and Dash his parka because they were losing too much body heat, and then he told them of the long and cold journey. He explained in complete detail all about the polar bear fight, and he received 17 stares of skepticism when he was finished. Neal frowned at them when he saw the looks, suddenly realizing not one person believed him.

“It’s true!” he insisted, pointing to his chest, “I nearly got clawed in half!”

He pulled his shirt up to point at the stitches, frustrated when he got several eyerolls.

“Well, he’s a talented storyteller, that’s for sure,” Carmen told Crackle in amusement, “Player actually loves his stories.”

“He certainly does have an imagination,” Crackle agreed, crossing his arms.

“Oh, you guys really suck,” Neal groused, “I did something awesome and no one believes me!”

“I believe you,” Paper Star told him.

Everyone turned to stare at her in surprise.

“You do?” Neal asked, hopefully.

She gave a shrug. “I do,” she confirmed, “I once had a weapon called the bear claw, and it left wounds exactly like the ones you have. I definitely think you met a bear out there.”

Neal gave her a pleased smile, glad at least one person was on his side.

“He’s just making up stories,” Roosevelt told Paper Star, “There ain’t no such thing as bears. They’re made-up animals like platypuses.”

Roosevelt received several looks of bewilderment and Dash raised a finger like he was going to correct him, but then he simply shook his head and stayed silent.

“Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t,” Paper Star replied, giving Roosevelt an amused nudge, “Who knows what’s hidden this far up North?”

Dash had been completely silent this whole time, and he was feeling increasingly unnerved over the whole thing. Not wanting to interact with anyone, he turned, pushed past both teams aggressively and left the room without a word. 

Going back to his room, he closed his door and took a very deep breath, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he had actually died. He’d been dead for several minutes, and he’d had no idea. He didn’t remember anything from being dead, and that terrified him. Was there nothing but darkness after death? Once you were dead, was that it? One chance to exist and that’s it? He was only 25 years old, and his life had almost ended.

Dash suddenly felt inexplicably cold and so he crawled into his bed and wrapped himself in the quilts, shivering against the chill that made its way up his spine.

Dash knew that he’d die someday, everyone died after all, but he never really thought he’d die so young. The job of an operative was a dangerous one, and Dash knew he’d be faced with more life or death situations in the future. Someday, he might not be so lucky.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Crackle awoke just after eight and got up, still feeling tired, but not wanting to stay in bed all morning. Knowing his team were probably hungry, he got dressed and decided to see if the others were up yet. He’d bring them breakfast to minimize their interactions with Team Red, and they’d spend the day in their rooms far away from them. He quietly left his room and then headed for room across from him.

Opening Dash’s door, he peered in and saw Dash was still sound asleep, and so he let him be and crossed the hall and opened Neal’s door instead. To his annoyance, the room was empty. Letting out a sigh of annoyance, he opened Paper Star’s room, finding her gone as well. With a furrowed brow, he opened Double Trouble’s door and they weren’t there either. Opening the last door, he let out a sigh of exasperation when he saw Moose Boy and Otterman were gone as well.

Now thoroughly annoyed, Crackle made his way downstairs, only to discover his team fully mingling with Team Red in the living room. Neal was wearing his glasses and laughing at something Ivy said, and the twins were eating what looked like canned fruit while smiling and joking with each other. Moose Boy was in the process of lighting the fireplace, and Otterman was seated on the couch with Mime Bomb and Carmen chatting. Everyone seemed completely at ease with each other, and this only further annoyed him.

“ _ Kia Ora _ , Graham,” Neal called over, giving him a friendly wave.

“What the  **hell** do you think you’re doing?” Crackle cried out, “I said no mingling with Team Red!”

“We’re not mingling,” Neal replied innocently, “We’re just having breakfast and enjoying Christmas Eve. Come on, Graham, join us!”

Crackle let out a huff of annoyance. “No, all of you upstairs  **now** . No fraternizing with the enemy! We can’t trust them, and I’m not allowing you to put yourselves at risk!”

“I’m not spending Christmas Eve locked in my room,” Theodore said boldly, “Christmas is my favourite time of year, and I’m going to enjoy it!”

Roosevelt nodded his agreement. “Me too!” he exclaimed, “We have a truce, right?”

“I’m staying wherever Sven is, and right now he wants to talk to his cousins,” Moose Boy said, wrapping an arm around his partner affectionately.

“Come on, Scrooge, lighten up,” Neal said with a grin, “Sit down and have some questionable canned fruit and a muffin. The cute little mime made them.”

“I helped!” El Topo pointed out.

Crackle’s mouth formed a thin line as he took a deep and annoyed breath through his nose. “Fine,” he relented, “You don’t have to remain in your rooms, but you are  **not** making friends with the enemy.”

Crackle pointed to the couch Double Trouble were sitting on. “We’ll stay on  **this** side, and  **they** will stay on  **that** side.”

“Gray, is this really necessary?” Carmen asked, crossing her arms, “We have a truce. How about if we all just enjoy Christmas and forget about our differences for just a couple days? Let your team have a good Christmas.”

Crackle narrowed his eyes at Carmen and seemed conflicted. He really didn’t want to ruin Christmas for his team, but the idea of them fraternizing like this made him nervous. He watched as Neal leaned over and whispered something in Mime Bomb’s ear who immediately turned and glared at the other man. Neal simply gave him an innocent smile, and Mime Bomb rolled his eyes and then turned his attention back to what Otterman was saying.

“Everyone, move away from Team Red,” Crackle ordered, pointing to the other side of the room. 

Otterman frowned over at Crackle, but he did get up to do as he was told.

“Graham…” Carmen protested, “We were only talking.”

Crackle watched as his team took a seat on the couch on the other side of the room, and he noticed there was one person who had ignored him.

Neal was teasing Mime Bomb again about something or another, and Crackle narrowed his eyes. Mime Bomb edged further away from Neal who seemed determined to have a conversation with him. After a moment, the mime signed something angrily towards Zack, got up and left the room all while glaring at Neal.

“He doesn’t like being teased,” Zack stated with a shrug.

Mime Bomb entered the kitchen and hesitated when he saw Paper Star frowning unhappily. She had a bunch of ingredients spread out on the counter in front of her, and Mime Bomb realized she was going to bake something. She turned to stare at him, and he edged by her and reached for the pot of coffee.

“Is baking powder the same thing as baking soda?” she asked, frowning down at her recipe.

Mime Bomb took a sip of his coffee, and then glanced down at her gathered ingredients. He removed the baking powder from the gathered ingredients and then approached the nearby cupboards. Placing it back on one of the shelves, he began digging and a moment later pulled out a box of baking soda. He handed it to her, and she simply looked confused.

“Are you supposed to remove the eggs from the shells or do they dissolve into the batter?”

Mime Bomb took a very long and slow sip of coffee, and then set his mug aside. He held out his hand and took the recipe from her and glanced down to see what she wanted to make. He saw it was a basic recipe for sugar cookies. He gave a quick glance to the ingredients and saw she had somehow found everything she needed.

Mime Bomb gave her a questioning look and she crossed her arms defensively. 

“I’ve never cooked anything before,” she commented, “I’ve been trying to do something new every single day.”

Mime Bomb cocked his head at her and so she explained.

“Sven gave me a little book a few months ago and told me it’s called a Life Book,” she explained, pulling it out of her pocket, “He told me that your focus on the future instead of the past and you try to live a full and rich life full of new experiences.”

Mime Bomb took the book and flipped it open, his eyes scanning the dozens of entries. Camping. Campfire. Hotdogs. Construction. A friend. A hug. Petting a cat. Getting scratched by a cat. Attending a garden party. Ruining a garden party. Swimming in the ocean. Collecting shells on the beach. Going to bed hungry. Digging inside a couch for loose change. 

Mime Bomb glanced up and stared at the girl in surprise. He didn’t know her very well, but from what Carmen had said, she was a sociopath. He had serious doubts about this, and he felt pity for her. Closing the Life Book, he handed it back to her. Downing the rest of his coffee, he approached the kitchen sink and then began washing his hands. Once finished, he approached Paper Star and reached for the bag of flour.

“...are you helping me?” she asked in surprise.

Mime Bomb nodded and then motioned for the measuring cups. Paper Star smiled and handed them over.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

“Neal,  **now,** ” Crackle ordered, his tone taking on a warning edge, “I won’t tell you again.”

Neal glanced up at him, saw the angry look, and then let out a sigh of exasperation. Without a word, he struggled to his feet while clutching his chest, and took five steps across the room to where the rest of his team were seated. His movements were slow and careful, and it was obvious he was in a fair bit of discomfort. He took a seat beside the twins, and then sucked in a sharp breath. Crackle was immediately worried and he approached. Kneeling down, he unbuttoned Neal’s pajama top and inspected the wounds.

“You’re bleeding again!” Crackle scolded, “You should have stayed in bed!”

“Naw, getting up wasn’t what ripped my stitches,” Neal responded, “I have Dashie to thank for  **that** one!”

“I’m going to repair these stitches,” Crackle commented, “I’ll be right back, I’m just going to grab the first aid kit.”

Crackle left the room without another word, and Neal got to his feet and crossed the room, plunked himself down between Zack and Ivy.

“Did Carmen ever tell you about the time I ended up in the infirmary for three days just because I ate the cafeteria food at the academy?”

“No, she didn’t!” Zack said, clearly interested.

Carmen let out a snort. “I forgot about that!” she commented, “I don’t know what you were thinking!”

“What happened?” Ivy asked, “Was the food really that bad?”

“Normally it was fine, but this was a unique situation,” Neal explained, “You see Dr. Bellum had been working on several artificial crops, but she lacked test subjects. In all the faculty’s ‘wisdom’ they decided to start feeding the students her artificial food.”

“Neal!”

Neal looked up and saw Crackle standing in the doorway, giving him a scolding look.

“Oops,” Neal said with a grin.

“Other side of the room,” Crackle ordered.

Neal sighed and then limped his way over to the other couch. The moment he was sitting down, Crackle opened the first aid kit and then began carefully removing Neal’s bandages. As suspected, several stitches had been torn and Crackle looked over the bruises and frostbite critically.

“How’s the pain this morning?” he asked.

“Pretty damn sore,” Neal admitted, “But nothing I can’t handle.”

Crackle made a noise of disapproval and then began disinfecting the wounds. As the old stitches were removed, Neal grimaced but he didn’t move a muscle. Crackle carefully repaired the stitches and by the time he was done, Neal was shaking, but he still hadn’t uttered a sound. Crackle re-bandaged his chest and then pressed a couple tylenol into the other man’s hand. Neal popped the pills into his mouth without questions, and then watched as Crackle disposed of the bloody gauze and bandages.

“You will be taking things easy for a while,” Crackle said softly, “I’m going to be having a chat with Dash about the way he acted this morning.”

“No, it’s fine, wombat,” Neal assured him, “Dash didn’t know I was injured, and you know how much of a little drama-queen he is. I still have no idea what set him off though…”

Zack quickly busied himself with shoveling fruit into his mouth, doing his best not to make eye contact. No one noticed, and Crackle frowned down at Neal.

“You can stay down here for now, but if I see that you’re overdoing it, I’m sending you back to bed.”

Neal rolled his eyes. “Yes, mother dearest.”

“I’ll be right back,” Crackle told his team, “I’m going to grab some of that fruit.”

They watched him leave the room, and the moment he was gone, Neal was almost instantly back on the other couch with Zack and Ivy.

“So, like I was saying, I was at the academy when they tried forcing us to eat that disgusting fake rice of Dr. Bellum’s.”

Zack shuddered. “That stuff smelled like moldy feet.”

“Tasted worse,” Neal commented, “Another student named The Rhino was a major asshole, and he forced me to eat a whole bowl of that stuff. I ended up living in the infirmary bathroom for the next three days. Apparently it almost killed me, and caused me to become delirious. They stopped trying to force the students to eat that shitty fake food after that. They never expected any of us to eat more than a couple mouthfuls of it, and when they realized it was hazardous to have it near stupid kids, they got rid of it.”

“I remember having to eat that garbage,” Carmen commented, “I used to dump it on the floor so I wouldn’t have to eat it. I guess I have you to thank for getting rid of it. I didn’t realize you were forced to eat it. I always just assumed you were being a glutton.”

Neal snorted in laughter. “I’m still convinced it did some sort of damage to my body, despite what Dr. Bellum claims. I think this is why I never gain an ounce of weight no matter what I eat.”

“Oh man, that sucks,” Zack commented, “Good that you’ll never be fat, but bad in the fact it hurt you like that!”

Neal waved him off. “I’m fine,” he assured him, “All these little things make life more interesting I suppose!”

“I like your Christmas jammies,” Ivy told Neal, staring down at his Santa zebras with a smile, “Where’d ya get ‘em?”

Neal gave a shrug. “Every year my brother gives me a new pair of pajamas for Christmas. This is actually the first Christmas I haven’t spent with him.”

Carmen was surprised. “Wait, you mean you’ve remained in contact with your family all these years?”

“Yeah, I usually get two weeks off at Christmas that I spend with him. This mission was a one time exception.”

“Wait,” Tigress interrupted, “V.I.L.E always gave you an entire two weeks off at Christmas? No missions  **ever** during the holidays?”

“None at all,” Neal confirmed.

Tigress was instantly indignant, “They told me they  **never** give pre-approved vacation time, and that being available for missions on Christmas was mandatory!”

“Neal was a special exception,” Shadowsan commented, not looking up from his book, “The head faculty believed a little lenience on this was necessary to keep him at his best.”

“I could have used having Christmas off!” Tigress protested.

“It does hardly seem fair,” Le Chèvre agreed, “All operatives should have been allowed to choose a holiday off!”

“I would have chosen Christmas,” El Topo stated thoughtfully.

Neal gave another shrug. “I’m an exception to the rules for a reason.”

“Why?” Tigress demanded, crossing her arms. “What makes  **you** so special?”

Neal raised a brow at her and then smiled widely. “It’s because my entire family except for my brother died in a plane crash on Christmas day. My parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and five of my siblings all died, and in an instant I was an orphan. They gave me the time off, because they assumed I’d be too distracted by grief during a mission.”

Tigress’ expression instantly turned horrified. “Oh..uh..I-I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have...”

Neal watched her stammer for a few seconds and then laughed. “It’s fine, love, I never even knew my family. They died when I was like a month old, but V.I.L.E didn’t know that, and I never corrected them.”

Shadowsan gave him a disapproving look, but didn’t comment. Neal had been given two weeks off for fourteen years and it had been unnecessary. Shadowsan was no longer V.I.L.E however, and so he ignored it and went back to his book.

“Is your brother with V.I.L.E as well?” Carmen asked.

Neal let out a snort. “Hell no, Carmen, he’s a fancy criminal lawyer in Auckland. I don’t think Adam has ever broken a single law in his entire life!”

“That’ll come in handy for when you get arrested,” Chase commented, crossing his arms.

Neal grimaced at the thought. “Let’s be real, we all know I would never allow myself to remain in jail for long.”

“We have a truce right now, but eventually your team will be brought to justice,” Chase vowed.

“We’ll see,” Neal responded, sounding unbothered.

“I like your glasses, Neal,” Julia commented, trying to change the subject.

She raised a hand to her own glasses and Neal gave her a thumb’s up. 

“You, me, and Sven have nerd solidarity,” he commented.

“Speak for yourself,” Otterman commented, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah!” Moose Boy defended, “Sven is  **my** nerd, and he doesn’t have any diseases!”

“Er...what now, love?” Neal questioned.

“Sven doesn’t have ‘solidrarity’ or whatever it is you said! He’s clean!”

Otterman let out a groan and clapped a hand to his face as Neal let out a laugh.

“Of course, Henrik, you’re right, my mistake!” Neal answered.

“Dammit Neal!” Crackle said as he reentered the room, “Would you  **stop** fraternizing with the enemy!”

Neal let out a sigh, and then moved back to the other couch beside Double Trouble. Crackle took a seat on the couch with them, and gave Neal a warning look as he took a bite of canned peaches. Not wanting to push his luck too far, Neal joined in with the twins' conversation about sports, quickly joking and laughing along with them. After a while, even Crackle and Moose Boy joined in, the tension in the room finally began diminishing. Otterman had no interest in sports and so he began playing a game on his phone instead.

Carmen watched how Team Crackle interacted with each other and saw how close they all seemed to be. She’d never really considered it before, but it was obvious they’d created their own sort of dysfunctional family just as her team had done. She knew it wasn’t fair that Crackle was making his team keep their distance, but knew she was slowly making progress with him. Once he trusted her a bit more, she felt certain their teams could finally unite.

For just a moment, as Crackle smiled at something Theodore said, she saw the old Crackle shine through, and it tore at her heart. He would never be the same as he once was, but she could only hope that someday he might forgive her for everything she’d done.

Zack saw her sad gaze, and then gave her a nudge. “Heya, Carm, it’s Christmas Eve, let’s decorate the ‘tree’ together! Come on! I brought tons of tree decorations!”

Carmen gave a laugh as Zack grabbed her arm and pulled her over to the tree. The rest of Team Red began gathering around to help pull ornaments out of boxes, and Team Crackle frowned in their direction, instantly jealous. 

“Aw,” Neal complained, “Graham…”

“No,” Crackle said, not even having to ask what he wanted.

“Well, what if we just help for a little bit and then-”

“ **No** , Neal.”

“It’s Christmas Eve!” Neal protested, “You can’t take away decorating the tree from us!”

“If you can’t control yourself, then go wake Dash for breakfast,” Crackle ordered, “Argue anymore and you can enjoy Christmas Eve on bedrest.”

Neal let out a deep sigh, turning a sad gaze towards the fun the others were having as he got to his feet. He could see how on edge Crackle was, and knew he wasn’t trying to be mean, he just worried about them.

Neal decided he would get over his disappointment by teasing Dash instead. Dash was always fun to torment, and he was honestly a bit worried about him after that major blow up last night. What if that fight was caused by Dash’s head injury?

As Neal headed out of the room, he got distracted by the scent of something good coming from the kitchen. Abandoning his mission to wake Dash, he instead headed for the kitchen to investigate. There he found Mime Bomb baking cookies. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure Crackle wasn’t watching, he slipped into the kitchen.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Vess popped another painkiller into his mouth and glared at all the flashing lights that surrounded him. Cheesy Christmas music was playing loudly from the soundsystem, and Michael was nuzzled into his side while munching on a cookie that had far too much icing on it. Michael had turned all decorations on for Christmas Eve and they’d been watching movies all afternoon. Michael was wearing a Santa wolf sweater, and after much arguing, Vess had reluctantly put on a plain green sweater, refusing all the tacky ones Michael had suggested.

Siren was seated on the other side of the room, quietly watching the movie, and Vess didn’t really have much to complain about. Other than Michael  **really** trying to force the holiday on him, his day had been pretty uneventful.

“Isn’t this nice, Numa?” Michael asked, looking up at Vess affectionately, “Our first Christmas together.”

Vess stared down at Michael’s smile and he felt his mood improve a little bit. He truly hated the noisy and tacky holiday, but it made Michael happy and so he was willing to tolerate it...to a degree. Vess had finished work early that day, and Michael had insisted they spend the whole day doing Christmas activities. 

Vess had watched as Michael and Siren decorated store-bought cookies, but he’d made no effort to help them. Siren spent about two hours decorating a single cookie and then never bothered eating it. When Michael had taken it and bitten the head off, Siren had a  **major** temper tantrum, and the two had gotten into a screaming match. That’s when Vess had taken his first painkiller.

The second painkiller had been when Michael had decided to rap various Christmas songs.

The mere sight of his apartment made Vess cringe, but he only had to tolerate it for one more day and then he could take pleasure in throwing everything in the incinerator. Now that both Michael and Siren were being quiet as they watched a marathon of movies, Vess took that time to nap and simply relax. He ignored the fact Siren consumed no less than six Pepsi and no food that day, and also ignored the fact Michael had eaten nothing besides candy.

Vess could see the effort Michael put into the holiday, but he still felt irritated that Michael wouldn’t stop trying to include him. Michael had insisted that Christmas dinner had to be turkey, and he had ordered a complete meal to be delivered the next day from the local restaurant. Vess preferred to cook his own food, but he didn’t mind turkey and so he didn’t complain about it. The only thing he had pointed out was the fact there was no way the two of them could possibly finish that much food before it spoiled. Michael had apparently taken that as a challenge and vowed he’d finish the whole thing before the holidays were over.

Vess would never admit it out loud, but relaxing with Michael while watching cheesy movies was actually a little nice. Michael was incredibly excited about everything, but right now he was calm and quiet and that’s how Vess preferred things.

They were watching some ridiculous movie about a reindeer when Michael suddenly sat up fast. 

“It’s Christmas!” he announced.

Vess glanced at the clock and saw it was indeed midnight on the dot.

“Merry Christmas, Numa!” Michael said, reaching up and kissing him on the cheek.

“Ugh,” Siren complained, “Disgusting.”

Vess flashed him an unamused look and Michael scowled. 

“Shut up, toad, no one even wants you here!”

Siren stuck out his tongue at Michael, who did the same. Vess rubbed the bridge of his nose, tempted to pop another pill. Michael then got up and hurried from the room.

“Be right back!” Michael announced, slapping at Siren as he passed him by.

Siren whipped a pillow after him and Vess shot him a disapproving glare.

“Not  **my** fault Michael’s a twat,” Siren replied.

“I think it’s time for you to go to bed,” Vess informed him, “When you start getting annoying, that’s when it’s safer for you elsewhere.”

Siren rolled his eyes.

Michael returned and in his hands was a large wrapped gift with a bow on it. Vess stared at the gift for a moment and then gave Michael a questioning look.

“Since it’s technically Christmas, I wanted to give you your main gift now!” Michael said excitedly, “We can open the rest of the gifts in the morning.”

Vess was a bit taken aback but he accepted the gift as Michael shoved it into his arms. Cocking his head curiously, he wondered what could possibly be this odd shape. He removed the bow and then began carefully peeling the tape away from the wrapping paper instead of tearing it. Michael shifted about impatiently as he watched the slow and tedious way Vess was opening the gift, but he didn’t comment. Vess pulled the paper away from the gift and the sight of the gft made his eyes widen in complete shock.

“I made this for you,” Michael said, wringing his hands nervously, “I hope you like it.”

It was a painting, but not just  **any** painting. Vess stared at the neighbourhood he’d grown up in before it had been destroyed in the war, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. The detail was incredible and Vess gazed at the stores and houses he remembered clearly and not a thing was out of place. His gaze fell on a couple sitting at the cafe and he saw it was he and Michael. They were holding hands and smiling into each other’s eyes, dressed casually and looking completely relaxed and happy. Vess had never seen himself look like that, and he realized that was how Michael saw him. 

The smallest possible details were there, and Vess continued staring and staring, looking at everything in pure amazement. The longer Vess remained silent, the more and more nervous Michael became, and when Vess had been silent for over five minutes, Michael assumed the worst. He snatched the painting out of Vess’ hands and gave him a distraught look.

“I’m sorry, I know it sucks!” he cried out, “I’ve been working on it since July, but it still looks like crap. I shouldn’t have given it to you! I’m sorry, I’ll get you something better!”

As Michael turned to leave, Vess caught him by the arm. Michael paused and looked back at him, the embarrassment and uncertainty clear in his eyes.

“You...you  **made** this?” Vess demanded, looking genuinely shocked.

Michael gave a slow nod. “I’ve been working on it when you’re at work…”

Vess took the painting out of Michael’s hands and stared at it again. He knew Michael liked to sketch but he never would have expected him to be capable of something like this. It was beautiful.

“Do...do you like it?” Michael asked, clearly worried.

Vess smiled at Michael, feeling so appreciative of a gift like this. Vess hadn’t thought about home in a very long time, and the painting brought back feelings he couldn’t even begin to describe. Just looking at the picture brought back memories of the sounds and smells of the busy market, and he felt a longing to see Yemen again.

“I love it, Michael,” Vess said, gently running his fingers across the picture, “Thank you…”

When Michael saw the tender smile, he relaxed and hesitantly smiled back. “It’s been a while since I painted so I wasn’t sure…”

Vess pulled Michael in for a hug. Vess hugged him as tightly as he could, unable to believe how lucky he’d been to meet the boy. As infuriating as Michael could be, Vess had never felt the same way about any other person. Michael made him feel things he never dreamed about, and it was only because of him that Vess still felt human. Vess knew he was a borderline sociopath, but Michael managed to find his humanity.

“Thank you,” he whispered again, “It’s perfect.”

Michael’s cheeks coloured, and he averted his eyes. “I looked up as many pictures as I could find,” he told him, “I hope I got it right…”

“It’s exact,” Vess confirmed, still smiling, “Now, I know I don’t celebrate Christmas, but I still got you a little something…”

Michael grinned at him. “Oh?” he questioned, “You got me a Christmas present?”

Vess rolled his eyes. “Yes, I got you a Christmas present,” he confirmed, “Do you want it right now or in the morning?”

“Now!” Michael answered without hesitation.

Vess nodded and then reached into his pocket. He pulled out a very small box from the local jewelers and Michael’s eyes widened.

“Oh my god!” Michael exclaimed with a shocked gasp.

“Merry Christmas, Michael,” Vess said, pressing the box into Michael’s hands.

Siren sat straight up at the sight of the little box, his eyes wide as Michael smiled happily. Michael’s eyes were positively shining as he turned the box the right way around so he could open it. He opened the box and when his eyes fell on the pair of dinosaur skull earrings, his smile disappeared in an instant. He stared at the earrings for a long moment and didn’t move.

“...oh,” Michael finally said.

Vess frowned at the less than enthusiastic response. “You don't like them?” he questioned, “I thought you  **loved** dinosaurs? Do you want to exchange them?”

Michael swallowed heavily, and his eyes were looking suspiciously bright. “No, no, I absolutely love them.. They're fantastic..”

Vess furrowed his brow as he stared at the boy’s crushed looking expression. 

“Michael?” he questioned, “What’s wrong?”

“I’m going to go try these on right now!” Michael exclaimed loudly, turning and practically running from the room.

Vess thought he saw tears, but that didn’t make sense and he was incredibly confused. Siren was simply staring at him in disbelief, and he had a feeling the other man knew what Michael’s problem was.

“Why is Michael acting so weird all of a sudden?” he demanded, “Those earrings were expensive, and they seemed like something he should have liked!”

Siren shook his head. “Numa, you are an absolute dipshit.”

Vess narrowed his eyes. “Excuse me?” he demanded, his tone going dangerous.

“Michael thought you were going to propose.”

Vess froze as this was not something he had even considered. He thought of the small box he’d presented Michael with, the mood of the room, the excitement on the boy’s face, and Vess knew he’d fucked up.

“Way to go, Numa,” Siren teased, “You successfully ruined Christmas for Michael.”

Vess simply sat there in stunned silence for several long seconds. 

“...fuck.”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Dash woke up feeling absolutely frozen. Shivering, he slowly sat up and rubbed at his eyes. He could see his breath, and rubbed his arms, glancing around the room. Steve and Hermes were curled up beside him and he reached down and pulled the kitten on up top of him, hoping to steal some body heat. Hermes stared at him for a moment and then promptly pounced straight at his face.

“Ow, shit,” Dash swore as he shoved the cat away from him, “You little demon!”

Hermes seemed unbothered and simply sat grooming his paws as Dash glared at him. Letting out a huff of annoyance, Dash sat up and figured he might as well get up.

Grabbing his bag from the floor, he yanked it up and began looking through it for something warm to wear. His hands fell on a thick blue sweater and he pulled it out. Neal had given every team member a Christmas sweater before they left for the mission, and Dash stared down at it with a frown. Neal had actually put effort into finding the perfect sweater for every team member, and Dash’s was covered in hand-stitched silver stars. It was the least tacky out of all the sweaters Neal had picked out, and he frowned down at it.

Dash thought of the events of the day before and he felt both frustrated and terrified.

Once again Neal had saved his life. Dash had lost count at this point of how many times Neal had saved someone’s life, but this time felt different. Knowing he’d been dead put an uneasy feeling in his stomach, and he couldn’t seem to push past the fear of it. If Neal had been just a minute later, he wouldn’t be here right now. His life would have ended, and the world would have gone on without him.

He remembered nothing at all from his death, and the idea of nothing but darkness was terrifying. Everything he had been as a person, every thought and every feeling would just be gone in an instant, and it would be like he’d never been alive at all. People would forget him, and he’d just be another name on a gravestone.

Dash clutched the sweater in his hands, feeling a cold fear make its way up his spine. Dash was terrified of death, and knew there was nothing he could to stop it. Eventually he’d get sick, or injured and he would be pulled into that dark void of death.

Dash threw the sweater across the room in a fit of anger, and then grabbed his usual shirt, vest and dress pants out of the bag. He didn’t want to think about it, and he just had to distract himself until he forgot.

Dash got dressed, and then stared in the mirror as he fixed his hair and makeup until he was as perfect as always. He fed the cats, made his bed, and then tidied his room. Two kittens were missing and he narrowed his eyes, having a feeling they’d been stolen by his teammates.

Shivering miserably, he left his room and then made his way downstairs, Steve and Hermes trailing behind him. Hoping to warm himself next to the fireplace for a while, he headed for the living room. Entering the room, he paused at the sight of Team Red, but then made his way towards his teammates, doing his best to ignore the other team. He noted that he was the only one not wearing his Christmas sweater, but he didn’t care.

Sitting as close to the fireplace as he could, he shot a disdainful look across the room in Team Red’s direction but said nothing. His gaze fell on Chanel in Otterman’s arms and he glared at him for a moment before glancing around for Gucci. To his horror, the little black and white kitten was in Zack’s arms.

“What are you doing with my cat?!” Dash snarled out, storming across the room, “Unhand Gucci immediately!”

Zack glanced down at the kitten and then frowned. “Aw, I wasn’t going to hurt her!” he assured him, “She really loves Mime Bomb and keeps coming over to us.”

Dash noted the mime wasn’t in the room and he narrowed his eyes. “Give me my cat!”

Zack rolled his eyes and handed over the kitten without protest, but Ivy scowled at him.

“He wasn’t doing any harm!”

Dash glared at Zack, still not over the whole Duke of Vermeer disaster. He simply glared at him and then turned and carried the kitten back over with him. Steve hopped up on his lap the second he sat down and he stroked her head as he gave another shiver.

“How are you feeling, Dash?” Carmen asked him, offering a smile, “Is your head hurting?”

“I’m fine,” Dash replied, sticking his nose in the air.

“Where’s Neal?” Crackle asked him, “I sent him upstairs over an hour ago to get you.”

Dash gave a shrug. “Haven’t seen him.”

Crackle stared at him in confusion and then his brow furrowed suspiciously. Getting up without a word, he left the room to hunt down Neal. When he didn’t find him anywhere upstairs, he began looking on the lower level. He found Neal in the kitchen sitting at the kitchen table eating sugar cookies and chatting in a friendly fashion with Mime Bomb and Paper Star.

“ **Neal** !” Crackle hissed out angrily.

Neal turned to look at him guiltily and Crackle let out an irritated sigh. Neal held out a star-shaped cookie towards him, offering him a smile. “Cookie?”

Crackle scowled, but snatched the cookie all the same. “Go out and stay with the others,” he ordered, “Paper Star, what are you doing?!”

“Mime Bomb is teaching me how to bake cookies,” she responded unapologetically, “It’s being added to my Life Book.”

Crackle glared at Mime Bomb, but he didn’t really see the mime as much of a threat, and so he wasn’t too concerned.

“Just gonna be honest with ya here, wombat,” Neal said, “You and I both know I’m going to be wherever there’s food. As long as there are cookies here, this is where I’m going to keep coming back to.”

Crackle took a bite of the cookie, and glared at Neal, knowing what he said was true. Neal was attracted to sugar like a moth to a flame, and he would likely keep disobeying him in favour of sweets without hesitation. It would just be frustrating for everyone to fight it.

“The cookie’s good,” Crackle commented to Paper Star, turning to leave the kitchen, “Fine, Neal, I give up. Do what you want.” 

Once Crackle was gone, Neal smiled wide, knowing he’d won this battle and reached for his tenth cookie. Mime Bomb gave him a disapproving look and pushed the tin of cookies out of his reach, wanting there to be enough for everyone else. Neal’s reaction to that was to lean across the table and grab another one. Mime Bomb flicked a piece of cookie dough at him in annoyance, and Neal laughed, wiping it off his forehead.

“I’ll help you make another batch, love,” he promised, “I don’t know how to cook though... but I can cut out the shapes and decorate them if you make the dough.”

Mime Bomb gave an over-exaggerated roll of the eyes, and then began reaching for the bag of flour to start a second batch. Paper Star smiled and seemed completely content to help with another batch.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Crackle slowly took a seat across from Carmen on the couch and then crossed his arms, clearly not very happy with this situation.

“I want you to answer a few questions,” he ordered.

Carmen raised a brow at his aggressive tone, but he nodded all the same. “I’ll answer what I can,” she promised.

Crackle glanced over as Otterman took a seat beside him, and he noted the worried expression on his face.

“I’m not going to start a fight, Sven,” Crackle stated, “I just want answers.”

Otterman nodded silently and patted the orange kitten he held in his arms. Crackle didn’t tell him to leave, and instead turned his attention back to Carmen.

“I want to know more about Dr. Vesalius’ experiments.”

Carmen stared at Crackle’s determined expression and she had a feeling he’d been through something awful.

“Mime Bomb should be here for this,” she replied, “He was put through absolute hell at that lab, and he can answer more than I can.”

“I’ll get him,” Zack volunteered, getting up to head for the kitchen.

“I grew up on V.I.L.E island, but I didn’t really know Dr. Vess that well,” Carmen explained, “I thought he was just a regular doctor hired to care for the students, and I truly believed he was a nice person. He also seemed very kind when we met, but now I realize it was all just an act. Vess shot me without hesitation, and he’s far worse than I ever could have imagined.”

“I’m assuming that’s where your team was for a few months?” Crackle guessed, “Sticking around while you recovered from your stupidity?”

Carmen flushed. “...yeah, it took months for me to heal. We didn’t know Mime Bomb was my cousin at the time but he was a perfect match as a donor and so he donated part of his liver to me.”

Mime Bomb entered the room and took a seat beside Carmen looking a little bit wary. Zack was carrying a massive tray of cookies and he set them down on the coffee table with a grin.

“Mime Bomb made cookies!” he announced.

Crackle took one and then glanced over at the mime. “What can you tell me about Vess’ experiments?”

Mime Bomb grimaced and then began signing.

“Vess is trying to create the perfect soldier for V.I.L.E,” Zack translated, “That lab did horrific experiments on me as a child, but hundreds of other children weren’t as lucky as me. I’m the only one to escape as far as I know, and after the lab burned down, the research was lost. Vess has been trying to get his hands on me, and I know for a fact he will kill me in order to complete his research.”

Crackle furrowed his brow. “Vess has been using children to experiment on?”

He remembered the pain and misery of the couple months he’d experienced at the lab and couldn’t imagine living there. Crackle rubbed at his head and then took a bite of the cookie.

“The experiment works best on children since they’re still growing,” Zack translated, “Siren has managed to stop Vess from getting any shipments of children, but eventually Vess will manage to get his hands on some.”

“Siren?” Crackle questioned, “Who’s Siren?”

“He’s our man on the inside,” Carmen replied, “He’s going to help us get inside the lab, and help us take Vess down.”

Crackle knew Carmen was taking a serious risk by telling him this and he honestly found it stupid. He could tip off V.I.L.E and ruin everything for them. Crackle hated that lab however, and he was honestly glad it was going to be destroyed.

He listened as Zack translated for Mime Bomb, and he was completely disgusted by what Vess had been up to. V.I.L.E had been fully prepared to kill him, and they were planning on using his teammates as the next test subjects. V.I.L.E knew the experiment would never be fully successful on an adult and so they knew the experiments would likely kill them.

“What can you tell us about the lab?” Carmen asked, giving him a concerned look, “What do you remember?”

Crackle narrowed his eyes at Carmen, and considered her request. They owed V.I.L.E no loyalty, and they could cut off their work contract at any point. Crackle would find it incredibly cathartic to watch that lab burn to the ground, but that would mean helping Carmen. He glanced over at Otterman beside him who offered him an encouraging smile. If Otterman was truly related to Carmen and Mime Bomb, then that would mean their two teams would likely be seeing a lot of each other.

“If Sven is your cousin, you better  **never** do anything to hurt him or betray his trust,” Crackle warned, “If you  **ever** try to use him to get at the rest of my team, this will be  **war ** between our teams.”

“I would never do that!” Carmen replied, sounding offended.

Crackle gave her a skeptical look.

“I want our teams to work together to take down Vess’ lab, and I just want to know what you experienced at the lab.”

Crackle grimaced at the idea of working together, but he honestly knew this was the best course of action. He detested Vess and the head faculty and wanted them to pay for what they did to him and the rest of his team.

“I don’t remember a lot,” Crackle hesitantly replied, “They wiped my mind more times than I can count, but they could never get it quite right.”

Carmen leaned forward in her seat, but she didn’t interrupt.

Crackle rubbed his head, the familiar migraine coming back as he struggled to remember.

“I was working in Sydney when I was grabbed from behind in broad daylight. I was yanked into a van, I saw The Cleaners and the next thing I knew they had sprayed some sort of green gas in my face. When I woke up, I was tied to a gurney in Vess’ lab.”

Crackle paused and rubbed at his head again, the memories agonizing to think about.

“I was kept in a plain white room and the only person I ever saw was Vess, and his very unbalanced assistant. Vess was constantly injecting me with things that made my blood feel like it was boiling, and I took more pills than I can even count. Every day was a confused mess of pain and more pain, and it was pure hell. I remember begging for Vess to kill me at one point, but he never acknowledged anything I said. It was like I wasn’t a person to him, and it was wretched.

At one point, Vess’ assistant went off his rocker and stabbed me in the leg with a scalpel, and I nearly bled to death. I was so drugged up at the time that I barely even felt it. Vess was  **furious** , and I never saw that assistant again. Vess erased my mind over and over until I remembered nothing at all. That’s when I was sent to Dr. Bellum.”

Carmen’s expression was deeply concerned, and she took Mime Bomb’s hand, knowing he went through the exact same thing. Otterman knew they’d been planning on doing this to Moose Boy, and just the thought of it made him feel sick. He would have believed V.I.L.E that Moose Boy was dead, and then he would have been trapped at Vess’ lab for the rest of his life.

Otterman hugged Chanel close, the tiny purring creature making him feel a little better. What would he do without Moose Boy? They’d been together so long that he couldn’t even imagine life without him. He didn’t say a word, but he did glance over at Moose Boy who was still chatting about sports with the twins.

“My time with Doctor Bellum was absolutely horrendous,” Crackle continued, “I was put through conditioning and was severely beaten and tortured any time I showed any signs of emotion or weakness. She almost destroyed who I was completely, and it was only with the help of my team that I was finally able to break free of her control.”

“Do you remember everything now?” Carmen asked hopefully.

“I remember most things, but it’s difficult. Trying too hard to remember causes pain, and so I usually don’t try to force it.”

Carmen hesitated. “Do...do you remember the academy?”

Crackle knew what she was getting at and he frowned at her as he nodded.

“Do you remember our friendship?” She asked, “Our little group of friends?”

Crackle heaved a sigh and looked away. “I do,” he confirmed.

Carmen was relieved and she gave him a wide smile. “I’ve missed you so much, and I really hope we can all be friends now. I’ve made some terrible mistakes, and so have you, but I want to put all of this behind us.”

Crackle rolled his eyes. “We’re different people now, Carmen, the boy you knew is dead.”

“No,” Carmen denied, “We’ve both been through a lot, but the sweet and goofy Gray is still in there! I know it!”

Crackle scoffed and then snatched another cookie from the tray.

“What exactly is V.I.L.E planning on doing with these ‘super-soldiers’?” he asked, turning his gaze to Mime Bomb.

“When the lab was still Volkov, they were trying to create an army to take control of every criminal organization that opposed them. My uncle, Maxim, wanted to annihilate V.I.L.E and all other competitors.”

Crackle didn’t like the sound of that. “And now you suspect V.I.L.E is up to the same thing?”

Carmen and Mime Bomb both nodded. Crackle took a bite of his cookie and thought about this carefully. If V.I.L.E began wiping out the competition, that would put his own team at risk as well. What chance would they ever have against an entire army? V.I.L.E would have no use for them, and since they’d be competition, they’d be wiped out. Crackle glanced around at his team, and knew he could never allow that to happen. His team was his family, and it was his job to protect them.

“I want some time to think about this,” Crackle finally said, “I will approach you later when I’ve had time to consider this.”

“Um, Graham?” Otterman said hesitantly.

Crackle glanced over at him.

“Would it be alright if i stayed to chat with Carmen and Mime Bomb for a while?”

Crackle glanced over at Carmen and then narrowed his eyes.

“I’ll allow it,” he stated, slowly getting to his feet, “You will immediately tell me if they try to get any information out of you.”

Otterman nodded.

Crackle walked away from them without another word, and Otterman gave his cousins a hesitant smile. 

“You mentioned that you met our grandparents in India?” he questioned, “Is that where they’re based or did they travel here specifically to meet you?”

Mime Bomb shrugged. 

“As far as I know they have bases all over the world. They move from place to place to avoid V.I.L.E putting out a hit on them. Their main base is in the outskirts of Moscow.”

“...will you tell me a bit more about them?”

Mime Bomb could see the uncertainty in the other man’s eyes and so he offered him a gentle smile.

“What would you like to know?”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Dash stared across the room where Crackle was having a meeting with Carmen, but he couldn’t hear what was being said. He stroked Steve as he shamelessly stared, and he ignored the rest of his teammates' boring conversations. He saw how Otterman hugged and patted Chanel every single time he looked upset over something, and it surprisingly seemed to help. Otterman seemed a little less stressed than usual, and so Dash chose to ignore the fact he’d once again stolen the kitten. Moose Boy and Otterman had been stealing Chanel non-stop since she was born and Dash was beginning to suspect that she liked them better than him. It was frustrating, and Dash looked down at Steve, glad that she at least had a little loyalty to him. No one else could touch Steve without getting a face full of claws, and that’s the way Dash liked it.

Dash refused breakfast and he refused the cookies that people kept offering him. He was still feeling on edge and he couldn’t seem to relax. Everyone else was having a good time, and Dash felt like an outsider who didn’t belong. If Neal had been just a minute later saving him, the team would have been celebrating the holidays without him. 

Dash shuddered and once again looked down at Steve. What would have happened to his cats if he’d died? Would Crackle keep them or would he give them all away? No one liked Steve besides Dash, and he worried what would happen to her. Would she end up back on the street? 

Dash glanced over at El Topo and Le Chèvre who were sitting on the other end of the couch ignoring him. They were leaning into each other’s embrace while staring into the flames of the fireplace, and Dash quickly looked away. He felt frustrated and angry, and couldn’t exactly put his finger on why. Letting out a deep and annoyed sigh, he slowly got to his feet, needing to visit the outhouse.

Dash gave another glance to Crackle, but the other man was still speaking with Carmen. Dash approached the coat hooks and was disgusted to see someone had put a coat over his own. Dropping the other coat on the floor, he removed his coat and slipped it on, pulling on his gloves and hat, knowing it was going to be freezing cold outside. He’d purposely waited until someone else had shovelled a path, and he knew he’d have to hurry before the path was snowed in.

No one paid any attention to Dash as he left out the back door, and Dash was in such a hurry he didn’t notice Steve following him outside. The wind was positively bitter and Dash pulled his collar up as he sprinted across the path towards the outhouse. Reaching the small building, he opened the door and slipped inside, closing the door directly in Steve’s face. The wind was howling all around the building and he couldn’t hear Steve’s pitiful meows as she pawed at the door. Dash didn’t notice and glanced around in complete disgust at the outhouse. He stared at the three toilet seats and wondered if people really used the bathroom at the same time in Nunavut. 

Dash peed as fast as he could and tried his hardest not to breathe through his nose. As soon as he was done, he immediately pulled a tube of hand sanitizer out of his pocket and thoroughly cleansed his hands. Freezing cold, and thoroughly disgusted, he couldn’t wait to get back inside. As Dash went to leave, he quickly realized the door wouldn’t open. Dash glanced at the door, but there was no lock on it. Furrowing his brow he pushed it again and again, but it would budge.

“Are you kidding me?!” Dash muttered angrily.

He threw his shoulder against the door, but it wouldn’t open. Did it somehow latch closed on the outside? Dash kicked the door a few times, but the wood was too solid to break. Dash was getting colder and colder and he shivered and had no idea what to do. Glancing around the tiny room, he didn’t see anything he could use to aid his escape.

A wave of fear made its way up his spine. Oh god, he was going to die in an outhouse. His obituary was going to list this as cause of death. People would be making jokes about it for generations. 

Dash wasn’t wearing nearly enough layers to endure this type of cold. He’d assumed he’d just be a minute, but now his hands and feet were quickly turning numb from the cold. Maybe he really was meant to die on this mission? Perhaps this was some sort of Final Destination situation? Dash felt panic fill him and he banged and screamed at the door, refusing to die in such an embarrassing way. Five minutes passed and Dash was certain he was going to die. Dash began to scream even louder.

That’s when the door suddenly opened and Mime Bomb peered in at him with a questioning look on his face. Dash had never been so relieved to see a clown in his entire life, and he rushed for the door.

“This damn door latched closed!” he bellowed out angrily, “This entire place is a death trap and I never should have come on this stupid mission!”

Dash then stormed away from Mime Bomb, muttering curses as he went. Mime Bomb watched him go and then rolled his eyes at the theatrics. Shaking his head, he turned to close the outhouse door when something caught his attention. There was a lump of snow in front of the outhouse that was an odd shape. Using the toe of his boot, he gave it a light nudge and snow rolled off revealing orange fur. Mime Bomb backed up a step. An animal?! Frowning, he then knelt down and brushed off the snow and saw Steve laying there eyes closed.

Mime Bomb gasped and glanced back towards the cabin. Dash’s cat! Reaching out, Mime Bomb gently scooped the cat into his arms and he was relieved to feel she was breathing. Steve let out a weak hiss, but didn’t offer any resistance. Mime Bomb cradled her close to his body and then ran for the cabin, knowing he had to get her inside. 

When he burst into the cabin, everyone looked up and Dash’s eyes immediately fell on the cat.

“Steve!”

Dash rushed across the room and grabbed Steve from Mime Bomb’s arms.

“Was she outside?!” Dash cried, brushing the snow out of her fur.

Mime Bomb nodded.

Dash carried her over to the fire and knelt beside it, knowing he had to warm her up fast. Crackle was beside him a moment later with a blanket and Dash wrapped her in it, and then began rubbing her all over. 

“What happened?” Neal demanded, entering from the kitchen.

“Dash’s cat got outside and froze,” Ivy responded, “Mime Bomb found it.”

Neal stared at Dash’s distraught expression and slowly approached.

“Is she...okay?” Neal hesitantly asked.

Steve chose that exact moment to hiss at Neal and take a swipe at him with her claws. Dash immediately hugged her close.

“Oh, I think she’s okay!” he said in relief.

“I’d say she’s her usual self, fancy,” Neal teased, “That’s the both of you that nearly froze to death!”

Dash went silent and simply held Steve close. First Neal had saved his life, and then Mime Bomb, and then the mime saved Steve as well. Feeling completely overwhelmed, Dash snarled at everyone to get away from him. He was given a few concerned looks, but both teams backed away from him, and Dash was left alone with Steve.

It was his fault Steve had almost died. She always followed him everywhere and he should have known she was behind him. He couldn’t blame anyone except himself, and he was furious about it. 

“I’m sorry, Steve,” he whispered quietly.

Now that Steve was warmed up, she began purring and enjoying the attention. Dash fell silent, and simply sat next to the fire holding her.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Dash had been avoiding Neal the entire day, carefully not looking at him every time they were in the same room together. He could feel Neal’s gaze on him, but he pretended not to notice. Neal knew something was wrong, and he kept trying to talk to him, but Dash ignored every attempt Neal made to engage him. Most people assumed Dash was in a bad mood over what happened to Steve, but Neal suspected otherwise.

Dash knew he was being ridiculous, but everytime he so much as glanced at Neal, it reminded him of the fact he had died. Neal had saved his life, and Dash felt the fear of it every single time he looked at him. He wasn’t ready to deal with this trauma yet, and so he was avoiding it at all costs. 

His stomach was in knots and he refused all food offered to him, and simply sat quietly next to the fire, ignoring everyone else around him. Everyone was laughing and joking from all sides of the room, but Dash kept his attention on the fire. He found himself lost in thought, his mind always going back to the avalanche. 

The others knew something was wrong with Dash, but he was being so irritable and snarky that they kept their distance. Neal was worried, but it wasn’t lost on him that his presence made it even worse, and so he simply kept an eye on him from afar. 

It got dark early that evening, and Team Crackle were invited to join Day 3 of Hanukkah with the others, and Crackle had given up at this point and simply allowed it. Team Red had proven they weren’t an immediate threat to his team, and so Crackle was finally allowing himself to relax.

Dash remained where he was by the fire, but he watched the lighting of the candles in vague interest. Everyone seemed so happy and it made him feel like even more of a jerk for being so snarky with his teammates. Knowing they’d be better off without him bringing down the mood in the room, he silently got up and left the room while everyone was distracted. He’d spend the rest of the night in his room, and maybe go to bed early.

Dash only got halfway down the hallway before someone caught him by the arm. Glancing back angrily, he was surprised to see it was Theodore.

“Teddy, what the hell are y-”

He abruptly cut off when the enormous man pulled him into a tight hug. Dash immediately began to squirm.

“What the- **Teddy** !” he protested.

“You almost died yesterday and it scared you,” Theodore told him gently, “It scared you  **bad** , and you need someone to give you a hug.”

Dash tried unsuccessfully to get away. “I do  **not** need a hug!” he snarled, “Let me go, you damn gorilla!”

“No,” Theodore responded, tightening the hug, “I may not be very smart, but I know you need this. You were in a bad accident, and you almost died. You need to talk about it, and you need us; you need your family!”

Dash frowned up at him and struggled uselessly.

“You’re upset, and you’re not eating,” Theodore said softly, “I’m going to keep hugging you until you don’t hurt anymore.”

“Dammit it, Teddy! I’m  **fine** !” Dash snapped, struggling uselessly against the hold. “Let. Me. Go!”

Theodore shook his head. “No, you need this. You’re not as mean as you pretend to be...Now, why are you mad at Neal?” Theodore demanded, “You’ve been refusing to talk to him all day, and I think it’s hurting his feelings.”

Dash let out a deep and angry sigh. “I’m not mad at Neal,” he snapped.

“Then what’s the problem?” Theodore demanded, “Why won’t you talk to him? You two are always chatting and teasing each other, but today...nothing. You won’t even look at him. Did he do something to you?”

“I just don’t feel like talking about it, okay?” Dash snarled, giving another ineffective struggle.

“No, it’s  **not** okay, Dash Haber!” Theodore scolded firmly, “Talk to me about it, or I swear I’m  **never** letting you go.”

Dash muttered several curses angrily under his breath and then sagged into the hug in defeat. Dash would never in a million years admit it, but the hug actually felt good and he found himself relaxing very slightly. Theodore saw the difference in Dash’s body language and then asked.

“Will you tell me about it?”

Dash squeezed his eyes closed. “You’re right,” he admitted hesitantly, “It scared me. When I found out I had actually died yesterday, it absolutely terrified me.”

Theodore nodded in understanding. “It was a scary thing that happened and you’re lucky Neal was there.”

Dash sucked in a sharp breath and Theodore frowned. “Are you upset because Neal saved you?” he asked in surprise.

“Yes...no...maybe...I don’t know,” Dash admitted. “It’s complicated.”

“Tell me what you’re feeling,” Theodore ordered.

Dash felt utterly defeated, and simply told him what was on his mind. “Every time I look at him, all I can think of is the fact that if it wasn’t for him, I’d be dead right now. How many times has he saved me now? Five, six times? This was the first time I actually died though...and I don’t know what to say to him.”

Theodore frowned as he thought about Dash’s words. “You don’t know how to say thank you?” he guessed.

“It’s more complicated than that!”

Theodore shook his head. “No, I don’t think it is.”

“Oh, what would  **you** know,” Dash snapped.

Theodore rested a hand on top of Dash’s head. “Just tell him thank you, silly. You’re scared, and you need to let us help you get through it. We’re not going to make fun of you for needing us, and we’re not going to judge you. You’re important to us and we’ll always help you.”

Dash was not expecting Theodore to say this, and looked up at him, seeing the other man’s eyes were completely genuine. Dash quickly looked away.

“Talk to the rest of the team about how you’re feeling, and we’ll do everything we can to help you get through this.”

“Thank you, Teddy…” Dash mumbled, feeling his face heat up in embarrassment. 

“Now, are you going to eat something and join us in having some Christmas Eve fun?” Theodore questioned.

Dash gave a silent nod, which seemed to satisfy Theodore.

“Oh...er, sorry to interrupt...whatever this is,” came a voice from behind them.

Dash turned his head to see Chase standing there staring at them a bit awkwardly. Dash narrowed his eyes at him as Theodore finally released him from the hug.

“What do  **you** want, Scar, shouldn’t you be out looking for a nephew to murder?” Dash snarled nastily.

Theodore pinged one of Dash’s ears painfully, and Dash let out a yelp, raising a hand to his ear in surprise.

“Be nice,” Theodore scolded, “It’s Christmas!”

Dash rubbed at his ear with a sour look on his face. “Sorry,” he muttered, not really sounding like he meant it.

Chase ignored the jab about his scar, and gave them both a nod. “I’m looking for Julia, have you seen her?”

Theodore nodded. “I saw her go upstairs just a few minutes ago.”

As Dash slipped away to head upstairs as well, Theodore turned a frown at him. “I thought you were going to join us in the living room?”

“I’ll be down in a minute,” Dash told him, “I just need a few minutes to myself.”

Theodore nodded, looking a bit skeptical. “I’m gonna drag you down here if you take longer than five minutes,” he vowed.

Dash rolled his eyes and hurried up the stairs, just wanting a few moments alone to take a breather. The moment he was in his room, he took a seat on his bed and let out a groan of frustration. Why had he told Theodore all that? Now he seemed like a pathetic mess! Dash sighed. Who was he kidding, he  **was** a pathetic mess.

Dash stared down at the crumpled blue sweater on the floor, and frowned at it. Theodore was right in saying he owed Neal a thank you. None of this was Neal’s fault, and it wasn’t fair to keep treating him like this. Neal had done nothing wrong, and the other man had gone out of his way to make sure the whole team were always happy and safe. Neal had a way of always cheering people up, and Dash knew it must have been bothering the other man a lot that Dash was ignoring him. 

Dash ran his fingers over the soft blue sweater and heaved a sigh of defeat. It was going to kill him to do it, but he had to thank Neal for saving his life. He felt like he’d never be able to get past this trauma unless he started to address it.

Dash let out another groan. Neal was probably going to be so insufferable about this if he thanked him and apologized for being a bitch. 

Slowly he looked down at the blue sweater again. He noted that Neal had actually taken the time to find a sweater that wasn’t made of wool, the other man knowing how much Dash despised the scratchy material. Neal had actually put a lot of work into giving the team a good Christmas and Dash sighed.

“Damn that greasy Kiwi,” he muttered, slipping the sweater over his head.

Dash was part of the team, and it was time for him to act like it.

Taking a deep breath to prepare himself, he stood up and headed for the door, finally ready to talk to Neal.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Neal snickered as he watched El Topo and Le Chèvre kiss underneath the mistletoe for the eighth time that night.

“Those guys are a cute couple,” he commented, reaching over and grabbing a handful of popcorn out of Zack’s bowl.

Zack rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I guess,” he admitted, “I just wish they’d get it over with and just propose already. We all know it’s coming.”

Neal grinned widely. “Oy, you two!” he called across the room.

El Topo and Le Chèvre turned to stare at him in surprise. Le Chèvre immediately narrowed his eyes, fully prepared for some sort of negative comment directed at them.

“I expect an invite to the wedding!” Neal said loudly, “I love weddings, so don’t forget my invitation.”

El Topo flushed red in embarrassment and immediately turned to look at Le Chèvre, who simply rolled his eyes at Neal.

“We are  **not** inviting him to our wedding,” he commented with a sneer.

El Topo’s eyes widened. “Our wedding?” he repeated.

It was now Le Chèvre’s turn to flush in embarrassment. “Uh...I mean...our wedding someday?”

El Topo smiled at his partner’s obvious predicament and pulled him down for another kiss to help ease the tension. When they pulled apart, El Topo was still smiling.

“I trust when the day comes that you propose to me, you’ll do it in a very romantic fashion?”

Le Chèvre returned the smile. “Of course, mon amour. It will be the most memorable night of our lives.”

Neal was laughing at what he had caused, and Zack stared at him with wide eyes.

“You...you just got them to pre-propose!”

Neal rubbed his nails on his sweater. “All in a day’s work. So you kiss anybody under the mistletoe yet, ginger?”

Zack shook his head. “Naw, I’m not interested in anyone here.”

“Not even Mime Bomb?”

Zack immediately pulled a horrified face. “Dude, he’s my  **brother** !”

Neal’s eyes widened, not expecting this. “Wait...really? Oops, I guess I read  **that** whole situation wrong…”

“Well, adopted brother, but he feels like blood family to me.”

Neal laughed and then glanced at Zack, grinning cheekily, “So...he’s not seeing anyone?”

Zack raised an eyebrow. “You fishing here, Neal? Because I can tell you right now he’s been complaining about you  **all** day long. You’ve been driving him nuts by following him around teasing him. He’s about ready to lock you outside.”

Neal shrugged. “It’s what I do, love, can’t change who I am.”

“Well, have  **you** kissed anyone under the mistletoe?”

“I think we all know that I haven’t.” Neal responded, with a snort, “But dare me to kiss the next person who walks in the room?”

Zack’s eyes widened. “You  **wouldn’t** !”

Neal’s grin widened. “Wanna bet?”

Zack shook his head in disbelief. “No matter who it is? You wouldn’t dare!”

“Wanna bet?” Neal repeated.

“But what if it’s Sheena...or my sister...or  **Roosevelt** ?!”

“So, you  **don’t** want to take the bet?”

Zack scratched at his chin, certain there was no way Neal would actually go through with it. “What’s the bet?”

Neal glanced around thoughtfully. “If I chicken out, I’ll shovel the way to the outhouse for you, and you’ll do it if I win.”

That was a pretty mild bet, and Zack stuck out his hand towards him. “Deal.”

Shadowsan, who was seated nearby rolled his eyes, annoyed by the childish nonsense but trying his best to ignore it. Knowing having Zack and Neal together was bound to end in annoyance, he simply sighed, and turned the page in his book. He was not getting involved in this foolishness.

Moose Boy and Otterman were curled up together in front of the fire, and they were ignoring everyone else as they quietly chatted with each other in Swedish. Carmen and Crackle were also quietly chatting and by Crackle’s annoyed expression, it wasn’t going well.

Neal shook Zack’s hand and then got to his feet, stretching as he did so. He then casually sidled up to the doorway to wait. Zack watched like a hawk, certain this was going to end with Neal being punched in the face.

They didn’t have to wait long, and just moments later Neal grinned when he saw who passed through the doorway. Chase and Julia had entered the room side by side and were arguing about something in a friendly manner, neither paying Neal the least bit of attention. 

Neal stepped in front of them, and they stopped walking in surprise, and glanced at him as he approached. Without a single word, Neal pulled Julia in for a kiss, and she went stiff as a board, her eyes widening in shock. It was clear she had no idea how to react to this.

Chase was instantly bristling, ready to defend her. “HEY, DON’T YOU DARE-”

Neal then released her and grabbed Chase by the front of the shirt, and pulled him in for a kiss as well. Chase’s eyes went wide as saucers, and just like with Julia, he went rigid in pure shock. When Neal released Chase, he gave them both a smirk and then pointed up at the mistletoe. They both glanced up, and then Julia turned a bit red and adjusted her glasses.

“Er...sorry, Neal, but you’re not my type…”

Chase gave an embarrassed cough. “I’m not...you’re not...um, no thank you.”

Neal rolled his eyes with a sigh. “You guys are no fun,” he commented, “It was just a joke. I wasn’t hitting on either of you. Relax and try to avoid the mistletoe!”

“Neal, stop being an idiot,” Dash commented, stepping into the room beside the others, “Nobody wants your greasy lips on them.”

Neal turned towards him, immediately taking note that Dash was wearing the Christmas sweater he’d given him. Neal smiled wide at that, and could see a complete difference in Dash’s demeanor. He didn’t know what had been bothering Dash earlier, but whatever it was seemed to be resolved. He’d noticed the silent treatment Dash had been giving him all day, and was honestly relieved it looked like things were finally going back to normal. 

“Only having a bit of Christmas fun, fancy,” Neal defended, giving a wink to Julia and Chase, “No hard feelings, right?”

They both still seemed flustered and they exchanged a look with one another.

“‘Er...a bit rude, but harmless...I suppose,” Chase admitted.

Julia offered him a smile, still looking a bit embarrassed. “I suppose we should have been keeping a better eye out for mistletoe,” she stated.

Neal glanced over at Zack who was staring at him open-mouthed, unable to believe Neal had just kissed both Julia  **and ** Chase. He was honestly a bit impressed by the gall. Shadowsan simply looked even grumpier than usual, shooting Neal a disapproving look.

“If you’re done sexually harassing everyone, I’d like to get in the room now,” Dash said, using his snottiest tone of voice.

Neal raised an eyebrow. “Better be careful, Dashie, you’re standing under the mistletoe too.”

Dash gave him a baleful stare and Neal held up his hands and backed away a step. “I won’t, I promise,” he assured him.

Julia and Chase both gave Neal one last flustered look, and then fully entered the room, allowing Dash to follow them in. 

Nose in the air, Dash strode into the room, glaring at Neal out of the corner of his eye as he did so. Neal rolled his eyes, but had no intention of breaking his word. Dash’s posture relaxed when he saw Neal wasn’t going to manhandle him, and he paused. To Neal’s complete and utter shock, Dash suddenly turned towards him, grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him in close. Dash planted a gentle kiss on Neal’s cheek and then released him.

“Thank you for saving my life,” Dash whispered so lowly it was barely audible, “You can keep the shiny.”

Dash then continued into the living room as if nothing had happened. Neal blinked a couple times, and then turned around but Dash was already halfway across the living room, heading for the rest of the team.

Neal gave another confused blink. “Er...what?”

Zack who had been watching seemed shocked, but he gave Neal a thumb’s up all the same.

Shaking his head, Neal headed over to join the others, confused, but not complaining. Theodore held out the tray of cookies towards Dash the second he neared, and to everyone’s relief, he took one.

The entire team were now together and they began chatting and teasing each other in a good-natured way. It didn’t take long for everyone to begin laughing and joking with one another, simply enjoying their little found family. As it got later, the mood in the living room became a bit sleepy and both teams began to relax.

“Sing for us, Teddy!” Neal suddenly begged.

Theodore turned red. “No, no, I can’t…”

“Come on,” Neal said. “It’s Christmas, let’s hear some carols! You have a great voice!”

Theodore was in a good mood and he reluctantly agreed.

“You two haven’t heard Teddy sing yet, but he’s really good!” Crackle told Moose Boy and Otterman, “He sang for us during the fourth of July celebrations.”

“My little brother was a lot better than I ever was,” Theodore commented, “He loved to sing, and we used to practice together all the time.”

Otterman offered him an encouraging smile. “I’d love to hear you sing if you don’t mind.”

Theodore nodded, and glanced towards the fireplace, feeling warm and comfortable. Team Crackle all quickly gathered closely around him, and when Paper Star took a seat, Roosevelt edged over beside her, placing an arm loosely around her shoulders. She looked up at him in surprise, and he simply smiled over at his brother, as if his actions were completely the norm. He wasn’t even looking at her, and she cocked her head as she considered this. She then shrugged and leaned against him as she turned her attention back towards Theodore.

“Any requests?” Theodore asked, laughing at how eager his team seemed.

“Do ‘White Christmas’ I like that one,” Dash requested, taking a bite of his fifth cookie.

Theodore nodded, and then cleared his throat nervously. At the first few notes of his song, Team Red froze and turned to stare at him in surprise. They stopped everything they were doing to simply stare at him, and no one said a word. No one would have ever suspected Theodore could sing by looking at him, and slowly one by one, Team Red began edging over to sit with Team Crackle. As Theodore sang the words strong and clear, everyone in the room simply sat in complete silence. 

They didn’t feel like enemies, and no one even thought about it. For a very brief time, they were all one giant team simply sitting together as the clock struck midnight.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**The next chapter should be posted in 2 weeks. Chapter 34-38 are all part of the Christmas fic re-write. Now that we know all the characters, nothing can be spoiled, and the fic has been re-written to include everyone in it. If you've already read the Christmas fic posted back in December, I'd still check out the next few chapters because a lot has been added. The Christmas fic re-write will be the next four chapters since a lot of new stuff happens in it!**

**Violetfic did the awesome pic of Neal/Dash!**

.

**Credit for the names of Otterman and Moose Boy go to Animedemon01**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**

**Please don't forget to let me know what you think! **


	38. Christmas Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone!
> 
> Here is the last chapter of the Christmas arc! Only 3 chapters left of Broken now! :) I hope you guys enjoyed the Christmas fic and it was a lot of fun to write!
> 
> An enormous thank you to the very awesome Violetfic and Coulrosaurus for offering plenty of good suggestions, and for being my betas! They both seriously offered SO many suggestions for this fic that they both deserve some recognition! You guys really helped improve this story a lot and you're awesome!
> 
> Please note that Dr. Vess and Michael Jr. both use the F-word extremely frequently in their everyday speech. You have been warned. Dr. Vess was created by Violetfic, and I am using him with her permission.
> 
> If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 38**

**Christmas Day**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Vess seemed genuinely angry, and Siren watched him warily as he smashed a glass into the kitchen sink. Michael had never come back out, and Siren was worried that if he moved from the couch, Vess would turn his anger on him. He simply sat still and silent, watching as Vess stomped around muttering to himself. Finally Vess grumbled something about going back to the lab, and stormed out of the apartment. Siren waited several seconds to make sure he was actually gone and then hesitantly got up from the couch.

Now that he was alone, Siren picked up Michael’s painting and inspected it, and had to admit it was incredibly good. He stared at all the details, unable to believe a man who couldn’t figure out long division, had created such a beautiful painting. Siren had zero artistic talent and so he could appreciate how difficult it was to make something like this. Gently setting the painting aside, he glanced towards the closed bedroom door and debated for a moment.

Siren approached the door and then hesitated, listening for any sounds within. He heard nothing and so he knocked on the door, and opened it. Michael glanced up from where he was curled up in bed, and when he saw who it was, his expression immediately settled into a scowl.

“Get out!” Michael snarled.

“Vess left and so now would be the perfect time to visit DD,” Siren informed him, “Get your ass out of bed, stop sulking, and let’s get going.”

Michael blinked in surprise. “Numa left?”

Siren nodded. “Yeah, he stormed out a few minutes ago and said he was going to his lab.”

Michael raised his hands to his head and groaned. He’d made a complete fool of himself and now Vess was angry at him.

“I’m so stupid…” Michael commented, “I’ve ruined Christmas for Numa.”

Siren simply stared at him. Michael was the one who had experienced the disappointment and embarrassment of the situation, but yet he still blamed himself for it. Siren sighed and shook his head. He was starting to feel a little bad for the other man, but with Michael’s wretched personality, it made it rather difficult. 

As he stared at Michael’s miserable expression, he let out a sigh.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Siren found himself saying, “Numa was a dumbass and didn’t even realize it looked like he was proposing. Anyone would have thought the same thing as you.”

“I just feel so stupid,” Michael groaned, “He’s never going to marry me, is he?”

Siren thought about lying and then slowly shook his head. “Honestly, MJ, I doubt it. Numa’s not the sentimental type, and he probably sees marriage as a waste of time. You two are already together and so it’s unlikely he’ll want to change your relationship.”

Michael looked up at him. “Yeah, you’re right,” he agreed, “Numa is a little...set in his ways.”

“That’s a very diplomatic way of calling someone a stubborn asshole.”

Michael scowled at him and stood to his feet. “Don’t you insult him!” he snapped, “Numa is the greatest man who ever lived! His experiments are going to change the whole world! You’re just an ugly, little goblin who’s jealous of him!”

Siren raised an eyebrow. “Whatever you say, MJ…”

Michael narrowed his eyes and then let out a deep sigh. “Did Numa really leave?”

Siren nodded.

“I’ll make this up to him when he gets back,” Michael vowed, not noticing the way Siren cringed, “I’ll make sure he has a good first Christmas!”

Siren simply shook his head and then turned away. “Are you going to help with DD or not?” he demanded, “We don’t have a lot of time and so you need to make up your mind and hurry up.”

Michael hesitated a moment, not liking the fact he was being bossed around, but he knew Siren was right.

“Alright,” Michael agreed, “I have the stuff hidden in the hallway closet. I don’t think Numa found it.”

Michael pushed past Siren and left the bedroom, trying to forget his problems for the time being. Opening the hall closet, he moved several heavy boxes out of his way and then pulled out two massive garbage bags filled with things. Siren simply stared in surprise.

“How much did you buy her?!” 

Michael shrugged and looked away. “Dunno...a few thousand dollars worth I guess?”

Siren looked down at the very tiny gift in his own hands and wondered if she’d even want it. He couldn’t buy her anything new and so he’d wrapped something he’d already had in his room. He slowly put his tiny gift away in his pocket.

“I’ll carry all this shit, but you grab the cookies and drinks,” Michael ordered, already heading for the door.

Siren did as he was told and grabbed the plate of cookies that Michael had spent hours decorating, and then a case of Pepsi from the fridge. He then followed after Michael who now seemed excited again. Siren remembered how Michael had been before Vess got his claws in him, and knew how much Vess had twisted and corrupted him. It was a shame, but there was nothing Siren could do about it. Michael was who he was, and he’d made his own choices.

It was nearly one in the morning and the building was pretty much deserted. The guards and other workers were likely home with their families, and Siren was feeling confident they wouldn’t get caught. When they reached the upper basement, Michael pressed his hand to the keypad of DD’s door which immediately clicked open.

DD was sound asleep in bed, but the second she heard the door, she sat bolt upright with a terrified expression on her face. When she saw who it was however, she let out a breath of relief and offered the two men a smile.

“I thought you were the evil Santo Claws coming to eat me!” she exclaimed.

Siren flashed Michael an unimpressed look who simply snorted in amusement.

“Naw, he comes later,” Michael replied.

DD’s eyes widened.

“MJ!” Siren snapped, elbowing him hard, “Don’t tell her that! She’ll have nightmares!”

Michael elbowed him back twice as hard and then crossed the room to DD. Without a word he picked her up from under the arms and then spun around in a circle with her, immediately making her laugh. 

“There, problem solved,” Michael responded, setting a giggling DD back down on the bed.

Siren noted DD looked more alert, and approached her. “How are you feeling?” he asked her, placing a hand on her forehead.

“I’m feeling good today!” DD responded with a smile, “Nothing hurts!”

Siren knew that was the painkillers he’d been slipping her, and hoped she was starting to improve a bit. If she could last a few more weeks, he’d hopefully be able to get her to a hospital far away from V.I.L.E. DD stared at the bags Michael held and it was clear she was curious, but also a bit wary.

“Merry Christmas, Diana!” Michael announced.

“Oh!” DD exclaimed in surprise, “Is it now time for presents?”

Michael was glad at least **someone** was excited for Christmas and he grinned at her. “You bet,” he responded, setting the bags down, “These are for you!”

DD had never gotten a present before and she instantly reached for one of the bags. She pulled out the first gift which was wrapped terribly and she marvelled at the pretty red and green paper.

“What do I do?” she asked.

“You rip off the wrapping paper, stupid!” Michael scolded, “Go on, open it!”

DD thought it was a shame to ruin the pretty wrapping paper, but she did as she was told and ripped through it eagerly. She gasped at the plush dog inside, and she immediately hugged it to her chest. 

“I love it!” she exclaimed, “What is it?”

“This is a dog,” Michael responded, “You asked about them a while back.”

DD hugged the toy again. “I love her!”

“Open the rest!” Michael ordered, “There’s better stuff than that stupid thing!”

Siren set the drinks and cookies on the floor, and then took a seat beside DD as she tore through the wrapping of gift after gift. Michael had bought her dozens of different toys and Siren marvelled at the quantity of it. He had grown up poor as a child and Christmas was normally a very humble affair. He remembered how Christmas of ‘97 had been incredibly hard on the family and his grandmother hadn’t had enough for presents that year. Siren had been very young and hadn’t fully understood the situation, and he had cried and begged for a popular toy. The toy had only been $25, but his grandmother couldn’t afford it. She told him outright he wouldn’t be getting it and he’d thrown a massive fit which had gotten him sent to his room.

On Christmas morning he was the only one to get a gift, and when he’d opened it, it had been the toy he’d wanted. His brothers knew how much he wanted it and they had gotten him one. They claimed they had mowed grass to earn the money, but considering it was winter, Siren had known they were lying. Roosevelt had shoplifted it for him. Siren was only seven years old but he understood at that moment how much his brothers cared for him. He had treasured the toy and carried it with him at all times growing up.

Siren stared down at the tiny wrapped present in his hands and knew it was now DD’s turn to care for the toy. DD was laughing and smiling as she looked over her new toys and then her gaze fell on the tiny gift in Siren’s hands. Siren held it out and she eagerly accepted it and ripped the paper off.

“Her name is Greta,” Siren explained as DD stared down at the purple Tamagotchi, “You have to feed her and take care of her.”

DD ran her thumb over where the name ‘Greta’ was carved into the plastic and she looked down at the screen in wonder.

“Is that a **secondhand** toy?” Michael scoffed, “Are you seriously **that** cheap? I’ve never used anything secondhand in my life!”

“Promise me you’ll take good care of her,” Siren said, ignoring Michael, “If the screen goes dark, you just need to change the battery. I just put a new one in for you so it should last a couple years. Make sure not to lose her or get her wet.”

DD stared at the tiny cat on the screen and she hesitantly pressed a button. A piece of cake appeared on the screen and the cat happily ate the cake. DD gasped in delight and gave it a second piece.

“Don’t give her too many snacks or she’ll get fat,” Siren instructed, “Here, I’ll show you how to take care of her.”

Michael stared at them with a frown, not understanding why Siren cared so much about a cheap plastic toy. As Siren showed DD what to do, he was surprised to see Siren was smiling. Michael had never once seen Siren smile, and he simply stared. DD noticed as well and she reached up and patted Siren on the cheek affectionately. 

“I **knew** you would have a nice smile!” DD commented, grinning up at Siren, “You should smile more!”

“Not much to smile about here,” Siren replied, the smile melting away.

Michael stared at Siren and knew the other man’s life was complete garbage. He’d never really thought about it before, but Siren always seemed to be a miserable little shit. Seeing that brief smile reminded Michael that Siren was a real person and not just Vess’ lab assistant. Michael frowned, and knew he probably wasn’t helping matters by bullying Siren. Michael was bored, and torturing Siren was one of his favourite pastimes. It made things weird now that Michael acknowledged Siren was a person. 

“Did you get everything you wanted?” Siren teased, looking at the mountain of gifts.

“Almost…” DD replied, taking them both by surprise.

“What else could you possibly want?” Michael demanded, feeling offended.

DD bit her lower lip and averted her gaze.

“What is it?” Siren questioned, “What do you want?”

“...I want to meet my parents,” DD whispered, shooting a frightened look towards the door as if she was afraid Vess would overhear her.

Michael sucked in a sharp breath, and Siren glanced over at him.

“Don’t you fucking **dare** tell her!” Michael snarled, looking worried.

Siren stared at him for a moment and then turned his gaze back to DD. “Are you sure?” he questioned, thinking of Chase, “What if they’re loud, and yell at you a lot? What if they scare you?” 

DD shrugged. “You and Mikey are both loud and you both also yell a lot,” she pointed out, “That doesn’t mean you’re bad though, and it wouldn’t scare me.”

Siren furrowed his brow as he thought of Chase. The man was indeed loud, but had he misjudged him? Could he really assume Chase would be a bad father just because he yelled a lot? 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Siren promised, ignoring the alarmed look Michael shot him, “Now how about if you try some of the cookies we brought?”

DD eagerly nodded.

They stayed with DD for over two hours singing christmas carols and eating the snacks, but they knew they couldn’t chance Vess returning to the apartment before them. DD was worn out at this point anyway and so she crawled in bed cradling her stuffed dog to her chest as they waved goodbye. The moment they were out in the hallway, Michael turned a furious glare on Siren.

“Why did you tell you she would get to see her parents?!” he demanded, “You know very well that’s never going to happen!”

Siren of course couldn’t tell Michael that he was leaving V.I.L.E forever with DD, and so he simply shrugged. “I just wanted her to be happy for what little time she has left,” he responded, “There’s no harm in it.”

Michael clenched his hands into fists. “She seemed better tonight,” he observed.

Siren nodded. “I’ve been slipping her painkillers, but she’s still incredibly sick,” he explained, “At least she won’t be in any pain as she deteriorates…”

Michael glanced back towards DD’s door, and then looked away. It was his fault she was dying and there was nothing he could do about it. He hated that he felt guilty but he would never admit it. Vess had scolded him many times about showing too much emotion, but Michael had always liked kids and so he found it difficult. Although Michael liked DD, he would never go against Vess to help her. He would kill a **hundred** children if it meant making Vess happy.

Michael didn’t say another word and simply followed after Siren silently as they made their way back to Vess’ apartment. When they entered, Vess was still nowhere in sight and so Siren bid Michael goodnight and went to bed. Michael cleaned up the broken glass in the kitchen, waited around for a while but eventually fell asleep on the couch watching tv.

Michael slept for a few hours and he woke up stiff and uncomfortable from the position he’d been sleeping in. Rubbing at his neck with a frown, he wondered why Vess hadn’t woken him when he’d come home.Yawning, he glanced at the clock and saw it was nearly seven. It was Christmas morning! Grinning excitedly, Michael got to his feet and hurried for the bedroom to wake Vess. Opening the door, he peered in but to his surprise the bed was empty and unslept in. Was Vess really that mad that he worked the **entire** night?

Michael didn’t want Vess to be angry the entire day and so he knew he would have to apologize and make things right. Straightening his hair and brushing his teeth, he kept an ear out but there were no sounds in the apartment. Putting on the earrings Vess had bought him, Michael stared at his appearance, hoping Vess had calmed down.

Michael left the apartment and made his way towards the lab, knowing he’d have to be extra charming to win Vess over. He didn’t see anyone at all in the halls, the entire complex dead silent. He reached the lab and reached for the door. He was disconcerted to discover it was locked and wondered if Vess was even angrier than he’d thought. Michael knocked on the door and waited but there was no response.

“Numa?”

Silence.

Frowning in worry, Michael pressed his hand to the keypad and unlocked the door. The door opened to darkness and it was clear Vess wasn’t there. Michael glanced all around the lab, but it was clean and quiet, and it was obvious Vess hadn’t been there for hours. 

Backing out of the lab, Michael locked the door and then wondered where he’d gone. Perhaps he and Vess had simply missed one another and Vess was back in the apartment. Certain that’s where he was, Michael jogged back, unable to stop the feeling of dread that settled in his stomach.

He burst through the door of the apartment and immediately glanced around.

“Numa?” he called out.

There was no answer. Michael checked the bedroom, and then the bathroom, but there was no sign of Vess. Michael was now officially worried and so he entered Siren’s room. Siren was curled up in bed sound asleep and so Michael approached him and dumped the nearby glass of water on his head.

Siren woke up sputtering and choking, and he immediately turned a withering glare up at Michael.

“Get up!” Michael ordered, yanking Siren out of bed, “Numa’s missing!”

“What?” Siren demanded, pulling his arm away.

“Numa’s missing!” Michael repeated, “I can’t find him anywhere! He never came home and he’s not in his lab!”

Siren rubbed at his eyes tiredly. “Did you check coffee-girl’s apartment?”

Michael socked him hard in the gut and Siren fell to his knees clutching his stomach in pain.

“Ow, fuck!” Siren complained.

“Stop trying to mess with me!” Michael snarled, “I know Numa isn’t cheating on me!”

Michael was stressed, and worried and he instantly took this out on Siren. He slapped Siren as hard as he could who immediately covered his face to protect himself. 

“I’m sick of you always trying to mess with me!” Michael growled, “You think you’re better than me!”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” Siren cried out, “I’ll stop teasing you!”

Michael furiously raised his fist to hit him again, but he suddenly heard the front door close. Michael let out a gasp, and then sped out of the bedroom. Bursting into the living room, he saw Vess was standing there in the process of removing his jacket. Vess gave him a questioning look and then hung his coat up on the nearby hook.

“Michael? What are you doing up so early?” he questioned, “You don’t normally get up until noon.”

“Where were you?!” Michael cried out, “You were gone all night!”

Vess let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair to straighten it. “I had a lot of thinking to do,” he admitted.

Michael averted his gaze. “You’re breaking up with me, aren’t you…”

Vess blinked. “What?”

“I was stupid and I’m sorry!” Michael insisted, taking a step towards him, “I love the present you got for me, and I’m sorry for being ungrateful!”

Siren stood in the doorway and gave Vess a questioning look, who pretended not to notice him. Vess’ gaze settled on the earrings Michael was wearing, and he let out a deep sigh.

“I’ve realized that you and I want very different things in life, Michael,” Vess began, “We’re different in almost every way, and people are always questioning our decision to be together. We come from different walks of life and I should have realized sooner that something like this would come up eventually.”

Michael felt his heart in his throat. “Numa, no, don’t do this! I’ll never make this mistake again, I promise! I was just stupid!”

“Hush,” Vess scolded, “Just listen to me for a moment.”

Michael swallowed the lump in his throat and mutely nodded.

“I’ve never understood other people, and I find most of them irritating,” Vess stated, “Even as a child I never had any friends and even my own sister was afraid of me. I grew up feeling like I was an outsider looking in at the rest of humanity and I could never connect with them. I’m very used to being by myself and I’ve never needed the company of others before. I like being alone.”

“...what about me?” Michael whispered.

Vess’ eerie silver eyes stared down at him in an unsettling way.

“I was always top in my class during school and I worked incredibly hard to be where I am today. You on the other hand coasted through life on your family’s money, and you have nothing to show for it. You are the type of person I despise, the type I think should have never been allowed to exist in society. **Somehow** , we found each other, and **somehow** against all odds you caught my attention…”

Michael shifted a bit under Vess intense gaze, but he remained quiet, waiting for the inevitable. 

“I saw something in you that I hadn’t expected…” Vess continued, “You were of course a repugnant and uneducated street thug with no class and no talents, but I saw something I wasn’t expecting. You displayed complete and unwavering devotion. There were no masks when it came to you, and your emotions were always genuine and they were always on full display. I never had to worry about ulterior motives when it came to you. You gave yourself to me, and I fully took advantage of it.”

Michael couldn’t tell what Vess was feeling at that moment, the other man’s face completely blank. Vess stared at him for a moment and then let out a sigh.

“I’m sorry, Michael,” he told him, pulling him into a hug, “I should have realized how different our goals would be in life. The only thing I cared about in life was finishing my experiments, and gaining the recognition of every criminal organization. I’ve never had any intentions of getting married or having any sort of domestic life. Such things never interested me.”

Michael tensed in his arms. Here it comes…

“But...sometimes being in a relationship means compromise…” Vess said releasing him.

To Michael’s complete shock, Vess got down on one knee and held out a ring.

“I love you, Michael, and I want to make you happy, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

Michael gasped and stared at the ring in complete awe. The ring was a masculine ring with two snakes entwined with a single diamond between their jaws.

“Michael?” Vess questioned, suddenly looking a bit uncertain.

“Yes!” Michael cried out, throwing himself at Vess hard enough to knock the other man flat to the floor.

Vess laughed and hugged him back. “I’m sorry I worried you, but there aren’t many places to get a ring on Christmas Eve. I had to fly to Moscow and back on our fastest jet to find the perfect ring.”

“It **is** perfect!” Michael confirmed, smiling down at Vess who was still pinned beneath him.

Vess slipped the ring on Michael's finger, who grinned down at it for a moment before leaning down to capture his fiancé’s lips with his own.

“I love you, Numa.”

“I love you too, Michael,” Vess responded, deepening the kiss, “Merry Christmas.”

“Well, shit,” Siren commented from the doorway.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The storm finally stopped during the night, and Christmas morning was bright and clear. Theodore woke first and he quietly got up, trying not to wake his brother. He got dressed, and decided to go downstairs to start the coffee. When he opened his bedroom door, he saw Dash silently leaving Neal’s room to head for his own. Theodore glanced down at his watch and saw it was only a little after five. What were Neal and Dash doing up this early? Dash gave him a wide-eyed stare and so Theodore simply waved at him and didn’t comment on it.

Dash waved back, and then disappeared into his own bedroom without a word. Theodore lumbered his way downstairs, but to his surprise, he could already smell coffee brewing. Heading in the direction of the kitchen, he saw Chase and Shadowsan seated at the table chatting. They paused their conversation when he entered and so Theodore offered them an awkward smile.

“Er, hi,” he greeted.

“_ Bonjour _,” Chase replied, giving him a somewhat suspicious look.

“Good morning, Theodore,” Shadowsan said, taking a sip of his tea.

Theodore began poking around in the cupboards for something to eat, and there wasn’t much that could be considered breakfast food. He counted the remaining muffins from the day before and saw there weren’t enough for everyone. Frowning in concern, he grabbed a can of pears and a mug of coffee. They’d gone hungry quite a few times over the past few months, and Theodore wanted to make sure his teammates were taken care of first. He and Roosevelt were chubby enough to miss a few meals, but someone slender like Paper Star or Dash could not.

Theodore carried his fruit and coffee into the living room, and approached the fireplace to put on a fire. The cabin was bitter cold, and he sat close to the fire and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. He stared there for the next hour simply relaxing and enjoying his quiet morning. Soon everyone else began trickling downstairs, and grabbing their own breakfast.

[[It’s Christmas!]] Moose Boy bellowed excitedly in Swedish from upstairs, [[Come on, Sven, come on!]]

There was the sound of thundering footsteps on the stairs, and a moment later Moose Boy burst into the room, wearing a Christmas sweater covered with moose. As Moose Boy wished everyone a Merry Christmas, he began preparing breakfast for two. There were soft footsteps on the stairs a minute or so later, and then Otterman entered the room, wearing a sweater covered in Christmas otters. He looked a bit sleepy but he still offered his cousins a smile as he took a seat beside Moose Boy. Neal and Dash entered the room last, and both were looking relaxed and happy.

“Merry Christmas!” Neal announced loudly, the second he entered the room.

“Shh,” Dash scolded, “It’s too early for you to be that loud.”

“Nope, it’s CHRISTMAS and so I can be as loud as I want!” Neal countered.

“He’s right,” Roosevelt agreed, “That’s the rule.”

“What rule?” Dash demanded, “There’s no such rule!”

“MERRY CHRISTMAS, DASH!” Neal bellowed.

Dash sighed. “Neal…”

“MERRY CHRISTMAS, DASH!” 

Dash rolled his eyes. “Merry Christmas, Neal.”

Neal seemed satisfied, and then immediately headed over to Zack and Ivy to chat for a while. Neal began teasing Mime Bomb who was sitting beside him, but he didn’t get much of a reaction. Mime Bomb was busy playing with the little black and white kitten, and he ignored everything Neal said to him. He was using a shoelace to play with the kitten and he smiled as it batted and rolled around as it tried to grab the lace.

Dash frowned in his direction, but he didn’t comment on the kitten theft, instead patting Steve who had hopped up on his lap. Steve now seemed perfectly fine, and Dash was truly grateful the mime had spotted her. He couldn’t imagine how horrible he would have reacted if anything had happened to Steve, and he was debating on what he should say to Mime Bomb.

He glanced over at Otterman who was cuddling Chanel as usual, and he frowned at his kittens. Decision made, he gently pushed Steve off his lap and then approached Mime Bomb. Without a word, he plucked the kitten away from him and then crossed the room to take the orange one from Otterman.

“Oh, come on, Dash,” Otterman complained, “I was being careful with her!”

Dash didn’t say a word and simply approached the twins to take the calico kitten away. He then left the room and headed upstairs with them. Most of team Crackle rolled their eyes at his antics, this being normal Dash behaviour.

When everyone had finished their breakfast and morning coffee, Crackle realized Dash hadn’t returned. Not about to let him isolate himself like he had the day before, he stepped into the hall and glanced up the staircase.

“DASH!” he bellowed up the stairs, “We’re going to be opening gifts.”

“Just a second!” Dash called back.

There was only a moment of awkwardness, but the two teams gathered around the ‘tree’ as they placed their gifts underneath. Dash entered the room, and everyone saw he was still holding the three kittens.

“Who’s going first?” Crackle demanded, glancing at his teammates.

“Me,” Dash announced, pushing his way through the crowd of people.

To Otterman’s surprise Chanel was placed into his hands. A pretty green and red ribbon had been tied to Chanel’s collar, and Otterman stared up at Dash in shock.

“Merry Christmas, Sven,” Dash told him, “She’s yours now, and so you’d better take good care of her!”

Sven clutched the kitten to his chest, and didn’t know what to say.

“Thank you, Dash!” he said, “I really love her a lot!”

To everyone’s surprise, Dash then turned to Mime Bomb and shoved Gucci into his hands who had a similar ribbon around her neck.

“Thank you for saving Steve,” he told him, “I owe you a lot and I hope this kitten makes you happy. Please take good care of her.”

Mime Bomb stared down at the kitten in complete surprise. He’d never had a pet before and it was something that had never even occurred to him. He exchanged a look with the rest of his team who looked just as flustered as he did. He turned his gaze back to the kitten who was squirming in his hold and he gently ran a finger over its head. The kitten began purring loudly and he smiled down at it.

Dash had one last kitten and he held it out towards Crackle.

“Merry Christmas, Graham,” he said, “Maybe now you’ll finally have an animal that doesn’t hate you.”

Crackle took the little calico and it immediately sunk its teeth into his thumb. 

“Ow, shit!” he complained, trying his best to hold onto the squirming ball of claws.

Despite getting bitten and scratched several times, Crackle gave an amused smirk down at the cat, liking its feisty nature.

“Thank you, Dash!” Crackle said, wincing as he was bitten again, “I’ll make sure he’s happy.”

“I should hope so,” Dash commented, sticking his nose in the air, “My kittens are far superior to all those low-class kittens around and they only deserve the best.”

“Steve was literally a garbage cat,” Neal pointed out, “Graham found her in an alley. She’s not pedigreed.” 

Dash narrowed his eyes. “You take that back, you greaseball!” 

Neal rolled his eyes, but he did go quiet, not wanting to start drama on Christmas.

Dash glanced at the three kittens and felt a sense of loss, but he knew this was for the best. The cats deserved to be spoiled by a person of their own, and he felt confident they’d be well taken care of. Team Red gathered around Mime Bomb’s kitten cooing at it, and only Shadowsan looked slightly disapproving.

“Awww, he’s so cute!” El Topo commented, gently scratching the kitten on the chin.

“She,” Dash immediately corrected.

“She,” El Topo repeated, “What are you going to name her, _ mi amigo _?”

Mime Bomb frowned thoughtfully and took in the sight of the black and white cat. He then signed and everyone looked to Zack.

“I don’t know that word,” Zack replied, “Are you signing ‘clown’?”

Mime Bomb shook his head and signed something else.

“No, I’m still not getting it,” Zack replied, “Can you spell it?”

Mime Bomb nodded and began signing one letter at a time.

“P. I. E. R. R. O. T.” Zack translated, “Pie rot? Umm... great name, buddy…”

Mime Bomb gave him an unimpressed look.

“Pee-air-oh,” Carmen corrected slowly, “Pierrot is a black and white clown from French Pantomime. Sort of a type of mime.”

“Oh!” Zack exclaimed, “A mime and his mime cat!”

Mime Bomb grinned at Carmen and made a motion like he was tipping his hat.

“What are you going to name your kitten, Sven?” Moose Boy asked, wrapping an arm around his fiancé.

Otterman hugged the kitten close and gave her a considering look. “Findus,” he announced.

Henrik gave him a confused look. “The Swedish pizza brand?”

Otterman rolled his eyes. “No, named after Findus the Cat from the storybooks. She looks the part, and I think it suits her.”

“Ugh,” Dash complained, “What a hideous name.”

“I think it’s cute,” Carmen argued.

Dash let out a sniff of disdain. “You **would**.”

“Well, maybe I’ll think about it for a while longer…” Otterman stated to appease Dash.

“How about you, Graham?” Neal asked, “What are you gonna name your little ball of fluff?”

Crackle winced as he was bitten again, and then shrugged. “I like his name and I’m going to keep it. Hermes is perfect for him.”

Dash gave another glance to the kittens and then stroked Steve’s head. He hoped Steve wouldn’t miss her kittens too much, but at least two of them would still be in the same house.

“Alright, who’s next?” Neal demanded.

“Me,” Otterman said shyly.

Everyone gave him their attention and he slowly pulled out his box of fancy chocolates. “My aunt Alexandria gave these to me and they’re chocolates from all over the world. I was saving them for something special and I think I want to share them with my family.”

Otterman was incredibly possessive of his candy and Team Crackle were shocked when he held out the box. Neal hesitantly took it, and glanced down inside the box, seeing there were about a hundred pieces left.

“There’s enough left for everyone to choose five pieces,” Otterman informed them.

“Thank you, Sven,” Neal said, choosing a chocolate and then passing on the box.

He took a bite of it and looked inside, discovering it to be coconut.

“That’s really generous of you,” Crackle said gently, “Are you sure? These are your special ones!”

Otterman smiled at him. “I’m sure.”

“Who’s going next?” Ivy demanded.

“Me!” Zack announced eagerly.

Christmas Eve seemed to have broken down the walls of mistrust between the two teams, and as everyone began tearing into gifts, the room was filled with laughter and excited chatter. everyone watched each other open their gifts under the ‘tree’. Both teams watched each other to see what they were getting, and everyone passed around the chocolates as they did so. Instead of sitting as two separate groups, they sat as one and shared the excitement, each showing off what they got as they opened their gifts. 

Tigress and Dash quickly sat together to compare makeup and clothes, and although they were sniping at each other, it was done in good nature, and they were having fun. Every gift Team Crackle had given each other were all shoplifted, but that was something they didn’t share with Team Red.

Theodore was quickly making friends with El Topo much to Le Chèvre’s annoyance, and the two were talking about tunneling, the topic fascinating to Theodore. El Topo was explaining how he stopped his tunnels from collapsing and Theodore was listening intently.

“I’ve never liked small spaces,” Theodore admitted, “My little brother was the opposite though. When he was a kid he liked squeezing inside the little crawlspace in our bedroom. Roose and I were too big to fit inside it and he called the space his ‘office’ and he used to hide all sorts of things in there. I was always worried he was going to get stuck and we wouldn’t be able to get him out.”

“I didn’t know you had another brother!” El Topo exclaimed, “Is he with V.I.L.E as well?”

“No,” Teddy responded, expression instantly turning pained.

“Oh, you had to leave him behind when you joined V.I.L.E? He’s still a civilian?”

“...no.”

El Topo’s brow furrowed. “Then where-”

This was when Le Chèvre elbowed him. El Topo gave him a confused look, but then his eyes widened as he understood.

“Oh! I’m sorry!” he quickly said.

“It’s alright,” Theodore assured him, “Now how about it you tell me about how you see underground?”

El Topo nodded and began his explanation.

Roosevelt was hovering by Paper Star’s side the entire morning, and she seemed a little confused by this, but not angry. Every time she took a seat, he was quick to sit beside her and drape an arm over her shoulders, but she didn’t protest. She seemed to be puzzling about this change in Roosevelt, and she made no comment about it. After all gifts had been opened, she decided to work off some nervous energy and announced she was going outside.

“I’ll come too!” Roosevelt crowed out, already heading for his coat.

“It’s freezing out, love,” Neal pointed out.

Paper Star gave a shrug. “I’ll be alright,” she assured him, “I’m not going far.”

“Watch out for bears,” Neal said worriedly.

Paper Star offered him an amused smile at his obvious worry. “A bear is no match for me,” she responded confidently, “I would kill it before it even got close.”

Neal nodded, but was still worried. His whole body ached from his ordeal the other night and he knew he wouldn’t be much help if their team had to fight anything. He lifted a hand to where he’d been clawed and shot an uncertain look towards the window. He’d had nightmares about that bear for two days, and although he tried to push aside his fear, he still felt nervous about it.

“I could fight a bear!” Roosevelt swore, flexing his impressive muscles at Paper Star, “A bear won’t get anywhere near you! I’ll protect you!”

Paper Star seemed amused and she simply nodded as she put on her coat.

“Stay within sight of the cabin,” Crackle instructed, “If it starts snowing again, I don’t want you two getting lost.”

Paper Star nodded again and then headed for the door with Roosevelt at her heels.

Crackle watched them from the window with a frown, but they didn’t go far and Paper Star began throwing a few stars at the side of the cabin for target practice.

Chase, Shadowsan and Julia mostly stayed together, not really having much to talk about with the younger crowd. All three preferred to quietly relax by the fire rather than join in the bustle of excitement with everyone else. They sat with mugs of tea, and watched Paper Star out the window as she flung throwing stars at various targets with Roosevelt following her everywhere she went.

Neal was easily the most excited one out of anyone and he bounced from group to group chatting with anyone and everyone. Zack and Ivy were the most tolerant of him, and so he hung around them the most. Mime Bomb seemed a little put out with Neal’s constant presence, and it was clear he kept complaining to Zack in sign about him. Neal simply watched these signed conversations with Zack in amused silence, but he never commented. 

It was obvious the teasing and flirting made Mime Bomb uncomfortable, and so Neal finally decided to just leave him alone. He made it a point to stop teasing the mime, and finally after a while Mime Bomb seemed to become a little less irritated with him.

Crackle was being carefully civil towards Carmen who was trying very hard to get him to have a normal conversation with her. When Carmen looked around at the two teams blending so seamlessly together, it caused a deep sense of regret within her, knowing that it wouldn’t last. She wanted them all to remain just like this, happy and all one family instead of at each other’s throats, but she knew it wouldn’t happen. 

Crackle’s team would never leave him, and Crackle was too angry with her to even consider blending their teams. Crackle was stubborn, but she could be patient, and hope that he would someday come to his senses. His anger ran deep, and she knew it would take him a long time before he was ready to forgive her. Although all talks of a merger were off the table, Crackle was making an effort to keep things civil.

He seemed to be very thoughtful that morning, and after a while, he took a seat across from Carmen.

“I have discussed the matter of Vess’ lab with my team,” he informed her.

“Yes?” Carmen prompted.

“We’ve decided to help you take down Vess’ lab.”

Carmen let out a deep breath of relief. Crackle was finally willing to look past his anger for a while. This was definitely a step in the right direction.

“Excellent, we can-”

“This is not a merger, and our teams are still enemies,” Crackle interrupted, knowing exactly what she was thinking.

“But-”

“We will have a temporary truce until the destruction of the lab, but we are not joining you. You will contact us with the details of the attack, and what you need us to do, but that is it.”

Carmen hesitated for a long moment and then nodded. “We should be ready to take down the lab within the next few weeks,” she replied, “We’ll keep you updated on everything we learn.”

Crackle nodded and he visibly relaxed. “Send me all relevant information so we can study it.”

“I’ll ask Siren to keep you informed,” Carmen assured him.

“Siren? That’s your man on the inside?”

“Yes, he’s been helping us plan the takedown.”

Crackle immediately shook his head. “No. I want no one to know of my team’s involvement. I can’t risk V.I.L.E finding out we’re involved in this. If your inside man double-crosses you or gets found out by V.I.L.E, I don’t want to be connected to him. Do **not** tell him about us.”

Carmen was going to argue this, but she could sense that Crackle was ready to fight about it and she didn’t want to chance him pulling out of the mission.

“If that’s what you want,” she agreed.

“It is,” Crackle confirmed, “For now, we have a truce.”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Siren watched as Michael flitted about the room, smiling and humming Christmas songs to himself. Both Vess and Michael had been in great moods all morning, and Siren had simply remained quiet so he could observe. This whole situation had completely taken him by surprise, and Vess had proven himself to be more unpredictable than he originally thought. 

Siren had been certain that after ten years of working with Vess, he knew him, but this was completely out of character. Siren never would have expected Vess to propose to Michael, and he’d honestly expected the other man to eventually tire of Michael. In fact, the only reason Vess had been allowed to date Michael in first place was because the head faculty found it so hilarious. They had allowed Vess to break the ‘no relationships’ rule and they were constantly ribbing Vess over his choice of partner. What would they say about this proposal?

Vess completely ignored Siren that day and both were happier that way. Michael spent the entire day glued to Vess’ side, and after supper that night, Vess informed Michael he needed to go to the lab for an hour. Although a bit disappointed over the interruption, Michael hadn’t argued. Instead he’d grabbed Vess’ laptop and plunked down on the couch to use it.

Siren edged over and glanced at the screen and saw Michael was looking at wedding planners. 

“Wait, you think you’re getting a wedding?”

Michael glanced up at him. “Yeah, why wouldn’t we have a wedding?”

“Look around you, MJ, how are you going to have a wedding in this frozen wasteland?”

Michael frowned. “Well, we could have it in town!”

“With what guests? Are you going to invite all the Kevins to awkwardly watch you two get married?”

Michael scoffed. “No, of course not! I’ll invite people I know to the wedding. I know my grandparents will want to come, and I’ll invite my mother and half-siblings. There’s lots of people I can invite!”

“And Numa?”

Michael narrowed his eyes. “What about Numa?”

“Who’s going to sit on his side? He has no friends, he has no family, and all his coworkers despise him.”

Michael hadn’t thought of that. It would look bizarre to have an empty side of the hall. Perhaps he could just put his guests on both sides? Michael knew that wasn’t traditional, but he didn’t want Vess to feel bad by seeing no one on his side. Michael’s eyes then widened.

“Wait a second, he has a sister!”

Siren squinted at him. “A sister?”

“Yeah, we met her in Kazakhstan a few months ago. I can invite her to the wedding!”

Siren had a feeling Vess hadn’t mentioned her for a reason, and he doubted he’d want her at the wedding. Just imagining Vess’ flustered and shocked expression when he saw her was enough to lighten his mood, and Siren chuckled.

“Do you have her contact information? You should definitely invite her.”

“No…” Michael responded with a frown, “I don’t even know her name.”

Siren gave him a considering look and then shrugged. “Want me to find her for you?”

Michael blinked. “You can do that?!”

“I doubt there are too many Numa Quaderis in the world,” Siren replied, “Assuming his sister has the same last name, I should be able to track her down using the flights from Kazakhstan.”

“Do it!” Michael ordered excitedly, “Fine her and I **might** invite you to the wedding.”

Siren rolled his eyes, and pulled Vess’ laptop over. Opening the lid, he signed in and then began his search. It was actually extremely easy to find her and he pulled up her professional profile to take a look.

“Karam Quederi, age 35, M.D Psychiatrist, Harvard University, Employee of a company called A.C.M.E. Oh god, she looks just like Numa!”

Michael peered over and saw the same woman from the airport. Now that he looked at her a little more closely, he could definitely see the resemblance. She looked like a female version of Vess.

“Creepy…”

“Are you calling Numa creepy?!” Michael snarled.

“Yes,” Siren responded, scrolling down through the profile, “Huh, she’s a psychiatrist. Maybe she should take a look at her brother, now **that** would be a challenge.”

“Shut up, nerd, there’s nothing wrong with Numa!”

Siren made a noise of disagreement and he was instantly hit hard in the shoulder, causing him to drop the laptop. It hit the coffee table hard and then crashed to the floor. Michael and Siren both froze, staring down at Vess’ laptop in horror.

“Oh shit…” Siren commented.

“You broke Numa’s laptop!” Michael accused, taking a step back from him.

“You’re the one who did it!” Siren snapped, “You hit it out of my hands!”

“No, I didn’t!” Michael snarled, “You dropped it!”

Siren reached down and picked up the laptop, instantly seeing the screen was cracked. Hitting the power button, he was surprised when it still powered on.

“Maybe he won’t notice?” Michael suggested.

Siren gave him a flat look.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Michael said, quickly beginning to panic, “Now he’s going to be in a bad mood! You’ve ruined Christmas, you fucking little shit!”

Siren knew very well who Vess would blame for this, and he grimaced at what Vess might do. Would he take his laptop away as punishment? Lock him in his bedroom until the holidays were over? If Vess took his laptop, he was completely screwed. He’d have no way to contact Team Red other than the ear-piece, and he wouldn’t be able to help them anymore.

“We have to fix this,” Siren announced, glancing towards the door.

“How?” Michael demanded, “It’s broken, when things break you just buy **new** things.”

Siren ignored him and ran a finger over the cracked screen. It seemed to be just the glass that was cracked and everything else seemed fine.

“I can swap the LCD for a new one and then just replace the bezel. He’d never know it was broken.”

Michael glanced towards the door. “How long would that take?”

“If I can find another laptop, I can take what I need off it and put it on Numa’s laptop.”

“Use yours,” Michael suggested.

“No, I need my laptop,” Siren responded, getting up from the couch, “We can take one of the laptops from the storeroom down the hall.”

Michael gave another glance towards the door. “Fine, but you better finish before Numa gets back.”

Siren rolled his eyes and tucked the laptop under his arm and headed for the door. To his annoyance, Michael followed along with him, and he flashed him a ‘look’.

“Numa told me not to take my eyes off you for an instant and so I’m not,” Michael said firmly, “You’re a sneaky little shit and no one trusts you.”

Siren sighed but didn’t say anything more. They left the apartment and Siren headed for the storeroom that was just down the hall. He remembered every room in the facility and he knew there were tons of discarded laptops and other electronics in this room. Unsurprisingly the door was locked and Michael let out a groan when they saw there was no keypad.

“Now what, genius?”

Without a word, Siren reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple hairpins.

“Where the hell did you get those?” Michael demanded in surprise.

Siren didn’t answer, and instead expertly picked the lock within seconds. When the door popped open, Michael gave him a look of disbelief.

“Where’d you learn to do that?”

“V.I.L.E academy,” Siren replied, “You would have learned it too if you weren’t too stupid to get in.”

As predicted Michael instantly lashed out at him, but that was the same time Siren opened the door and Michael ended up slamming his fist against the hard metal of the door. As Michael let out an angry stream of curses, Siren entered the storeroom and glanced around. Things were a little different from the image in his memories, but luckily there still seemed to be a lot of broken equipment. He began digging through piles of discarded laptops until he found one that was of the same make and model as Vess’. 

Glancing around the room, he saw a toolkit and approached it to take a look. Opening the small box, he peered in and saw plenty of tools used in electronic repairs. As he set to work on Vess’ laptop, Michael stood in the doorway rubbing his fist and scowling at him. Siren hummed quietly to himself as he worked, and luckily the repair was fairly easy. He finished within a few minutes and to his relief the laptop looked as good as new.

“Don’t you dare tell him about this!” Michael threatened.

Siren rolled his eyes again and didn’t answer. He handed Vess’ laptop to Michael and then tossed the other one aside.

“Numa will be back anytime now,” Michael informed him, “We have to get back before he does.”

Siren nodded and took a step towards the door. He felt a little odd in the head suddenly and he could feel the fog rushing in to cloud his thoughts. Siren glanced around and suddenly didn’t know where he was. He couldn’t remember anything at all, and his mind felt completely blank. Absolute terror filled him, and he began to panic. His gaze fell on Michael and he felt a twinge of recognition when he looked at him. Without a word, he surged forward and clung to Michael’s arm.

“What the fuck?!” Michael exclaimed, immediately trying to pull his arm away.

Siren clung on like a barnacle, and Michael shook his arm.

“What the hell are you doing, you weirdo?!”

Siren didn’t answer and simply tightened his grip. Michael slapped him away and Siren hit the floor hard, his head hitting the concrete floor. Siren slowly sat up and blood began to stream down his face.

“Serves you right, you creep!” Michael snarled, “I’m going to tell Numa you tried hitting on me!”

Siren said nothing and slowly got back to his feet. He glanced at Michael and his confused mind now saw him as a threat. Frightened, and having no idea where he was, Siren began walking away.

“Hey!” Michael called after him, “Where do you think you’re going?!”

Michael hadn’t meant to hit Siren that hard and the amount of blood was worrying. He watched the other man shamble away from him and then he quickly jogged after him. He grabbed Siren by the arm, and Siren’s reaction was instant as he screeched and pulled away. Michael’s brow furrowed as he realized something was seriously wrong. Siren continued walking away and Michael bit his lower lip and glanced back in the direction of the apartment. Letting out a curse, he hurried after him.

Siren walked and walked through the facility and Michael had no idea where he was headed. When they reached one of the exits, Michael once again reached out towards the other man to stop him. Siren screeched at him again and then opened the door, the freezing cold air instantly making Michael shiver. To Michael’s horror Siren stepped outside without a jacket and began to walk away through the snow. Siren would be dead within minutes and Michael hesitated as he watched him stumble his way through the snow. He could close the door and pretend he never saw anything and no one would be any the wiser. Siren would be gone forever, and Michael would never have to see him again.

Michael thought of Siren smiling at DD, and he felt his stomach twist guiltily. Letting out a deep sigh, he stepped outside and hurried to catch up with Siren. Shivering at the bitter cold, he reached for Siren who once again pulled away.

“Stop!” Michael ordered, “You’re going to freeze to death you little asshole!”

Siren once again pulled away.

Michael’s hands were already aching from the cold and he knew if they were out there any longer they were going to get frostbite. 

“Look, I’m sorry I hit you, alright? Come back inside before you freeze.”

Siren didn’t seem to hear him, and once again Michael reached for him. Siren pulled away, and Michael took a quick step forward and grabbed him by the arm. Siren let out a cry of pure fear and once again Michael felt guilty.

“I’m sorry,” Michael said again, “Let’s get you to Numa…I don’t know what to do.”

Siren pulled and struggled against him, but Michael was stronger and he successfully dragged the other man back inside the building. Siren yelled and fought against him for a moment before he finally relaxed when he realized Michael wasn’t hurting him. He once again clung to Michael’s arm and this time Michael allowed it, knowing something was seriously wrong.

He began walking them back to the apartment and Siren walked with him without protest, his grip simply tightening on his arm.

When Michael opened the apartment door, he was met with the sight of a very unimpressed Vess.

“Where were you two?” Vess demanded before he took in the sight before him. He then paused and frowned at the blood and vacant expression on Siren’s face.

“Something’s wrong with Siren,” Michael informed him, “He hit his head and is acting really weird.”

Vess quickly approached and slowly Siren turned his gaze to him. He vaguely recognized the other man, and he reached for him and released Michael to instead cling to Vess. 

“Siren?” Vess questioned.

Siren said nothing.

“Can you answer me, Siren?” Vess demanded.

When Siren said nothing, Vess attempted to pry Siren away from his arm. Siren immediately began screeching and so Vess stopped and instead used his other hand to tilt Siren’s chin up so he could see his eyes. There was no recognition in Siren’s eyes and they had a faraway glazed look to them. 

“What happened?” Vess demanded.

Michael wasn’t about to admit they broke Vess’ laptop and he set the laptop aside as he approached. 

“He tripped and hit his head,” Michael replied, “but he was acting like a weirdo before that.”

Vess had seen Siren turn violent when he was in a confused state, but never anything this docile. “How was he acting?” he demanded.

Michael shrugged. “I dunno, just weird. He grabbed a hold of me and wouldn’t let go. I thought he was trying to hit on me at first, but I think his brain broke.”

Vess once again tried to pry Siren away from his arm, and Siren tightened his hold even tighter and once again began screeching in terror. Vess let out a long and deep sigh, and reached down to brush Siren’s hair away from his forehead so he could see the wound. Despite the amount of blood, the wound was actually very small and wouldn’t have caused any sort of damage. This was clearly another one of Siren’s mental breaks.

“Did he try to hurt you?” Vess asked.

Michael shook his head. “No, but he almost froze to death. He walked outside without a coat!”

Vess frowned. Siren had access to the outer courtyard for smoking purposes but perhaps it would be best to revoke that privilege for the time being? He looked Siren up and down and was tempted to see if he could slap him out of it, but since Siren was calm and quiet, he didn’t really see the need. As a doctor he was used to calming down frightened patients, and he just had to be patient and Siren would eventually snap out of it.

“I’m going to clean and bandage his head,” Vess informed Michael, “Hopefully this won’t last long.”

Michael nodded, and he watched as Vess gently ushered Siren with him in the direction of the bathroom. Running a hand through his hair, Michael wasn’t quite sure what to do. His gaze fell on the laptop and he remembered the reason Siren had been using it in the first place. He’d found Vess’ sister, and he was going to invite her to the wedding. Michael grinned down at his engagement ring, and felt himself getting excited all over again.

He couldn’t wait to surprise Vess with the news he’d reached out to Karam to invite her. He was sure Vess would be pleased and he reached for the laptop, hoping the information was still on the screen. Taking a seat on the couch, he opened the lid and powered on the laptop. He waited impatiently as it started and then typed in Vess’ password. To Michael’s delight the browser saved the open tabs and he stared at the picture of Karam. Although she looked a lot like her brother, her expression was soft and her eyes were sparkling with life.

Michael stared at her contact information and then reached for Vess’ com. He dialled the number and then waited as the call went through.

It rang for several seconds before it was answered, and Karam looked slightly puzzled as she stared at the stranger on her screen.

“Hello?”

“Merry Christmas!” Michael announced, giving her his most charming smile.

Karam let out an amused laugh. “Why thank you! Merry Christmas to you too! Who am I speaking to?”

“Mj.”

“Mj?” Karam repeated, “Are you a new patient? I don’t believe we’ve met before.”

“Naw, we met in Kazakhstan. I was with your brother, Numa, remember?”

Karam’s smile disappeared in an instant and she stared at Michael with a slightly panicked expression. The call then ended as she hung up on him.

“...I got disconnected,” Michael muttered to himself.

Michael debated for a few moments and then began typing in the number to call her back. Before he’d finished, a call came through and he saw it was Karam. He answered it, and he was met with Karam giving him an apologetic look.

“Sorry, I panicked,” she said sheepishly, “It was rude of me to hang up on you.”

“Erm...it’s fine,” Michael said, not quite sure how to take the genuine apology.

“You’re friends with my brother?” Karam asked, “Where is he?! What is he up to?”

“Numa is my fiance,” Michael corrected, “I’m calling to invite you to our wedding.”

Karam sputtered in surprise, but to her credit, she didn’t hang up on him again.

“This is a joke,” she accused.

“Why would it be a joke?” Michael demanded, starting to feel a little offended.

“My brother is a sociopath and he has never cared about anyone in his entire life. He made it abundantly clear that he didn’t want any sort of relationship with me, and he’s never had a genuine emotion in his entire life.”

“That’s not true!” Michael roared at her, “Numa is the sweetest, bravest, and kindest man to ever live! He’s a genius, makes a lot of money, but he chose **me** to love! I’m a nothing, but when I’m with him, I feel like a something! I love **him** and he loves **me** more than anything! He proposed to me this morning and it was the nicest proposal ever!”

Michael held up his ring to the camera and Karam stared at it in surprise. Was this real? Was her brother really getting **married**?! For Vess’ entire childhood she had tried to reach him, tried to help him, but he had scared her. He’d killed animals and hurt other children and showed no signs of regret. When he was eight years old he had stared at her while holding a pocket knife, and he had wondered out loud what her insides would look like. She’d been terrified of him every since. He’d been the monster within her family, and even as an adult he still seemed exactly the same.

Vess had cut off the family when he was fourteen, and now she wondered if there was more to it than selfishness. She’d had no idea Vess was gay, and that was something that was frowned upon in their country. Had he realized his sexuality and fled? Had he been ashamed and frightened? Was this why he was being so distant with her? Was he still trying to keep his old life buried?

Karam raised a hand to her head and rubbed her eyes as she tried to come to terms with this. Her brother had been through unimaginable horrors during the war, and he’d been left traumatized and clearly broken. Perhaps she had misjudged his actions as a child? He’d been crying out for help that never came. He’d received no sort of therapy, he’d seen no specialists, and was left to suffer his trauma in silence. Perhaps the violence and lack of emotions stemmed from him trying to come to terms with things in his own way?

He’d had a long time to grow up, and it was possible he’d gotten the help he needed. Perhaps she had seriously misjudged him in Kazakhstan and she’d let him down once again? As a child she hadn’t understood the horrors he’d endured, but as a fully licensed psychiatrist, she now had no excuse. She must have missed the signs. She’d failed him. 

“Er...you okay?” Michael asked.

Karam looked up at the boy on her screen and she saw the nervous uncertainty in his eyes, and she felt hope for her brother. If he finally managed to connect with another person, she would support it and offer any help she could. She would assure her brother that she was fine with his sexuality, and she would apologize for misreading the situation in Kazakhstan. If Vess was a changed person, she could finally have her brother back. They’d be a family again.

Karam gave Michael a genuine smile. “I’d love to come to your wedding.”

Michael was instantly excited again. “Great! Numa will be so happy! I can’t wait to tell him the great news!”

“When are you planning it for?”

Michael hesitated and then shrugged. “As soon as possible,” he replied, “I’ll have to call you back with the details.”

“Is Numa there right now? May I speak with him?”

“He’s busy with a medical emergency right now,” Michael informed her, glancing towards the bathroom.

“Oh, well, I’d really like to speak with him once he has the time.”

“Sure, I’ll let him know once he’s done. It probably won’t be today though because he’s probably going to be a little grouchy.”

“No problem, Mj, it was really nice to meet you, and I can’t wait to get to know you!”

Michael felt a little odd about this but he nodded all the same. “I’ll call you back once I finish my planning.”

Karam nodded. “Thank you for inviting me, Mj, I really appreciate it. I hope you have a Merry Christmas.”

“You too...oh wait, if you’re Numa’s sister then you probably don’t celebrate Christmas…”

“That’s alright, I still appreciate the sentiment!” Karam assured him, “Goodbye, Mj.”

“Bye.”

Michael disconnected the call and felt incredibly proud of himself. Now Vess would have family at the wedding and he felt certain he was going to be incredibly surprised.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

“Sooooo, who’s going to make lunch?” Zack demanded, giving a not so subtle glance in Mime Bomb’s direction.

Mime Bomb rolled his eyes good naturedly and slowly got up off the couch. He actually enjoyed cooking a lot and he didn’t mind cooking the majority of meals for his team. He was improving a lot from all the practice and he’d been slowly making his way through an old cookbook he’d picked up in a secondhand bookstore. He mostly enjoyed baking, but there was a certain satisfaction to preparing a full meal for his family. Today would definitely be a challenge with feeding this many people with the limited ingredients in the cabin.

It was now close to noon, and Mime Bomb headed to the kitchen to see what he could figure out for Christmas dinner since the only food they had was either dried or canned. He carefully went through the cupboards and there wasn’t much to choose from. Looking over the canned vegetables critically, he wished he had a meat of some kind, but knew they’d have to make due with what they had. 

He found a few questionable looking potatoes in the cellar and when he began peeling them, they seemed fine and so he got to work, trying to come up with a recipe to feed all eighteen people. He used a piece of paper to come up with a recipe, and when he was sure it would be alright, he got to work.

After a while, Julia joined him in the kitchen and offered to help, she being the only other team member besides Zack that knew sign language. Together they came up with a few other ideas for dishes, and quickly got to work.

Paper Star stayed outside for quite a long time, and when she finally came back in, she was covered in blood and carrying several fat geese. Roosevelt looked absolutely frozen, but happy all the same, and everyone stared at them in surprise.

“Caught dinner,” Paper Star proudly announced, holding up the birds that were dripping blood all over the carpet.

Neal snorted in amusement. “You should give those to Mime Bomb to cook,” he suggested. “But I wanna see his face when you give them to him. Just a sec!”

Neal hurried over to her and then followed her as she entered the kitchen. Mime Bomb was busy with his back to them as he opened cans of vegetables, and he didn’t hear them as they approached. Paper Star tossed the birds onto the counter and Mime Bomb nearly jumped a mile at the sight of them. He stared with wide eyes as blood ran down the side of the counter, and then he turned to look at Paper Star in disbelief. The girl had splatters of blood all over her, and it was obvious what had happened.

“I shot down dinner,” she informed him, “You know how to cook, right?”

Mime Bomb gaped at the birds and then quickly shook his head.

“You’re welcome,” Paper Star told him, turning to leave, “I like the necks so make sure not to throw them away.”

Neal gave Mime Bomb a wide grin, who still looked completely horrified. Using the end of a knife, he pushed them into the sink and then turned desperate eyes to Julia. Julia saw the predicament he was in and approached with a thoughtful look on her face. 

“I saw some garlic that would go well with those,” she stated, “Do we have any salt and pepper?”

Mime Bomb frantically signed to her and then pointed to the geese, looking like he was on the verge of an anxiety attack.

Julia adjusted her glasses as she mentally translated what Mime Bomb was saying. “Yes, I know how to clean birds,” she replied, “You get started on the rest of the prep and I’ll take these outside to clean.”

Mime Bomb seemed infinitely relieved and gave her a nod. 

“You know how to clean birds, love?” Neal asked in surprise, “You really don’t seem the type!”

Julia nodded. “I grew up on a farm and so I’ve slaughtered and cleaned hundreds of birds. It’s no big deal.”

“A farmgirl?” Neal questioned, “How did a farmgirl from rural France end up working for A.C.M.E?”

“A lot of work and stubbornness,” she replied, “I’ll be back with these in just a few minutes.”

Julia seized the birds, took a sharp knife from the cupboard, and then left the room with them. Mime Bomb placed a hand over his racing heart, and let out a breath of relief that he wouldn’t have to deal with that. Neal let out a snicker and Mime Bomb shot him a glare. He angrily signed something at him and Neal simply blinked and said nothing. Mime Bomb let out a sigh and then pointed to the can opener and then to the unopened cans.

Neal gave a nod and then approached to help as Mime Bomb disinfected the counter where the birds had laid.

While dinner was being prepared, everyone else was relaxing with cookies and mugs of hot chocolate. Otterman and Carmen were playing a game of chess together while Moose Boy watched on looking confused but supportive. He kept cheering Otterman on as if he were watching a sport’s game, and although Otterman was embarrassed over it, he didn’t comment.

Zack, Ivy, Chase, Tigress, El Topo, and Le Chevre were playing a very long game of Risk that had taken most of the day. Chase was losing horribly and he was down to three little men with enemies on all sides.

“...This is a stupid game,” Chase grumbled to himself.

“Just attack someone,” Tigress snapped, “You’ve been thinking about it for like five minutes now.”

“Fine,” Chase responded, attacking her.

He lost horribly and was now out of the game. Chase let out a groan but didn’t actually seem that upset over it. He was obviously having fun, and he sat back to watch as Ivy attacked her brother’s territory.

The twins were invested in a story Shadowsan was telling them and they were sitting at his feet, listening with wide eyes. Shadowsan was telling them about the mission where he’d been sent to murder Dexter Wolfe, and they were listening in silence. Although the twins weren’t always the brightest bulbs, they were treating Shadowsan like they were back at the academy and were paying close attention to everything he said.

Shadowsan wasn’t used to people listening without interrupting a dozen times and so he revelled in the novelty of it.

Dash was quietly ignoring everyone and spending most of the day next to the fire playing his 3DS. He wasn’t purposely trying to be antisocial, and just didn’t feel like moving at that moment. Steve was curled up on his lap, and he calmly sipped a cup of tea that tasted a bit stale.

That evening they had a massive feast of goose, vegetables and then canned fruit and cookies for dessert. Tigress, who was a vegetarian, had a special dish made for her of rice, beans, vegetables and plenty of spices and she had no complaints. Both Mime Bomb and Julia were talented cooks, and they had done the best they could.

Everyone ate until they could barely move and then they relaxed for the evening to just talk with each other. The mistrust between the two teams seemed to have evaporated, and they were genuinely enjoying each other’s company. El Topo and Le Chèvre snuck away early and headed upstairs hand in hand and leaning into each other as they whispered between themselves.

Otterman and Moose Boy were cuddled up together in front of the fire, the smaller man sitting directly in Moose Boy’s lap. As the night wore on, it became clear the couples were wanting some alone time, and to everyone’s surprise Roosevelt slipped out of the room with Paper Star and headed upstairs. Teddy was left sitting alone looking a bit lost and so he crossed the room to sit with Team Red. 

The good spirits continued on late into the evening, not one person even once thinking about the fact they were supposed to be enemies. Even Dash and Tigress laughed along with the rest, and Team Crackle broke out their hidden stashes of liquor and everyone shared the bottles around as Theodore once again sang for them.

By the time everyone stumbled up to bed, most were a little tipsy, but still smiling. As everyone went to their bedrooms, Dash caught Neal by the arm, holding him back. Neal paused and gave him a questioning look.

“What’s up, fancy?”

“Here,” Dash said, shoving something into his hand.

Neal looked down and saw it was a very tiny wrapped present. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Dash was the only member of their team that hadn’t given him anything, but he hadn’t thought too much about it, considering the nature of their relationship.

“Merry Christmas, idiot,” Dash said teasingly, as he disappeared into his room.

Standing by himself in the dark hallway, Neal stared down at the present and then carried it back to his room, ripping the tape with his fingernails as he did so. Sitting down on his bed, he ripped off the paper and used the light from his ipod to see what was inside. Neal instantly grinned and held up a zebra keychain with the name Neal engraved on it, knowing this gift actually had some thought put into it. Dash had this specially made for him, and it made Neal oddly happy.

Deciding to thank Dash, Neal slipped out of his room, and quietly crossed the hall to Dash’s. He didn’t return that night.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Vess shone a penlight into Siren’s eyes who blinked and then looked up at him, expression just as confused as ever. It had been hours and Siren still hadn’t snapped out of it. Vess was in Siren’s room trying to coax him to go to bed but so far it wasn’t working. Siren refused to let go of him, and the second Vess tried to force it, he got upset.

Vess’ patience was truly being tested and he glared down at Siren. Perhaps he could get Michael to sit here instead? He thought about it, but he doubted Michael would have the self control and patience for this. He’d probably end up making things worse. 

Vess was seated on the bed with Siren curled up beside him and the other man didn’t seem to be getting sleepy. Vess had spoken to him softly and gently in an attempt to calm Siren down, but nothing had worked. He’d been hoping Siren would fall asleep so he could escape, but Siren’s grip hadn’t loosened even once. This wasn’t how Vess had been planning on spending his evening and was annoyed. Debating on sedating him, Vess weighed the pros and cons and then glanced towards the door.

“Michael?” he called out.

Michael padded his way down the hall and peered into the room. A brief look of jealousy crossed his face as he saw the way Siren was clinging to Vess, but he quickly masked it. 

“Yeah?” he questioned.

“Could you bring me my blue medical bag I left in the hall closet?”

“Sure, just one sec,” Michael replied, disappearing from sight.

Within seconds he was back holding the correct bag and he crossed the room to hand it to him. Vess only had one hand to work with, but he snapped open the clasp on the bag and pulled out a hard plastic case. Opening the case, it revealed several syringes and a small bottle of clear liquid.

“What’s that?” Michael asked in interest.

“Just a sedative,” Vess replied as he rolled Siren’s sleeve up, “I thought Siren would snap out of this, but it’s taking much longer than expected. I’m putting him to sleep so I can have my arm back.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Michael asked, hoping he wasn’t responsible for this.

“The repeated mind-wipes gave him mild brain damage and this causes him to dissociate sometimes,” Vess explained, “It’s never lasted this long however…”

Michael stared at Siren and wasn’t sure how he felt about this. It had never occurred to him that not only was Vess experimenting on DD, but he was on Siren as well. Did this mean Siren was going to die soon as well? Was this why he was so desperate to get out? Was he trying to save his own life? Michael could see the terror in Siren’s eyes, and he suddenly felt guilty. He didn’t hate Siren, he just found him annoying, and he didn’t want him to die.

Michael watched as Vess used an alcohol wipe to disinfect Siren’s shoulder, and then Vess began filling one of the syringes.

“That won’t hurt him further, will it?” Michael demanded.

Vess paused and gave him an odd look. “No, he should be fine. I’ve sedated him hundreds of times.”

Siren violently flinched as Vess injected the sedative into his shoulder and his breathing sped up as if he were about to have a panic attack. The sedative was fast acting however and his breathing returned to normal as he got sleepier and sleepier. Blinking blearily, his head fell onto Vess’ shoulder, but his grip remained tight. Vess watched as Siren’s eyes slowly closed and after a few seconds his grip began to loosen. Vess slowly and carefully pried Siren’s fingers away from his arm and to his relief, Siren remained asleep.

Letting out a breath of relief, Vess rolled Siren away from him and then tossed a blanket on him as he got up from the bed. Michael glanced at the unconscious Siren, and then turned his attention back to Vess.

“I have some really awesome news for you!” Michael announced.

“Shh,” Vess scolded, “I swear if you wake him back up, I’m going to make you sit here with him all night.”

Michael went quiet and Vess collected his medical bag, turned off the light and then quietly left the room. As soon as they were in the hall with the door closed, Michael gave him an excited grin.

“I have news about our wedding!”

Vess stopped short. “...our what?”

“Our wedding!” Mihael repeated.

“What wedding?” Vess demanded, “What are you talking about?”

Michael held up his hand with the ring. “OUR wedding,” he repeated again.

Vess’ eyes widened. When he’d proposed to Michael, he assumed they would be fiancés for a few years and then eventually just sign a few forms to finalize their marriage. He never once considered the possibility that Michael would want an actual wedding.

“You want a wedding?” Vess asked in disbelief.

“Well, duh,” Michael responded, “I’ve been making tons of plans all day and I want to go over it with you. I was thinking we could get married on Valentine’s Day.”

Vess went silent for a few moments. “...Michael,” he began, “How do you expect to have a wedding within V.I.L.E? Technically I’m not even supposed to be having any sort of relationships.”

“Well, I know a church wedding is off the table and it’s way too cold for an outdoor wedding, and so I was thinking about having our wedding at the firehall in town. I’ve been making lists of people we could invite, and-”

“You want to invite guests?!”

“Yeah, of course,” Michael answered, “My grandparents will want to come, and I **might** invite my mother. I have friends as well that I want to invite, and anyone working at the lab could come if they really wanted to...expect the bitch who makes the coffee.”

Vess seriously doubted the elderly Volkovs would ever want to come anywhere near him, especially since they knew what sort of things he got up to. He had a feeling they would protest the marriage the moment Michael mentioned it to them.

“I knew you wouldn’t have very many people to invite and so took care of it for you,” Michael announced, “You can have Siren on your side of the venue since that little shit is certainly no friend of mine, and I invited your sister Karam.”

Vess felt a surge of absolute horror. “WHAT?!” he sputtered angrily, “You did **what**?!”

Michael blinked at him innocently. “I invited Karam to our wedding. She seems really nice and was pretty excited over it. She wants to talk to you once you have time.”

Michael had contacted his sister... The sister he had tried very hard to forget about... Karam probably thought he wanted some sort of relationship with her now, and he instantly felt a massive migraine beginning to form. Raising a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, Vess took a very deep breath in an attempt to remain calm.

“How did you find my sister’s contact information?” he demanded.

“Siren helped me, why?”

Vess’ migraine got worse. Of **course** it was Siren, everything was **always** Siren. Everything Siren did always seemed to make his life harder than it had to be. Vess shot a glare towards the closed bedroom door and then let out an angry huff.

“It is far too late, and I’m far too tired to be dealing with this right now,” Vess informed him, “We will discuss this in the morning.”

Michael gave him a wink. “Just how tired are you?” he questioned, “Christmas isn’t over yet!”

Vess glanced down at his watch. “It’s 11:55pm,” he pointed out.

“There’s a lot I can do in five minutes, if you know what I mean?” Michael told him with another wink.

Vess let out a tired sigh.

“I was talking about sex,” Michael informed him.

“Yes, Michael, I was able to pick up on that,” Vess responded.

Michael gently took him by both hands and began pulling him towards their bedroom. “Merry Christmas, Numa,” he whispered.

Vess let out another deep sigh, deciding to just forget about everything for a while. “Merry Christmas, Michael.”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The next morning everyone was awoken **far** too early by the sound of someone shouting from downstairs. Despite the hangovers, both teams were wired to react and they burst out of their rooms ready to fight. Team Red exchanged a look with Team Crackle and then they headed down to see what the noise was about. They found Ukiuk standing in the main hall with three other men calling for them. When he saw the large group heading down the stairs towards him, he looked visibly relieved.

“Is everyone alright? We came as soon as we could. That storm was much worse than expected and it wasn’t safe for us to come any sooner.”

“No, everyone’s fine,” Carmen assured him, “There was an accident at the mine, and there was a collapse, but there were only minor injuries.”

“Says you,” Dash snapped, “I died.”

Ukiuk didn’t hear Dash, his attention entirely on Carmen.

“The mine?!” Ukiuk exclaimed in despair.

Carmen nodded.

The other men with Ukiuk looked completely distraught. “The mine finally collapsed, and we never got the chance to extract the star!” one of them lamented, “We’ll never be able to find it now.”

Crackle was the one to speak up. “We were inside it at the time, and when it began to collapse, we barely got out. The mine is completely gone.”

Ukiuk’s expression was completely crushed, but then it turned resigned. “It was never meant to be, I suppose...the star will never be found.”

Carmen gave him a proud smirk. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Ukiuk looked up at her in surprise. “You have it?”

“You have Gray’s team here to thank for that,” Carmen said, indicating Crackle.

“Graham,” Crackle automatically corrected.

Ukiuk glanced all around. “Where is it?” he asked eagerly, “Please show it to me!”

Carmen smiled widely and then came down the stairs, approaching the nearby china cabinet. Opening it, she removed the bubble-wrapped star and held it out. Ukiuk eagerly seized it and then carefully unwrapped it, staring down at the star in relief. Without a word, he approached Crackle and threw his arms around him in a tight hug.

“Thank you!” he cried out, “Thank you **so** much! You’ve done more for our people than you’ll **ever** know. Thank you!”

Crackle felt incredibly awkward and simply gave him a nod. “Er...yeah...no problem, mate.”

Ukiuk spoke excitedly to the men he was with for a few minutes and then turned back to them. “We plowed the road and so it’s now safe for you to head back with us to the village. The pilots of your planes spent Christmas with us and they’re both safe.”

“Thank god,” Tigress muttered, “Let’s get out of this hellhole.”

“Here, here,” Dash agreed.

“I think we’re all ready to go home,” Carmen commented, glancing around at the two teams, “It’s been an interesting Christmas.”

“It has,” Otterman agreed, looking over at his cousins, “But not all bad.”

“Now, this may sound like a strange question but...um...did any of you by any chance kill a polar bear a few kilometers from your cabin? We found an enormous dead polar bear with marks on it consistent with electrocution…”

Instantly all eyes went to Neal who was looking very smug. 

“I **told** you!” he crowed out triumphantly, “And you **all** called me a liar! Except for you, Paper Star, you’re a champ.. I will accept apologies now from everyone, thank you very much!”

“You’re an idiot,” Dash commented, heading upstairs. “I’m packing my stuff.”

There was a quick murmur of agreement as everyone hurried to pack as well. Neal frowned after them.

“Oh, you guys suck,” he muttered, following them up, “That was the coolest thing I’ve ever done and no one cares!”

Crackle rolled his eyes. “We’re only joking, Neal,” he teased, “I’m really proud of you and I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

Neal was a bit taken aback, but he was instantly grinning widely. “I’ll regale my tale to you while we pack!”

“Sounds good, Neal,” Theodore responded, “I want to hear again how you killed it!”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

With Neal’s permission, Ukiuk claimed the frozen bear on their way back, and everyone helped load it onto the bed of the snow-plow.

Neal very proudly got to show it off to everyone and he snapped a selfie in front of it for later proof. The bear was actually a lot bigger than he remembered, and just seeing it sent a shiver of fear up his spine, realizing how easily he could have been eaten. Rubbing a hand across his chest, he knew he’d have the physical reminder for the rest of his life.

No one was quite sure what was going on with Paper Star and Roosevelt, but they chose to drive by themselves in one of the other vehicles, leaving a very confused Theodore to ride with the rest of Team Crackle.

Three hours later, they were standing near their planes, Team Crackle on one side and Team Red on the other. Otterman seemed really uncertain about something and finally he tugged on Crackle’s sleeve to get his attention.

“I’d like to fly back to San Diego with Team Red,” he requested.

Crackle was taken aback and he hesitated. “What, why?”

“As soon as we have a cell signal, I want to reach out to my Aunt Alexandria and Uncle Dmitry to fill them in on everything that’s happened.”

“I don’t know how I feel about this,” Crackle admitted, staring at the other plane with narrowed eyes.

“I will go with him,” Moose Boy promised, “Nothing will happen to us.”

Crackle hesitated and then glanced over at Carmen. “Are you alright with this?” he demanded.

“Of course,” Carmen replied, “Sven is always welcome, and we’d never harm him.”

Crackle hesitated again. “You’re going to San Diego?” he confirmed.

Carmen nodded.

Crackle turned his attention back to Otterman. “Be careful,” he ordered.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” Otterman answered just as he slipped on a patch of ice.

Moose Boy caught him before he could fall and he shot a dopey grin at Crackle. “See? I got him!”

Crackle sighed, but trusted Carmen to keep them both safe.

He watched them board the plane with their bags and then he glanced back to Carmen.

“Truce is over once we take down that lab,” Crackle reminded her, climbing the stairs to V.I.L.E’s plane.

Carmen stared at him sadly and then let out a sigh. They’d made a lot of progress on gaining each other’s trust, but they still had a long way to go.

“Bye Team Hero,” Neal called over to Zack and Ivy, who waved back at him.

Neal then turned his gaze to Mime Bomb and then proceeded to sign to him in perfect sign language for a few minutes straight. 

Mime Bomb stared at him in absolute horror, and his ears turned redder and redder as Neal continued to sign. He realized that Neal had understood him each and every time he’d been signing about him to Zack over the last few days. Mime Bomb had said a lot of really mean things and now he was mortified. Neal didn’t make any comment about the nasty things Mime Bomb had said, but instead signed about how he hoped they’d get along better next time and he’d really enjoyed the mime’s cooking.

Mime Bomb was glad for his makeup because he knew he was probably scarlet from pure embarrassment. 

Ivy gave Zack a nudge. “What’s he saying?” she whispered.

Zack was staring at Neal with wide eyes, and he too turned red. “Erm...not much,” he told her. “This is between Neal and Mime Bomb…”

Neal then gave Mime Bomb a wide smile, gave him a wink and then got on the plane. Mime Bomb covered his face with both hands, and Zack patted his back in sympathy.

“Told you signing about him was rude, buddy.”

Shaking his head, Mime Bomb simply headed for the Team Red jet, glaring at the other plane as he did so. Twenty minutes later, the planes took off, effectively ending the team’s Christmas together.

Although they were technically still enemies, both teams now had a common goal. Take down Vess.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**The next chapter will not be posted as fast as the last few as I've been really slow writing lately. I'm going to aim to have it done in 2 weeks, but I can't guarantee it. Only 3 chapters left of Broken. I'm going to do my best to finish before Christmas! :D**

**Violetfic did the awesome pic of Karam (Karam is owned by Violetfic and used with her permission)**

**Coulrosaurus did the awesome pic of Crackle holding Hermes!**

.

**Credit for the names of Otterman and Moose Boy go to Animedemon01**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**

**Please don't forget to let me know what you think! **


	39. Family Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone!
> 
> Only 2 chapters left of Broken now! :) I'm aiming to post the next chapter on the 15th and the final chapter before Christmas. The final chapter is going to be extremely long and so I might end up not being able to post it before New Years!
> 
> An enormous thank you to the very awesome Violetfic and Coulrosaurus for offering plenty of good suggestions, and for being my betas! They both seriously offered SO many suggestions for this fic that they both deserve some recognition! You guys really helped improve this story a lot and you're awesome!
> 
> Please note that Dr. Vess and Michael Jr. both use the F-word extremely frequently in their everyday speech. You have been warned. Dr. Vess was created by Violetfic, and I am using him with her permission.
> 
> If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 39**

**Family Meetings**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

It wasn’t nearly as awkward as Otterman had feared during the flight back to civilization. Team Red were all extremely nice to him, and he mostly chatted with his cousins in an attempt to get to know them. Mime Bomb was a lot more wary than Carmen, and Otterman could see that he wasn’t going to completely trust him just yet. Otterman understood completely, as he himself was still a bit skeptical. He’d spent his whole life without a loving family and now he not only had an aunt and uncle who loved him, but he had two very nice cousins as well. 

Otterman held his com as they chatted, and he glanced down at it every now and then as they got closer to the mainland, and the the moment he got a signal bar, he glanced over at Carmen. 

“We have a signal,” he informed her, “Are you ready for me to call aunt Alexandria?”

Carmen reached over and took Mime Bomb’s hand and then nodded. “Yes, I want to speak with my mother. I’ve been waiting an incredibly long time for this.”

Otterman returned the nod and dialed Matryoshka’s number. It rang a few times and when the call was answered, it was Plague Doctor that appeared on screen, not Matryoshka.

“Hi uncle Dmitry,” Otterman greeted, offering him a smile.

Plague Doctor cocked his head slightly and then gave him a wave.

“Is Aunt Alexandria around? I really need to speak with her.”

Plague Doctor shook his head.

“Will she be back soon? This is really important.”

Plague Doctor pointed to his watch and then held up two fingers.

“She’ll be back at two o-clock?” Otterman guessed.

Plague Doctor shook his head and repeated the gesture.

“Two hours?” Otterman asked.

This time he received a nod.

“I found Yuri,” Otterman informed him, turning the com towards Carmen and Mime Bomb, “He’s alive and has been living in the United States. He has a Volkov necklace, and he confirmed all of the information you told me about him.”

Plague Doctor didn’t move and so Otterman continued. “I found my cousin Anna as well, and she’s very eager to meet her mother. There was more to the fire in Buenos Aires that Alexandria knew. I want to explain everything that happened, but I want to you both at the same time. Yuri and Anna really want to get to know you two.”

Mime Bomb stared at the creepy masked man on the screen and he gave him a nervous wave. Plague Doctor’s expression couldn’t be seen, but he suddenly held up a finger to signify just a moment and disconnected the call.

“...that’s quite the costume he has,” Carmen stated a bit hesitantly.

“I guess eccentricity runs in the family,” Otterman replied, glancing over at Mime Bomb.

Mime Bomb had no room to judge someone for their choice of costume, and so he gave a shrug.

“Is he going to call back?” Carmen asked worriedly.

Otterman nodded. “Yeah, he’s probably just switching over to his computer. He prefers to do things from there.”

Just a few minutes later, Otterman’s com began ringing, and when he answered it, he saw a very annoyed looking Matryoshka.

“Hello, Sven,” she greeted, “Care to explain to me why Dmitry just dragged me out of an important business meeting by the arm? I just lost a valuable contract! What’s going on?”

“Well, first I want to let you know that I found Yuri,” Otterman began.

“You found Yuri?!” she cried out in surprise, “Where is he? Is he alright?”

“He’s fine, but there was also someone else that I found…”

“Where is Yuri?” she demanded, no longer listening.

“I also found Anna.”

Matryoshka paused in confusion. “Anna who?”

“Anna Volkov, your daughter,” Otterman explained in a gentle voice, “Anna was rescued that night from the fire, and she grew up a prisoner of V.I.L.E. She’s been looking for you for the last couple years.”

Matryoshka froze and she just stared at him, her mouth opening and closing but no sound coming out. Carmen edged over so she was within sight and the two women looked at one another. They could see the resemblances between them, and Carmen gave her an awkward wave and a smile. Matryoshka was a bit older than Carmen was expecting, and she looked tired and had the beginnings of wrinkles on her face, but she had a strength in her eyes that Carmen recognized.

“Er...hello,” Carmen greeted, “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Matryoshka was silent for several long seconds, her eyes wide and her breathing slightly erratic. Plague Doctor elbowed her in the side and this seemed to snap her out of it.

“Anna?!” she cried out in shock.

Carmen smiled at her and nodded. “I go by Carmen now since I never knew my birth name. You can call me either; I don’t mind.”

“H-how?!” Matryoshka demanded, “Dexter was killed and the house burned to the ground!”

“V.I.L.E sent out a hit on Dexter, and the agent sent to do the job had compassion and saved me from the flames,” Carmen explained, turning the com towards Shadowsan for a moment.

Matryoshka recognized Shadowsan, and her eyes narrowed to slits. “You were the one to kill Dexter?” she demanded, her tone turning to ice.

Shadowsan gave a slow shake of the head. “I was sent to kill him, but someone else had already beaten me to it. Dexter Wolfe was shot and killed by law enforcement. When I found Carmen, I couldn't just leave her there to die. I had no idea who her mother was. I brought her with me and was intending on adopting her, but V.I.L.E kept her instead. The only thing I could do was prepare her, and make her strong until the day I could escape V.I.L.E with her.”

Matryoshka eyed him suspiciously for a moment but she didn’t sense any deceit. She could see the affection when he looked at Carmen, and there was an instant feeling of jealousy. Her daughter was alive, and she had missed out on her entire childhood. Her daughter was a stranger that had been raised without her. So many emotions overwhelmed her all at once that Matryoshka felt tears coming to her eyes. Not wanting to show such weakness in front of her child, she quickly steeled herself and took a deep breath.

“Where are you right now?” Matryoshka asked, turning to Carmen, “I’m coming to meet you immediately.”

“We’re on a mission right now, but we should be back to San Diego in twelve hours,” Otterman informed her.

“I’m booking a flight there right now,” Matryoshka said, glancing away for a moment, “Hopefully we’ll make it to you at the same time you land.”

Plague Doctor was sitting just behind his sister, the nose of his mask over her shoulder and he seemed to be staring straight at Carmen. Carmen wasn’t so sure what to think of him, and so she only focused on her mother. Mime Bomb looked back and forth between Matryoshka and Plague Doctor, and he hesitantly gave them both a wave.

Matryoshka blinked at him in surprise and then she smiled at him wide.

“Hello, Yuri,” she greeted, “It’s been a really long time since we’ve met. Do you remember me?”

Mime Bomb hesitated for a moment and then shook his head.

“Alexei was very proud of you and I met you several times when you were very young. He was always bragging about you to anyone who would listen. He loved you more than anything else, and he never meant to leave you alone in this world. He had plans to collect you from the school and bring you to The Void.”

Mime Bomb frowned, and gave her a sad nod. He missed his father a lot but knew he’d never see him again.

“You’re a mime,” Matryoshka observed, “Is the makeup you’re wearing part of your operative persona?”

Mime Bomb gave another nod.

Plague Doctor gave Mime Bomb a wave to catch his attention, and to everyone’s surprise, he signed something at him. Mime Bomb’s eyes widened in surprise, but then he smiled and signed back. Plague Doctor had asked him a question that only the true Yuri would know, and he had responded with the correct answer. Plague Doctor gave him a slow nod and then waved at him again, seemingly satisfied.

Mime Bomb wasn’t sure why Plague Doctor was remaining silent, and wondered if something had happened to him. Mime Bomb signed to him asking about it, and Plague Doctor simply shook his head. Matryoshka glanced back and forth between the two of them and wished she had learned sign language when she had the chance.

“I’m sure you won’t take this the wrong way, but Dmitry will be collecting blood samples from you both just to make sure you’re who you say you are,” Matryoshka informed them, “The helicopter is ready to take us to the airport, and so I have to go for now. I’ll meet you at the San Diego airport as soon as possible.”

Everyone nodded and a moment later, the call cut off. Carmen turned to Otterman with a questioning look on her face.

“Why is uncle Dmitry dressed as a Plague Doctor when not on a mission?”

“It’s his villain persona, but he also kinda uses it to mask his trauma,” Otterman responded with a shrug, “He’s been through a lot. He witnessed the murder of Yuri’s father, Alexei, and it really messed him up. He doesn’t speak anymore.”

“What happened to Mime Bomb’s father?” Carmen asked, glancing over at Mime Bomb to make sure it was alright.

Mime Bomb stiffened but he nodded his agreement, also wanting to know what happened.

“I don’t know all the details, but The Void were taking down a V.I.L.E operation and they were ambushed. Alexei died saving Dmitry’s life, and he was the only survivor. He spent a long time in the hospital but he’s never been the same since. He feels responsible for his brother’s death, and has a vendetta against V.I.L.E for what happened. I’ve never once heard him say a single word to anyone.”

Carmen frowned in concern. “Is he receiving any sort of help to deal with his trauma?”

Otterman shook his head. “After he left the hospital, he’s refused to interact with anyone except for his sister. When they met me, he extended that trust to me, but his interactions are still very limited. When he gets to know you, he’ll probably extend his trust to you as well.”

“It’s not really my place to say anything, not when I don’t even know them, but Uncle Dmitry clearly isn’t handling things in the best way,” Carmen commented.

Otterman scratched Findus under the chin and the kitten immediately began to purr loudly. “I’m not exactly well-adjusted myself,” Otterman pointed out, “I think everyone we know could benefit from some therapy.”

Carmen glanced around at her teammates and thought of all the troubles and pain they’d been through together over the past few years. 

“You’re probably right,” she acknowledged.

Mime Bomb glanced over at Zack who immediately tossed an arm over his shoulders.

“We’re family and we’ll get through this together,” he said, “Once all of this is over with, perhaps we really should look into group therapy?”

“Speak for yourself, I’m perfect,” Tigress commented, shooting him a smirk.

Zack rolled his eyes and winced as Pierrot climbed up his leg. Reaching down, he plucked the kitten up and gave it a disapproving frown.

“You’re a menace,” he commented, handing her over to Mime Bomb, “Hopefully she won’t shed all over my sports jerseys!”

Mime Bomb smiled and accepted the kitten who squirmed and batted at him playfully. It felt bizarre to be in charge of another living creature, and he’d never had anyone depend on him before. Even as a child he’d never had a pet before, and he’d never really thought about it. He liked animals, but his life had always been too chaotic to even consider it. When he looked at Pierrot, he saw what could be a normal life for him and he wanted that more than anything. He didn't want to steal, he didn’t want to go on missions, he just wanted a chance to be a regular person. If the day ever came that they managed to take V.I.L.E down, Mime Bomb was going to retire from this life.

Running his fingers through Pierrot’s soft fur, he glanced over at Otterman and then at Carmen. He still didn’t know Otterman that well, but the man seemed nice, and he wondered what sort of relationship they would have from now on. Could they really be friends despite being on opposite sides?

Mime Bomb hoped everything would work out.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Team Red and Team Crackle’s planes arrived just minutes after each other at the airport. There seemed to be a lot of vehicles on the tarmac as they looked out the windows, and as the planes came to a full stop, dozens of people began exiting the vehicles. Every person was wearing a navy coloured suit, sunglasses and they all withdrew their guns as they began to surround the planes.

“...it’s A.C.M.E…” Julia commented as they stared in horror.

Chase swore loudly in French, and scowled at the approaching agents. “How did they find us?!”

Carmen frowned in concern. “...I have no idea,” she replied, “But I’m going to call Gray before he gets the wrong idea.”

Pulling her com out of her pocket, she dialed Crackle’s number and waited as it rang. He picked up on the second ring and she was met with the sight of a scowl.

“What is this?” Crackle demanded, “Did you double-cross us?!”

“No, of course not!” Carmen responded, “Stay inside the plane and don’t open the door. I have no idea how A.C.M.E found us. I’m going to see if I can speak to them.”

“Let me see Sven and Henrik,” Crackle ordered.

Carmen handed the com to Otterman who gave Crackle a wave of greeting. “She’s telling the truth,” he told him, “Carmen had nothing to do with this.”

Crackle nodded slowly, but still didn’t look happy over it. “Are you in danger?”

“...I don’t think so,” Otterman responded, “At least not yet. The Void are on their way here, and this could get pretty ugly.”

“Stay on the plane and don’t try to fight A.C.M.E,” Crackle ordered, “If things escalate, we’re coming for you.”

Otterman nodded and the call disconnected. He handed the com back to Carmen who pocketed it and then once again looked out the window. To Carmen’s surprise, Chief was actually there in person and she looked absolutely furious.

“I’m going to see if she’s willing to have a civil conversation about this, but we might need to prepare to fight our way out of this.”

Everyone nodded and Carmen headed toward the door.

“We’re coming with you,” Chase said firmly.

“She might be more willing to listen with us present,” Julia agreed, “...yet again, we did betray A.C.M.E…”

“Carmen Sandiego, you will surrender  **immediately** !” came Chief’s voice from a megaphone, “We have you surrounded! Come out with your hands up!”

Carmen rolled her eyes and then unlatched the door and waited as the stairs came down. She glanced over at the other plane and could see all of Team Crackle watching through the windows. She headed down the stairs and when Chase and Julia followed behind her, Chief narrowed her eyes.

“Hello, Chief,” Carmen called over, “What brings you to sunny California?”

“Hands in the air, Carmen Sandiego!” Chief ordered.

“I was hoping we could speak for a few minutes before things escalate,” Carmen requested, “Just a conversation where no one gets hurt, and no one raises their voice.”

Chief glowered at her. “And why would I ever agree to that? You’ve proven time and time again that you can’t be trusted.”

“You need to listen to her!” Chase suddenly insisted, “You have no idea what we’ve been through!”

“Shut it, Devineaux, you are perhaps the last person on Earth I would ever listen to.”

“Ma’am, A.C.M.E doesn’t know the full situation. We were completely mistaken about Carmen Sandiego, and about Chase. Please just hear us out.”

“Five minutes is all I ask,” Carmen informed her, “If you take us in now, thousands of people are going to end up dead or injured.”

Chief tensed. “Is that a threat?!”

“No, it’s a fact,” Carmen replied, “This is what I’m trying to stop. Let me tell you everything, and we can work together to stop it. As long as A.C.M.E can be discreet about this, we can save a lot of lives.”

“Trusting you didn’t work out so well the last time, did it?” Chief pointed out angrily.

“I’m sorry, but you wouldn’t listen to us at the time, and you left us with no choice. We stopped the sale of nuclear arms codes, and I won’t apologize for it. My team have never harmed an A.C.M.E agent, and that’s the way I wish for it to remain.”

Chief went silent for several long moments as she considered the request. “Fine,” she reluctantly agreed, “but I will have two agents with me during our conversations. At the first sign of betrayal or deceit, we  **will ** take you down.”

Carmen nodded. “I understand.”

Chief glared at her for a second and then motioned for Carmen to follow her towards the front of the plane.

“Agent Zari, and Agent Malcolm, you’re with me!” Chief called back to the crowd of A.C.M.E agents.

The two requested agents hurried forward and joined Chief and the group of six stepped away for a bit of privacy. The moment they were out of earshot of everyone else, Chief crossed her arms and raised a brow in question.

“Right, well, this is going to be a really long story…” Carmen admitted, “It might take longer than five minutes to explain everything…”

“I have time,” Chief responded impatiently, “For your sake this had better be an  **incredibly** good story.”

Agent Zari was glowering at Chase and Julia, and it was obvious she was just itching to take them down. Chase crossed his arms against his chest and glared right back at her fearlessly, his gaze daring her to try anything. Julia was tense and she squared her shoulders, knowing there was a real possibility they’d have to fight their way out of here.

“Well, my story starts in Buenos Aires, Argentina,” Carmen began, “My father was a professional thief by the name of Dexter Wolfe. I believe you knew him?”

Chief stiffened and she stared at Carmen with wide, disbelieving eyes. “No,” she denied, shaking her head, “That’s impossible.”

“I was there the day you shot and killed my father. He had hidden me in the closet to keep me safe. The house was burning down, and another thief saved me from the flames.”

Chief was still shaking her head. “No, there was no record of Dexter Wolfe having a child.”

“Why was A.C.M.E after Dexter Wolfe?” Carmen demanded, “You knew nothing of V.I.L.E and I doubt he would have made any mistakes to get himself caught.”

“There had been quite a few high-profile thefts and a lot of pressure was put on us to bring in the culprit,” Chief replied, “You’re correct and Dexter Wolfe was a talented thief and he never left any usable evidence behind at any of the crime-scenes.”

“Then how did you find him?” Carmen demanded.

Chief averted her gaze. “He contacted us.”

Carmen’s eyes widened. “He what?! Why would he do that?”

“He made claims about being trapped in a criminal organization and wanted our help in disappearing. He agreed to provide us with evidence to hundreds of thefts and we were of course extremely skeptical. He gave us evidence to a drug trade in Scotland, and we were able to shut down the entire drug ring and put several dozen people in jail. He had gained our trust and in exchange for immunity, he would tell us everything he knew about the thefts.”

“What happened?” Carmen demanded, “Why did you kill him?”

Chief winced guiltily and she averted her gaze. “He betrayed us. After we helped him go into hiding, he hacked into our servers and deleted all information he had given us. There were no longer any records of him at all. The one thing he didn’t realize was that I had copies of this information on my personal hard drive.”

Carmen knew exactly why her father had betrayed them. He’d used them to go into hiding and to create a new identity. It was too dangerous to air all of V.I.L.E’s dirty laundry all at once, and so he’d lied about it.

“You knew where he was hiding.”

Chief nodded. “We used the information he gave us to take down as many thieves as fast as we could, but someone quickly began covering their tracks and the information was no longer useful.”

Carmen nodded. “V.I.L.E discovered my father betrayed them and tried to control the damage he had caused. They then sent an assassin to track him down and kill him. I’m assuming they used your records to find out where he was which was why he tried to delete them in the first place.”

Chief frowned. “We have found no evidence to suggest V.I.L.E even exists,” she argued, “This has all been the work of individual thieves.”

“Why do you insist on being so stubborn with the evidence presented to you?!” Julia suddenly cried out, “I spent months trying to tell you all of this and no one would believe me! Chase was the most adamant of you all that Carmen was a villain, but he accepted the truth when it was presented to him.”

“Devineaux allowed thieves to access confidential A.C.M.E servers, and he’s broken dozens of laws. He has done enough damage that he would be lucky to ever see daylight again after his trial.”

“I would give up my freedom without hesitation if it meant saving lives,” Chase responded firmly, “I will  **always** fight for what’s right.”

“You’re a criminal!” Chief roared at him, “You commited treason to your own country!”

Chase met her gaze directly. “It was necessary.”

Chief let out a deep sigh and rubbed at her forehead in agitation. “Why am I even talking to you? You’re the biggest moron who ever oozed their way into A.C.M.E!”

Chase flushed and he felt his temper flare, but he’d gotten a lot better at handling his emotions, and he simply took a deep breath and said nothing at all.

“Chase is the bravest person I’ve ever met!” Carmen said angrily, “Even when we were on opposite sides, he didn’t hesitate to throw himself in danger if he needed to. Chase is selfless and has perhaps the purest heart out of anyone I know. He always tries his best and he never gives up! You were lucky to have him, and you had no idea what you lost when you tossed him aside.”

Chase glanced over at Carmen and flushed, not used to people complimenting him like that. Chief let out another sigh and changed the subject.

“I was not aware Dexter Wolfe had a child. He made no mention of this, and we never saw you.”

“The assassin sent to kill my father had a moment of pity and he took me from the burning house. I was brought back to V.I.L.E and they raised me to be a thief. I spent sixteen years thinking V.I.L.E was where I wanted to remain until the day I saw their actions hurting people. I snuck on a mission and witnessed my fellow thieves committing murder and theft of a valuable artifact. I never realized the evil we were doing, and I left V.I.L.E. I’ve been trying to take them down ever since.”

“Why would I believe any of this without evidence?” Chief demanded, “Where’s your proof of this criminal empire ‘V.I.L.E’?”

“You will get your proof by helping us,” Carmen informed her, “There is a lab in Northern Russia that uses kidnapped children for their experiments. They’ve killed hundreds of children, and will likely kill hundreds more if they’re not stopped. This is what my team is concentrating on right now. All the proof you need is in that lab.”

Chief’s eyes were narrowed to slits as she stared at Carmen. “Why would I ever trust you?”

“We need all the help we can get taking down that lab. It’s heavily guarded and extremely secure. We have a man on the inside who has access to V.I.L.E servers and he can get you access to anything you want.”

“Who’s this man on the inside?” Chief demanded.

“His name is Delano Scordato and he goes by the codename Siren. He’s being held against his will in the lab, and he’s been helping us prepare for the takedown.”

“I require proof before I’ll listen to any of this. Put me in contact with Mr. Scordato.”

“I can call him right away,” Carmen assured her, “I’m sure he could send you something that will prove that we’re telling the truth.”

Chief didn’t look convinced but she nodded all the same. Carmen reached up a hand to her com and turned it on.

“Player, are you online?”

“Welcome back, Red!” Player immediately greeted, “I was beginning to get a bit worried! How was your Christmas?”

“Sorry, Player, we’ll have to chat later. I need to get in touch with Siren immediately.”

“Oh! Sure thing, Red! I’ll send him an emergency message right now!”

“Thanks, Player!”

Carmen turned her gaze back to Chief and gave her a nod. “He’ll call me any moment,” she assured her, “In the meantime, can I answer any questions for you?”

“You can start with why you hacked into A.C.M.E and Interpol servers.”

“We were taking down the Finnegan empire and there were moles in both organizations,” Carmen explained, “We wanted to out them all at once and we had no idea who to trust. Even now I know V.I.L.E has moles within A.C.M.E, and that’s why you need to keep the utmost discretion.”

“All of my agents are loyal to A.C.M.E!” Chief responded, instantly offended, “I screened them myself!”

“Agent Malcom graduated from V.I.L.E academy in the class of 2008, isn’t that right Malcolm...or should I say El Lobo?”

Agent Malcolm stiffened and he grimaced. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“I once poured a whole bottle of tabasco sauce in your bowl of tomato soup and you threw up all over the lunch table,” Carmen informed him, “Your classmates nicknamed you Spewbo for the rest of the school year.”

Agent Malcolm seemed to be sweating heavily and he shook his head in denial. “She’s lying! She’s trying to trick you!”

“I remember each and every student to have graduated from V.I.L.E academy,” Carmen replied, “I have an excellent memory.”

Chief turned to look at Agent Malcolm who backed up a step. “We’ll have to look into this,” she commented.

“This is ridiculous!” Agent Malcolm snapped, “I’ve worked for A.C.M.E for over ten years!”

“Then you have nothing to worry about,” Chief assured him, “Agent Zari, cuff him.”

Zari pulled out her cuffs and reached for her partner who suddenly lashed out at her, hitting her straight in the face. Chase lunged forward and knocked the other man hard to the ground and as Malcolm struggled and swore, his hands were cuffed behind his back.

“Get him out of here!” Chief snarled.

“If you leave him in custody he’ll disappear,” Carmen informed her, “I suggest you keep someone with him at all times.”

Chief had several suspects disappear on her over the years, and so she nodded in understanding. Once Malcolm was thrown into one of the cars, she turned her attention back to Carmen.

“Tell me more about this lab.”

“The lab is run by Dr. Vesalius who we all called Dr. Vess. His real name is Numa Quederi and for many years I thought he was an innocent in all this. I believed he was just a doctor who got involved with the wrong employers, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. He tried to kill me, and then we found out he was in charge of everything at that lab. He’s doing horrible experiments on people, and if he succeeds, thousands of people will get hurt.”

“Numa Quederi you say…” Chief repeated, an odd expression on her face.

“Red, Siren’s not answering. I put through an emergency ding, but it looks like he hasn’t logged on for nearly two days. I think something’s wrong.”

Carmen frowned in worry. Was Siren found out? Did Vess do something to him?

“What?” Chief demanded, seeing her expression.

“We can’t get in touch with our man on the inside,” Carmen responded, “He  **always** answers!”

Chief looked suspicious, but she let it go for now. “Tell me more about Numa Quederi.”

“I will tell you everything if you give your word not to tell anyone about this. We can’t risk V.I.L.E finding out about the attack.”

“I honestly don’t believe a word you say, and you’re all going to be arrested until I can figure this out. If such a lab really exists then A.C.M.E will take care of it, not a bunch of lawless vigilantes. You’ve all committed crimes and you  **will** face justice for it!”

Carmen was about to respond when suddenly there was the sound of approaching vehicles. She looked up and saw dozens of bright purple cars surround them on all sides. Dozens of men and women got out of the cars and immediately aimed their uzis at A.C.M.E. Chief froze, knowing they were fish in a barrel without guns of their own. No one fired, but the threat was clear as a figure began approaching. 

Carmen saw her mother passing through the crowd in full costume, a parasol over one of her shoulders casually. Her gaze was on Carmen, and when she approached, her gaze hardened as she turned to Chief.

“Back off  **now** or your entire team is going to get a few new holes blown in them!” Matryoshka snarled.

“Who are you?” Chief demanded.

“Keep asking questions and see what  **that** gets you!” Matryoshka responded, shoving her own gun under Chief’s chin.

Matryoshka then turned towards Carmen and her eyes looked her up and down worriedly. “Where’s Yuri and Sven?” she asked.

“They’re both still on the plane,” Carmen responded, “Please don’t hurt anyone.”

“Call for them,” Matryoshka ordered, “We’re getting your team and Sven’s team out of here.”

Carmen glanced at Chief and by the hate-filled stare, she knew negotiations were now definitely over. Pressing her com, she spoke to Player.

“Tell the rest of our team to exit the plane as well as Team Crackle, Player.”

“Team Crackle?!”

“I’ll explain later, I promise, but for now we need to get out of here.”

“Okay, Red,” Player responded, sounding incredibly concerned.

Carmen waited a moment, and then both planes began to lower their stairs. She was relieved to see Crackle was showing this amount of trust to her, and she watched as both teams left the planes. 

“In the cars!” Matryoshka called over to them, “We’re getting you out of here!”

Crackle gave a narrow-eyed look in their direction, but he did usher his team towards the waiting cars. Matryoshka spared a quick smile towards Carmen before shooing her towards the cars as well. Matryoshka followed behind them and walked backwards, keeping her gun aimed at Chief the entire time. The moment she got in the car, the several cars holding the teams pulled away, leaving the Void soldiers behind still aiming their guns. They waited ten minutes, and then lowered their weapons, got back in their cars and sped away.

Chief slammed a hand against the wheel of the plane in fury and turned to look at Agent Zari. “Find me Agent Karam Quederi  **immediately** !”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Vess looked up from cooking breakfast when there was a knock at his door. Glancing down at his watch he saw it was nearly seven. Knowing exactly who it was, he wiped his hands off on a cup towel and approached the door to open it. 

“Good morning doctor Vess,” Terry greeted him, “I hope your holidays went alright.”

Vess simply let out a dismissive grunt and stepped aside to allow Terry entry. Terry glanced around, and Vess could see obvious worry in the other man’s eyes.

“Siren’s still asleep,” Vess informed him, “I had to sedate him last night so you might have a hard time getting him up for work.”

“You sedated him?” Terry asked in concern, “What happened?”

“Siren had one of his ‘episodes’ last night and I couldn’t settle him down. I sedated him and put him to bed,” Vess explained, “He’s to pack up his belongings and move back to his own quarters immediately. We have a lot of work to catch up on and so make sure he gets to work on time.”

Terry nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“Siren’s in the bedroom to the left,” Vess told him, flipping over his omelet in the pan.

Terry nodded and headed for the bedroom, worried about what had set Siren off this time. He’d realized quite some time ago that Siren only turned violent when he felt seriously threatened, and Terry hoped Vess hadn’t hurt him. When he opened the bedroom door, he saw Siren was curled up in bed, and seemed to be still deeply asleep.

“Siren?” Terry called over to him.

Siren shifted a bit but didn’t wake. Terry could hear Vess as he called for Michael, and a few moments later there was a crash as Michael threw open the door to the other bedroom. Terry approached Siren and glanced down at him, looking for signs of injury. His eyes fell on the tiny head-wound and he took a seat on the bed and brushed Siren’s hair aside so he could take a look. Siren tried to squirm away from him, but Terry persisted so he could make sure the injury wasn’t serious. Other than a nasty-looking bruise, the wound itself was tiny and didn’t seem to be a cause for concern. Terry was willing to bet whoever struck him was the cause of Siren’s ‘episode’.

Siren’s eyes slowly opened and he looked up at Terry, his expression completely blank.

“You took a nasty knock on the head,” Terry commented, “Do you need a painkiller?”

Siren said nothing and simply continued staring at him.

“Did Vess or MJ hurt you?” Terry demanded softly, “What happened?”

Siren slowly reached out and grabbed hold of Terry’s sleeve. Terry looked down at Siren’s tight grip, and he frowned, realizing Siren was in a confused state. 

“Come on,” Terry said softly, “Let’s get you some breakfast.”

Siren said nothing and Terry pulled aside the blankets, realizing Vess had put Siren to bed fully dressed. The clothes were dirty, wrinkled, and smelled strongly of cigarettes. Cursing Vess’ heartlessness, Terry glanced around the room and saw a dufflebag by the foot of the bed. Yanking it up onto the bed, he saw it was Siren’s belongings.

“Okay, let’s get you changed,” Terry informed him, “You better not get mad at me for this later.”

Siren said nothing, and so Terry began removing a new change of clothes out of the bag. Five minutes later, he had Siren dressed and packed up to leave. Siren clung to his arm tightly as they left the room, and when they entered the kitchen, Vess glanced up from his meal. Vess then let out a deep sigh at the sight of Siren and glared at him.

“I see he still hasn’t snapped out of it.”

“No, sir,” Terry replied.

“It seems Siren is leaving most of today’s work to me as usual,” Vess muttered, “Keep a close eye on him today and inform me the moment he snaps out of this.”

Terry gave him a nod.

“There’s an omelette on that plate for Siren,” Vess informed him, getting to his feet, “Make sure he eats something today.”

“Are you leaving already?” Michael complained, “I’ve only been awake for like five minutes!”

“I have a lot of work to do today,” Vess replied, leaning down to kiss him, “I’ll see you tonight, alright?”

Michael scowled down at his breakfast but he nodded all the same. As Vess left the apartment, Terry sat Siren down in one of the chairs and pulled the remaining omelet in front of him. Siren wouldn’t let go of him and so Terry sat down beside him and then began trying to coax him into trying a bite of the food. Siren tried one bite of the egg, immediately spit it out and then refused to try it again. He managed to get him to drink a glass of milk, but he refused all food. Michael watched all of this silently, and Terry was starting to get annoyed by the blatant staring.

“How did Siren get injured?” Terry demanded.

Michael gave him a shrug. “He tripped.”

Terry narrowed his eyes. “I’m sure.”

“I’m getting married,” Michael informed him, holding out his hand to show off the ring, “Numa proposed to me on Christmas Day!”

Terry gave him a look of complete horror, but Michael didn’t notice.

“I’ve been working on the wedding plans, and I’m thinking about inviting everyone in the lab. The firehall in town is pretty big and the wedding party should fit in there with no problem. It’s going to be the most dope wedding ever!”

Terry swallowed heavily, trying to push aside his obvious distaste and gave the boy a nod. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” Michael answered, glancing down at Siren’s food, “He doesn’t like eggs?”

“Apparently not,” Terry responded with a sigh.

“If he’s not going to eat his omelet, I’ll take it,” Michael said, reaching for the plate, “Numa’s cooking is awesome.”

“Siren spit in it,” Terry pointed out.

“I’ll just pick around that,” Michael replied, “It’s only a  **little** spit.”

Terry rolled his eyes and then shoved the plate over to him. He helped Siren out of his seat and then headed for the door having no idea what he was going to do for the day. They gained several odd stares as they made their way down the hallway, but Terry ignored them. Dropping off Siren’s bag in his bedroom, he continued walking.

“I’m not spending the next ten hours sitting around,” Terry informed him, “You could do with some exercise, so let’s go for a walk.”

Terry actually had a relaxing morning of walking around the entire complex several times, and he stopped and chatted with several of his fellow guards. Everyone was curious over Siren’s current confused state, but when Terry explained, all of them were sympathetic. Siren seemed fine to ignore when people poked at him or talked about him as long as he still had a grip on Terry. Seeing Siren in such a docile state put the guards all at ease and Terry had company for most of the morning.

When lunchtime rolled around, he unpacked the two lunches his wife had sent and then tried to convince Siren to try some of it.

“Lucy packed you a really nice turkey dinner,” Terry told him, “She’s going to be really worried if you won’t even try it.”

Siren said nothing and didn’t move. Terry wondered when the last time Siren had eaten, and was worried that Vess had ignored him for several days. What if Siren hadn’t eaten since the last time Terry had worked? 

Several other guards were sitting with them at the table chatting as Terry tried and tried and tried to coax Siren into eating something. Siren refused to try anything he was offered, and actually seemed to be getting agitated the more Terry tried to force him.

“Siren won’t eat mashed potatoes,” someone suddenly said, “or turkey, or gravy, or stuffing.”

Terry looked up and saw the lunch lady was giving Siren a pitying look.

“I don’t know what else I can do,” Terry said in defeat, “I’m going to have to contact the nurse to syringe feed him again. I can’t get him to eat anything.”

“Hold off on that for a few minutes,” the lunch lady advised, “Let me try something. I’ve had ten years to learn Siren’s food habits.”

Terry watched her open the freezer door in the kitchen and pull out a bag labelled ‘Siren’ on the front. He then watched as she poured a good amount of fries into the deep fryer.

“Siren has special fries?” Terry questioned in disbelief.

“He used to pitch a massive fit if his fries weren’t all the exact same length, and so I made him a special bag of fries. Every fry is exactly 4 inches long and there is no skin or blemishes on any of the fries. I couldn’t stand his tantrums and so I started keeping fries just for him.”

Terry glanced down at Siren and rolled his eyes. That certainly sounded like a Siren-like thing for him to do. Just a few minutes later, the lunch lady plunked down a steaming hot plate of fries, a pudding cup, and a can of Pepsi in front of Siren.

“Siren-fries with extra salt,” she announced, “Enjoy,”

Siren side-eyed the plate of fries for a moment but then to Terry’s surprise, he reached out and took one. Letting out a breath of relief, Terry turned a grateful smile up at lunch lady.

“Thank you,” he told her, pulling out his wallet, “How much do I owe you?”

The lunch lady let out a snort of amusement. “I have known Siren for over ten years now and he has never  **once** paid for his lunch. I stopped arguing with him about it years ago. Don’t worry about it, I’m not charging him.”

“...he’s stolen ten years worth of lunches from this cafeteria?”

“He sure has,” she answered, heading back to the kitchen, “I stopped keeping track after he reached the $10,000 mark in owed lunches.”

Terry sighed and then went back to his own lunch as Siren slowly nibbled on the fries. Terry finished his own lunch and then started on Siren’s unwanted lunch. When Siren finished his last fry, and started on the pudding cup, Terry began packing everything up. When Siren pushed aside the half-finished pudding, Terry tossed it in the garbage and then waved at the lunch lady in thanks.

“You want to keep walking or relax for the afternoon?” Terry asked Siren as they left the lunchroom.

Siren didn’t respond or give any indication he had heard. They walked for a few minutes, but when they passed Siren’s bedroom, Siren began dragging his heels and pulling against him.

“You want to stay in your room?” Terry questioned.

Siren’s grip tightened on his arm, and Terry backed up a few steps to the bedroom and opened the door. Siren followed him in without protest and so Terry figured he must have worn him out from all the walking. Siren wasn’t exactly in the best shape - perhaps it had been too much for him?

“How about if I put on a movie for us to watch?” Terry suggested, pulling Siren’s laptop out of the dufflebag.

Plugging it in, he took a seat on the bed and Siren curled up next to him, eyes already on the screen. When Terry turned on the laptop, his gaze immediately fell on the notifications. There were over 200 emergency notifications from Team Red. Terry let out a curse and glanced down at Siren. He didn’t know Team Red’s contact information and had no way of getting in touch with them. There was nothing he could do for now but wait for Siren to snap out of it. Letting out a stressed sigh, Terry logged into his Netflix account and clicked on a random movie.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Matryoshka glanced behind them as they drove away, but she didn’t see anyone pursuing. Putting her gun away, she turned her attention to Carmen who was simply staring at her.

“You’re really beautiful,” Matryoshka said sadly, “Such pretty hair. I can see a lot of Dexter in you...”

“I’ve been looking for you for a long time…” Carmen responded, “You are an  **incredibly** hard woman to track down, Vera Cruz.”

Matryoshka nodded. “I should hope so. That’s one of many aliases I use, and I work very hard at remaining in the shadows. There are many people who hate the Volkovs, and I can never be too careful.”

“My name is Carmen, and...I’m really glad to meet you,” Carmen said, feeling a bit awkward.

Matryoshka hesitated for a moment and then pulled Carmen into a bone crushing hug. “I’m so sorry, Carmen, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I  **should** have been there.”

“No, it wasn’t your fault!” Carmen assured her.

Matryoshka tightened the hug. “I was supposed to be there that day, but I decided to delay my return so I could go to a concert with Alexei. Because of my selfishness, Dexter and you were left alone during the raid. I’m so sorry! If I was there, things may have gone differently.”

“Or you might have died right beside him,” Carmen pointed out, “There’s no point in focusing on ‘what-ifs’. V.I.L.E tried to have Dexter killed and they were the ones to keep me hostage for most of my life. My team has been working to take down V.I.L.E, and we could use your help.”

Matryoshka released her, and gave her a thoughtful look. 

“We will discuss all of this once we get to a safe location,” she replied, glancing out the window again, “I’ve arranged to have blood drawn to confirm your identity.”

Carmen nodded and once again felt nervous. She was going to find out for certain if this was her mother, and she clenched her hands into fists anxiously as they drove along. Julia was in the same car as them, but to her credit, she didn’t say a single word, wanting to give them a bit of privacy. The cars drove for over an hour because they made as many turns through the city as possible in case they were being tailed.

Eventually they pulled into a parking lot of a boarded up Chuck-E Cheese, and hid the cars behind the building.

“...interesting meeting spot,” Carmen commented in amusement.

“We had to find a place on short notice,” Matryoshka defended, “Dmitry did the best he could.”

As everyone exited the vehicles, Team Crackle seemed incredibly wary and began gathering together, eyeing the boarded up building skeptically. Crackle checked over Otterman and once he determined his team were unharmed, he began to relax somewhat. 

“Please come inside,” Matryoshka invited them, “I want us to have a conversation about everything that’s happened.”

“All of us?” Roosevelt asked in surprise.

Normally when Otterman met with his aunt and uncle, they didn’t want a whole crowd tagging along.

“Yes, everyone can come inside,” she confirmed, “Hurry up before we’re spotted out here.”

As the cars pulled away, she led the way towards the front door. It easily pulled open and when they entered, they saw the lights were on and several Void foot-soldiers were waiting with Plague Doctor. 

The restaurant still had dusty old game equipment everywhere, and the entire building looked to be on the verge of collapse. Tiles were hanging from the ceiling, and every surface was completely grimy like old grease had splattered on everything. Dash seemed completely revolted, but he stayed silent and remained standing beside Neal and Crackle.

Zack wandered over to look at several broken animatronics, and all four cats in the group were being held tightly by their owners. Matryoshka glanced around at everyone and she seemed to notice the cats for the first time.

“Why does everyone have a cat?” she demanded.

“They were our Christmas presents,” Otterman replied, hugging Findus close. 

Plague Doctor pushed past everyone until he made his way to Mime Bomb, and then he yanked him into a hug so tight, Mime Bomb wheezed in pain. He looked up at Plague Doctor’s mask, but he couldn’t even see the man’s eyes. Wanting to confirm for himself that this was Dmitry, Mime Bomb slowly reached up towards the mask. Plague Doctor surprisingly allowed it, and a moment later, Mime Bomb was staring into a very familiar face.

Plague Doctor was a bit older now, but he still looked almost exactly the same. His eyes seemed incredibly sad now, and gone was the mischievous spark that Mime Bomb remembered. He offered Mime Bomb a gentle smile, and Mime Bomb knew his uncle must have gone through hell. He stepped forward and hugged his uncle tightly, and Plague Doctor relaxed a bit. Mime Bomb then turned his gaze to his aunt who was watching the interaction happily. Matryoshka reached out and pulled Mime Bomb into a hug, and then ruffled his hair with an amused smile on her lips.

“Another redhead!” she commented, “I bet my mother would be thrilled by this! Her hair used to be red when she was young.”

Mime Bomb straightened his hair, and gave Matryoshka an uncertain look as she turned to also give a quick hug to Otterman.

“Are we ready to test the DNA now?” Matryoshka demanded, glancing over at her brother.

Plague Doctor nodded and pointed towards one of the men standing nearby.

“Do I have your permission?” Matryoshka demanded, glancing from Carmen to Mime Bomb.

The two redheads exchanged a look and then both nodded, wanting to know for sure.

“Aw man, I used to love Chuck-E Cheeses!” Zack complained, glancing around at the dirty and destroyed restaurant, “This is making me sad. Pasqually looks like a zombie.”

“You got food poisoning the last time you went to one,” Ivy pointed out.

“...It was worth it,” Zack replied with a sigh.

Carmen shook her head in amusement and allowed herself to be led over to a nearby chair. She was urged to take a seat, and she removed her coat as the man opened a medical bag. Rolling up her sleeve, her arm was disinfected and then she winced as the syringe went in. Three vials of blood were drawn and labeled, and then it was Mime Bomb’s turn.

Mime Bomb didn’t protest and he allowed his blood to be taken, just wanting some answers. As the man crossed the room to where he had some equipment set up, Carmen and Mime Bomb turned to Matryoshka.

“Alright, while we’re waiting for the results, tell me what’s going on with V.I.L.E,” Matryoshka ordered.

Plague Doctor was instantly alert and his expression soured at the mention of V.I.L.E.

Carmen wondered how many times she was going to have to explain this same story, but she cleared her throat and started from the very beginning.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

“Numa?”

Vess ignored Michael and didn’t look up from his work.

“Numa?”

“I’m busy.”

“Numa? I want to talk about something important.”

Vess let out a sigh, marked his page in the research binder and then turned a tired gaze to his partner. “Alright, Michael, what is it?”

“You know how I’ve been planning out everything for our wedding?”

Vess sighed again. “Yes, and?”

“I’ve rented the firehall, hired a caterer, sent out the invites, bought the tuxes, ordered the cake, ordered the decorations, and bought the fanciest wine I could find.”

Vess had no interest in any of that, and glanced back at his research. “And?”

Michael shifted a bit before answering. “I was wondering if you already knew what you were giving me as my wedding gift?”

Vess looked back up. “Your what?”

“My wedding gift,” Michael replied, “Since you said we can’t have a honeymoon, it’s common to exchange gifts instead, right?”

Vess raised a brow. “You want me to give you a gift?”

Michael shifted again. “Well...yeah.”

Vess was instantly suspicious but he didn’t know why. There had to be  **some** reason why Michael was acting on edge.

“And I suppose you know what you want?” he guessed.

Michael gave a slow nod.

Vess was already fully prepared to say no to whatever it was, but he still wanted to hear him out. “And how much is this gift going to cost me?” he asked.

“Oh, not too much...I found what I wanted online, and it will only cost like €10,000…”

Vess was actually expecting whatever it was to cost a lot more than that, and he relaxed a bit. He was expecting Michael to ask for a yacht or some other expensive nonsense.

“That’s not  **too** outrageous,” Vess admitted, “What is it you want?”

Michael shifted again. “Okay, before I answer that question, just hear me out first.”

Vess narrowed his eyes to slits.

“It’s perfectly legal in most parts of Russia, and I know I’m responsible enough to handle it. I’ll take care of everything and you won’t have a thing to worry about, I promise!”

“Michael, you had better not be asking me to buy you drugs because I swear-”

“No, no, nothing like that!” Michael assured him, “Weed is enough for me.”

“Then what do you want?” Vess demanded, beginning to lose his patience.

“Keep in mind that I’m now an adult and very responsible…”

“Spit it out, Michael, or you’re not getting whatever it is.”

“I want a tiger!”

Vess blinked at him in confusion. “A what?”

“...a tiger?”

Vess furrowed his brow. “Is that slang for something?”

“No, I want a real live breathing tiger. His name will be Fang, and I’m going to train him to attack my enemies.”

Vess didn’t even know how to respond to such a ridiculous request. Michael misunderstood his silence and began assuring him that he already found the one he wanted, and that he’d take care of the whole transaction. Vess simply stared at him and then sighed for the third time.

“Michael, you are  **not** getting a tiger!”

“Why?” Michael demanded, “Tigers are the coolest animals on earth. Nothing is more manly than having a pet tiger!”

Vess closed his research binder and turned to fully face Michael. “You’re actually serious!” he exclaimed in disbelief, “You actually think I’m going to buy you a tiger!”

Michael crossed his arms and scowled at him. “Of course I’m serious! I’ve always wanted one, and now I can!”

“No, you can’t,” Vess told him firmly, “Don’t be so foolish.”

“No, I did all my research!” Michael insisted, “I’ve made a list of all the reasons I need a tiger.”

Vess was in disbelief when Michael actually pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it.

“Reason number 1: They’re fucking cool.”

“I really need to find you something better to occupy your time…”

“Reason number 2: No one will ever fuck with me ever again.”

Vess sighed yet again.

“Reason number 3: I can ride it.”

It was at this point that Vess tuned him out and began thinking about his research again. He was mentally trying to figure out a difficult problem and he didn’t even notice when Michael finally finished listing off stupid reasons to get a tiger.

“Numa, are you even listening to me?” Michael demanded, his tone offended.

Vess glanced at him and briefly wondered if this whole thing was a mistake. He loved Michael, but sometimes the other man really got on his nerves.

“Alright, Michael, let’s think about this logically for a moment.”

“Okay.”

“A tiger is a massive, wild predator. Its teeth and claws are three inches long, and they’re extremely temperamental. It will kill you.”

Michael adamantly shook his head. “No, it won’t!” he protested, “I’ll train him to love and protect me!”

“We live in Northern Siberia, in a medical lab, and our apartment only has two bedrooms. Where would you even put a 600 pound Tiger?”

“It can sleep in my room!” Michael insisted, “You won’t even know its there!”

Vess pinched the bridge of his nose and knew there was no logic when it came to Michael.

“No, Michael, you’re not getting a tiger,” Vess said with finality.

“Why not?!” Michael demanded angrily, “I could just buy it myself!”

“If you bring a tiger into this lab, I’ll  **shoot** it, Michael. I said no, and you had better not go behind my back and try to buy one anyway.”

“But-”

“ **NO** , Michael,” Vess snapped, starting to get angry, “This is the most childish, ridiculous thing you’ve ever tried to do. I honestly thought better of you.”

Michael felt his face flush.

“I'm tired of hearing about this and I don’t want it brought up again, do you understand?”

Michael was angry himself right now, and he crossed his arms. “My grandparents want me to visit them in a couple weeks, and maybe  **they’ll** get me a tiger!”

Vess seriously doubted it. “They’re not going to accept this marriage,” he pointed out, “The Volkovs hate everything about me.”

“They’ll accept it!” Michael assured him, “My grandparents love me too much to ever deny me anything I want! They’ll come to the wedding, and they’ll buy me a tiger as a wedding present!”

Vess simply shook his head and opened his binder again. “I need to get back to work, Michael. Go do something productive.”

“Like what?”

Vess honestly had no idea. “I don’t know, go over your wedding plans again or something.”

Michael instantly cheered up. “Oh, good idea! I still have so much to take care of before the wedding! This is going to be the best Valentine’s Day ever!”

Vess rolled his eyes. Getting married on Valentine’s Day was a bit corny, but since it made Michael happy, he didn’t protest it. Once Michael left the lab, Vess went back to his research, instantly forgetting everything about tigers.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Plague Doctor studied the information on his screen and then glanced over at the doctor beside him. The man nodded his agreement, and Plague Doctor turned his gaze to his sister. He gave her a thumb’s up and Matryoshka let out a happy laugh. She threw her arms around both Carmen and Mime Bomb and hugged them as tightly as she could.

“I knew in my heart you were family,” she told them, “I’m sorry you both had such a hard life, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you.”

“I’m still in disbelief over everything that’s happened,” Carmen admitted, “I finally have blood family.”

Crackle stared at the screen to confirm the results and then he glanced over at Otterman who was hugging Findus close. He’d been stressed and anxious this entire meeting and Crackle couldn’t blame him. This was going to seriously complicate things in the future. He knew there was no way Otterman would allow them to harm his cousins, and Crackle had a feeling this was going to cause a strain.

“You know everything that Vess is up to, and what V.I.L.E has done to our family,” Carmen said to her mother, “Will The Void join us?”

“This is a matter that will have to be thoroughly discussed with the organization and-”

Plague Doctor shoved her out of his way and nodded confidently. He took Mime Bomb by the hand and took Carmen’s in his other and nodded again.

“Dmitry!” Matryoshka snapped, “You can’t just jump into a decision like this!”

Plague Doctor met her gaze directly. She could see the fury and pain that lurked in his eyes and she knew he would be attacking that lab with or without her help. 

“Are you sure?”

Plague Doctor nodded.

Matryoshka let out a deep and aggravated sigh and then reached out to drape an arm over Otterman’s shoulders.

“It looks like I have no choice in the matter. You will have the Void’s complete support.”

“Fantastic!” Zack crowed out, looking up from his game of whack-a-mole, “V.I.L.E doesn’t stand a chance!”

The three teams were seated together on the floor and most found this entire situation awkward. 

“We still have to meet our grandparents,” Otterman pointed out.

Matryoshka grimaced. “Good luck,” she commented, “There’s a reason Dmitry and I haven’t been back there for years. High society life was  **not** for us.”

“I think we should take things slow,” Carmen suggested, “I’m already overwhelmed and I want a chance to bond with my mother, uncle and cousins before adding even more family members.”

Mime Bomb waved Zack over and then began signing. 

“Perhaps I could set up a meeting with them in a few weeks?” Zack translated, “I could explain that you two aren’t quite ready for a meeting right now, and you need some time to adjust to the idea of being a Volkov.”

Carmen and Otterman glanced at each other.

“That actually sounds...nice,” Otterman admitted, “I don’t want things to go too fast.”

“Maybe we can set something up around the end of January?” Carmen suggested, “Then we can have a full month before meeting them.”

Mime Bomb nodded.

“After what happened the last time our team was in one of the Volkov manors, I doubt I’ll be able to convince them to allow everyone to come.”

“We’ll deal with that when the time comes,” Carmen assured him, “We have so much to discuss that we should just concentrate on that right now.”

“Right,” Crackle suddenly agreed, “We have a three-way truce for right now, and so we need to make sure we’re all on the same page about everything. I think we need to be in constant contact until the day of the attack.”

“That would make the most sense,” Matryoshka agreed, “I’m going to have a few cars come pick us up and they can take you wherever you want. I’d like a little time with my daughter and nephews however.”

“I don’t feel comfortable with that,” Shadowsan commented, “You two are complete strangers to us and we have no idea if we can trust you.”

“We can trust them,” Otterman assured him, “You have nothing to worry about.”

“I barely even know  **you** ,” Shadowsan pointed out.

“...fair enough,” Otterman responded, “What if just you accompany us then?”

Shadowsan nodded his agreement but Matryoshka didn’t look convinced. She looked him up and down slowly as if trying to determine his worth, both grateful and angry at him at the same time. He had saved Carmen’s life, but then he had taken her back to V.I.L.E where they attempted to corrupt her. Carmen seemed incredibly attached to him however, and so she was willing to be civil for now until she could better judge him.

“When will you be home?” Crackle demanded, glancing over at Otterman.

“I want to be home before dark,” he replied, glancing at Matryoshka as he did so.

“That can be arranged,” she promised, “I want to get to know my family.”

Most of Team Red seemed incredibly uncertain, but they weren’t going to say anything, not when Carmen and Mime Bomb were so excited. When the cars arrived a few minutes later, the teams separated, and were all taken home.

When Team Red arrived at the base, they were shocked to discover dozens of packages waiting on their porch. Zack hurried over to them excitedly but he was surprised to see they all had Mime Bomb’s name on them. 

“They’re for Mime Bomb!” he exclaimed, “ **All** of them!”

Everyone gathered around and inspected the packages and discovered they were all postmarked from Russia.

“...looks like Mime Bomb received more Christmas presents from his grandparents,” El Topo observed.

“Geez, look at them all!” Zack commented, “I’m surprised they weren’t all stolen while we were gone.”

“I think the overgrown bushes hide the front porch from view,” Julia pointed out.

“Let’s bring them in and leave them on his bed! He’s going to be so surprised!” Ivy said with a laugh, “I wonder what’s in them?”

Everyone grabbed an armload of packages and they looked them over as they brought them inside. Tigress set down Pierrot on the bed and Zack set up a cardboard box to use as a temporary litterbox.

When Mime Bomb and Carmen returned home hours later, they were both shocked by the sheer amount of gifts.

Mime Bomb had never received so many things in his entire life, and he honestly felt a little guilty over it. The gifts were all manner of things from expensive clothing, to electronics, to books. His grandparents had obviously put a lot of work into trying to find things they thought he’d like, and he knew he should call them up to thank them.

Knowing he had to get the big reveal over with eventually, he and Zack made the call together. He started things off gently by thanking his grandparents for the gifts and then asking about their Christmas. They were upset that MJ had blown them off for Christmas, but that honestly didn’t surprise Mime Bomb.

Mime Bomb then revealed he found the two missing Volkov grandchildren. To say his grandparents were shocked would be an understatement, and Mime Bomb was honestly worried they were going to have heart attacks. Mime Bomb and by extension Zack, explained everything, and told them that Carmen and Otterman weren’t ready to meet them just yet.

Mikhael was understandably upset over this, but he agreed to take things very slowly since they were all technically strangers. They agreed to an in-person meeting for February 1st with just the Volkovs and no other guests. Team Crackle and Team Red would have to wait at a nearby hotel and they would not be permitted on the grounds. 

Mikhael stated he would send someone to San Diego for blood samples and Mime Bomb had agreed. His grandparents had never seemed happier, and Mime Bomb hoped everything would go smoothly.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TIMESKIP Feb. 1st**

The car pulled through the gates of the manor, and Mime Bomb noted that this house was even larger than the one in India. He knew his grandparents traveled frequently to their various properties around the world, and this was his first time seeing the Volkov Manor. The property in India had felt cold and intimidating, but the Volkov Manor was the complete opposite. The building was a soft brown in colour, and it was surrounded by gardens on all sides. 

Mime Bomb stared at the frozen garden, and his gaze fell on several hedge archways that seemed to lead into a maze of some sort. Trees that were bowed from ice almost looked blue, and the frozen garden was incredibly beautiful despite the fact that the flowers had long since died.

Breathing a warm puff of air into his hands, Mime Bomb glanced beside him at Carmen who was looking around in obvious curiosity. He offered her a reassuring smile and reached for her hand, which she gladly took. Although Carmen was doing her best not to show it, she was incredibly nervous. Her grandparents had disowned Alexandria, and she wondered if they would do the same to her. Alexandria did not have many good things to say about them, and this had her rather concerned. They treated Mime Bomb incredibly well, but would that extend to her too?

Otterman and Moose Boy got out of the other car, and they headed over to them, glad to see familiar faces. Otterman was carrying Findus in his arms and it was obvious he was incredibly nervous about this meeting. The kitten was much bigger now and she was wearing a knitted sweater with a harness, and seemed perfectly content to be carried around.

“Hello,” Otterman greeted with a smile.

“Hi, Sven,” Carmen immediately answered as Mime Bomb waved.

“This is an enormous house…” Otterman observed, “The Volkov family must be incredibly wealthy. What exactly do they do? Are they thieves?”

Mime Bomb gave a shrug. He’d honestly never wanted to know, and he had a feeling it was better that way.

“The Volkovs have their fingers in a lot of pots,” Carmen replied, “Most of their operations have ceased however since the head of Volkov retired. Our grandparents don’t seem to be into anything  **too** evil if that’s what you were worried about.”

Moose Boy draped an arm loosely over Otterman’s shoulders, and stared up at the manor in awe.

“This place looks like a Swedish bus terminal,” he commented.

“...it really doesn’t,” Otterman replied, snapping a picture with his com.

The front door opened and Sebastian, the Volkov house manager, stepped outside, his uniform as immaculate as always.

“Welcome,” he called out to them, “Please come this way.”

They exchanged a look and Mime Bomb took the lead with everyone following behind him, feeling a bit awkward. When Sebastian’s eyes fell on Mime Bomb, he let out a deep sigh of exasperation and then gave the boy a disapproving frown.

“Master Yuri, you’re dressed as a clown again!” he scolded, “You cannot meet your grandparents in this condition!”

Mime Bomb rolled his eyes at him, and Sebastian sighed again and then turned his attention to Carmen.

“Mistress Anna?” he questioned.

“Please call me Carmen, it’s the only name I’ve known,” Carmen requested, “It’s been a long time since we last met, Sebastian.”

“I was not aware of who you were at the time, otherwise I would  **not** have treated you so poorly,” he explained, “I apologize if my words or actions upset you.”

“No need to apologize, I’m just glad you managed to get out before the building burned down,” Carmen assured him, “I had no idea you didn’t really work for the Finnegans.”

Sebastian expression soured. “I was placed within the Finnegan Empire to keep an eye on Master Michael. This was not an arrangement either of us liked.”

Carmen could see the dislike lurking in Sebastian’s eyes and had a feeling Michael didn’t make things easy for him during that arrangement.

Sebastian’s gaze then went to Otterman and his eyes widened at the sight of him. “Master Sven,” he greeted, “How nice to meet you!”

“Er...likewise,” Otterman responded awkwardly.

Sebastian seemed to get over whatever had taken him off guard and he then frowned at the cat in Otterman’s arms.

“Are you planning on bringing that animal inside the manor?” he asked.

Otterman immediately nodded. “Yes, her name is Findus, and I need her. She helps me calm down when I’m stressed.”

“This is highly irregular,” Sebastian complained, “Having an animal at the dinner table is incredibly unsanitary!”

“She’ll be fine,” Otterman assured him, “She’ll just sit on my lap out of sight.”

Sebastian frowned, but he let it drop as his attention then went to Moose Boy. “Who is this?” he demanded, “You were told that no teammates were allowed during this dinner. This meeting is for family only. Whoever this is will have to wait in the car.”

“Henrik  **is** family,” Otterman said firmly, holding up his hand to show his engagement ring.

Sebastian looked completely taken aback, and he stared first at the ring and then at Moose Boy. He muttered something under his breath in Russian and Otterman narrowed his eyes. Otterman was aware that there were still a lot of prejudices against same-sex relationships in Russia, and he wasn’t going to put up with any comments towards himself. He hadn’t heard what Sebastian had said, but he had a feeling he wouldn’t like it.

“I would appreciate it if you kept your comments to yourself,” Otterman said in an icy tone of voice, “It’s frankly no one else’s business whom I choose to marry.”

Sebastian seemed genuinely surprised and then he instantly became apologetic.

“My apologies, Master Sven, I was just surprised. I promise I will never make any comments towards you or...your partner.”

Otterman glared at him for a moment, but accepted the apology and gave him a nod. He was fully prepared to be rejected by his grandparents and was preparing himself for inevitable hurt that was to come. Family had hurt him too many times in his lifetime, and he was feeling spiky and defensive. He hugged Findus close who immediately began purring, and he found himself slowly calming down. The kitten had been a lifesaver for him, and he found he depended on her a lot lately.

“Please come inside and get cleaned up for dinner,” Sebastian invited, motioning for everyone to head inside.

They followed him inside and they were met with the sight of dozens of servants lined up inside, clearly waiting to greet them.

“Alright everyone,” Sebastian announced to the crowd, “You will make sure all the Volkov grandchildren are presentable for dinner. You have thirty minutes.”

Mime Bomb had been through this once before and he let out a huff of annoyance as he was descended upon by a group of servants. Carmen and Otterman exchanged alarmed looks as they were pulled away in different directions, but when they saw Mime Bomb wasn’t concerned, they relaxed and simply allowed themselves to be led away. Moose Boy’s brow was furrowed and he followed behind Otterman, having no idea what was going on.

Mime Bomb was relieved that this time he was allowed to shower and get cleaned up himself, but the servants still waited nearby with new clothes for him. He wished he could keep his facepaint on, but he doubted there was any way they would allow him out of the room if he tried. His clothing was all black like last time and incredibly expensive. The servants fussed over his hair until it was neatly brushed, and then he was led out of the room. He followed behind them as they led him to the dining room, and the moment he entered, his grandparents looked up from where they were seated at the table.

Annika got to her feet and hurried towards him, arms thrown wide and an ecstatic smile on her face. She pulled him down into a hug and then she kissed his cheek and started speaking to him a mile a minute in Russian. Although he didn’t understand anything besides his name, he returned her smile and allowed her to pull him towards his grandfather. His grandfather gave him a proud smile, and he also pulled him into a tight hug.

“You look good, Yuri,” he told him, “I hope things have been going well for you since we last spoke.”

Mime Bomb nodded and he took a seat at the table as his grandfather gave him an enthusiastic clap on the back.

“Have you looked over the books and applications I sent you?” Mikhael asked.

Mime Bomb hadn’t even given them more than a glance and he held his thumb and index finger about an inch apart. Mikhael frowned at him, but simply gave him another pat on the back.

“I only want what’s best for you, and you’re such a smart boy that it would be a shame if you didn’t further your education,” Mikhael informed him, “Moscow State University is an incredibly good school and I just know you would love it. You could come home to us on the weekends and of course spend holidays with us. We would really love to have you, Yuri.”

Mime Bomb averted his gaze and gave a shrug. There was simply too much going on right now for him to even think about it. The dining room doors opened and Carmen entered wearing a beautiful and sleek black dress that fit her perfectly. Her hair was done up, and she was wearing light makeup and the jewelry she wore looked incredibly expensive.

“Anna!” Annika cried out, rushing over to embrace her granddaughter.

Carmen smiled down at the tiny old woman, and then she smiled over at Mime Bomb who was clearly nervous.

“ _ Здравствуйте _ ,” Carmen greeted respectfully, “ _ меня зовут Кармен _ .”

“ _ Вы говорите по-русски _ ?!” Annika cried out in delight.

“Only a little bit,” Carmen said apologetically, “One of my nannies was Russian.”

Mikhael translated for Annika who seemed a bit disappointed but she smiled at Carmen all the same. She chattered away to Carmen and reached up a hand to her red hair, obviously delighted by it. Mikhael hugged her tightly and he too reached up a hand to her hair.

“She says you look just like your mother used to,” Mikhael translated, “Except for your hair colour. Annika used to be a ginger in her youth and so you and your cousin Yuri either got the red hair from her, or from your non-Volkov parent.”

“You disowned my mother,” Carmen carefully pointed out, stepping back from him, “I’m surprised you wanted to meet me…”

Mikhael hesitated and then slowly nodded. He motioned for Carmen to approach and when she neared, he gently took her by the hands.

“Annika and I have a lot of regrets about our lives, and how Alexandria was treated was one of them. Our pride ruined our family, and we lost all of our children because of it. I wish we could change the past, but we have to live with our mistakes. We may have failed our children, but we want to make things right with our grandchildren.”

Carmen slowly nodded, having a feeling there was a lot more to this than she was being told.

“Come sit down,” Mikhael requested, “We want to hear all about you!”

Carmen took a seat across from Mime Bomb who gave her an encouraging smile which she returned. Although she was a bit nervous, she was also incredibly curious about the Volkovs. Before she had the chance to ask anything however, the dining room door opened a second time and Otterman entered followed closely by Moose Boy. Like the others, Otterman had been cleaned up and he was wearing clothing similar to that of Mime Bomb. He seemed incredibly nervous and he was holding Findus tightly in his arms as he approached. Moose Boy had been cleaned up as well, and he seemed incredibly uncomfortable in the fancy clothing.

When Annika’s eyes fell on Otterman she let out a shocked gasp.

“Maxim?!”

Otterman froze in the doorway and felt like he’d just been slapped. It must have shown on his face because Annika quickly corrected herself.

“Sven!” she exclaimed, approaching to give him a hug.

He stepped back from her as she reached for him, and a look of instant hurt crossed her face.

[[I am not Maxim, and I am  **nothing** like him,]] Otterman informed her in perfect Russian, [[If you  **ever** compare me to him again, I will leave and I will  **not** return.]]

“You speak Russian!” Mikhael exclaimed in surprise.

Otterman nodded. [[Aunt Alexandria taught me Russian when I was a child. I’m a bit rusty, but I can speak it well enough.]]

Annika began apologizing to him profusely and Otterman didn’t sense any sort of hostility from her and so he slowly began to relax. She cooed over Findus for a moment, and Otterman now felt like he had overreacted. He hated that he looked like his father, but that wasn’t anyone’s fault, and of course they would make that observation about him.

When Annika yanked him into a hug, his whole body stiffened but he didn’t try to pull away from her. He allowed her to pull him towards the table, and he noticed Mikhael’s gaze fall on Moose Boy. Mikhael hugged Otterman tightly, and then frowned up at Moose Boy.

“Who is that?” he demanded, “This meeting is supposed to be for family only!”

“He  **is** family,” Otterman responded firmly, holding up his hand to show off his engagement ring, “This is Henrik, my fiancé.”

Mikhael went dead silent and Otterman could feel the disapproval in the old man’s eyes.

“Do you have a problem with that?” Otterman demanded.

Mikhael didn’t answer, but it was obvious he  **did** have issues with this. Otterman narrowed his eyes at him, and felt his anger begin to grow. He should have known it was too good to be true. Family could never be trusted. They were going to hurt him and toss him aside like everyone else in his life had.

Otterman pulled away from his grandmother and then turned towards the door. “It was nice meeting you, but I refuse to be somewhere where I’m clearly not welcome. I refuse to hide who I am, and if you can’t accept that, then I have no interest in any sort of relationship with you.”

Mikhael stood quickly to his feet and caught Otterman by the elbow. Otterman flinched away from him violently and Mikhael’s gaze softened as he realized his grandson had likely not had an easy life. There was so much pain in Otterman’s eyes, and Mikhael knew he was on very thin ice.

“You will always be welcome in our home,” Mikhael assured him, “You and your...Henrik. I was taken by surprise, but you are family and I will not judge you for your choice of partners. Please come sit down and get to know us. We will not hurt you here.”

Otterman knew how prejudiced certain types of people could be in Russia and so he was hesitant. His grandfather did seem to be trying however, and he could appreciate that. His grandmother was chattering excitedly to Henrik who didn’t speak a word of Russian and so he simply smiled and nodded along with what she was saying. Annika seemed like an incredibly sweet person and everything she was saying was incredibly nice, and so once again Otterman found himself relaxing. He gave a nod, and then allowed himself to be pulled over to the table with the others. He took a seat beside Mime Bomb and Moose Boy took a seat beside Carmen. 

Mikhael spoke into his walkie-talkie for a moment and a cook came out of the kitchen and added another plate and cutlery to the table at the seat at the end of the table.

Everyone stared at the empty seat and wondered if their grandparents were expecting another guest.

“I want to learn all about my grandchildren,” Mikhael begged, “Tell me all about yourselves!”

They talked for over two hours and Carmen explained about her life living on V.I.L.E island and how she had defected and created her own team. Mime Bomb had already told them a lot about the situation, but Carmen filled them in on anything they wanted to know. Otterman was very vague in his explanations of how he grew up and spent most of his time telling them about his V.I.L.E career.

When Mikhael found out about Otterman’s damaged eyesight, he vowed to find the best eye surgeon in the entire world to take a look at him. The Volkovs had very deep pockets, and he was certain Vess was mistaken about the permanent blindness. Otterman didn’t want to feel hope only to have it later crushed and so he’d just sort of shrugged along with what Mikhael told him.

All of them noticed Mikhael would glance down at his watch every now and then and then glance over to the door. He frowned in disapproval each and every time he did this and finally he let out a sigh.

“You must all be hungry from your journey,” Mikhael said, “I'll have the cook bring out supper for us.”

Mikhael once again spoke into his walkie-talkie and just seconds later, several cooks entered the room carrying trays. Food was placed in front of each person and a covered tray was left in the empty spot at the end of the table.

Mikhael explained what each dish was to them, and they began to eat, everyone absolutely starving from their long flight. Moose Boy seemed rather uncertain over the unfamiliar foods, but he didn’t comment, and simply ate without complaint. Just as they were starting their last course they heard shouting from the outside hallway.

“Get the fuck away me!”

“Master Michael!” came Sebastian’s scolding voice, “Get back here at once! You need to make yourself presentable! You can’t attend dinner looking like that!”

“Fuck you, penguin!”

“Master Michael! I have strict orders to-”

The door opened and to everyone’s horror, Michael Finnegan Jr entered with Sebastian right on his heels.

“Stop following me!” Michael snarled, “God, I fucking hate you. Go away!”

Sebastian let out a deep sigh of exasperation and turned an apologetic look to his employers. Mikhael waved him out of the room and so Sebastian nodded and respectfully backed out. 

Michael approached his grandmother without hesitation and leaned down to plant a kiss on her cheek.

“Привет бабулечка!” he greeted her.

Annika smiled up at him affectionately and pulled him down for a hug. She began asking him questions at a mile a minute and his expression quickly turned confused. He was completely lost and simply stared at her awkwardly.

“Um...да?” he hesitantly replied.

Annika gently tsked him and then patted him on the head.

“You haven’t been practising your Russian,” Mikhael scolded him, pulling him in for a hug “Your pronunciation is terrible. Have you even opened a single book I sent you?”

“Of course I have!” Michael lied, “I’m not stupid.”

Mikhael narrowed his eyes. “Name one book I gave you.”

Michael faltered and Mikhael sighed heavily. “Your education is important and you need to put in more of an effort to get caught up.”

Michael flushed and said nothing. 

Mikhael sighed again, kissed his grandson on the forehead and then motioned towards the empty chair at the table. “We’ll discuss this later. Sit down and join us for supper.”

Michael turned his attention back to his grandmother, smiled at her and then headed for the empty spot at the table.

Carmen, Mime Bomb and Otterman had completely frozen and they stared at Michael in complete horror. Michael didn’t pay any of them any attention, too busy inspecting what he was served for supper.

“Aw fuck I hate cabbage,” he complained, “I had enough of that shit in Ireland. Who picked out this menu? It was Sebastian, wasn’t it?!”

“Michael, watch your mouth,” Mikhael scolded, “You do  **not** speak like that in this house, do you understand me? Show some respect in front of your elders!”

Michael rolled his eyes and began shoveling food into his mouth with all the grace of a baboon. Mikhael winced at the lack of manners, but decided not to comment on it.

“Michael, I would like to introduce you to your cousins,” Mikhael stated, “This was why I insisted you be here on this day.”

Michael paused, fork halfway to his mouth, and he slowly looked up. His gaze swept across Mime Bomb and Otterman without recognition but when his eyes settled on Carmen, he shot to his feet in an instant.

“YOU!” he screamed out, pointing his fork towards her, “What the hell are ** you ** doing here?! I thought Numa killed you!”

Carmen also got to her feet and her eyes narrowed to slits. “He tried,” she hissed out.

“Michael, sit back down,” Mikhael ordered impatiently, “Stop causing a scene. This is your cousin, Anna.”

Michael sputtered for a moment and then he shook his head. “No she isn’t!” he roared, “She’s Carmen Sandiego! She’s the bitch who destroyed the Finnegan Empire and got me arrested! I spent a month in jail because of her!”

“What happened at the Finnegan company was your own fault,” Mikhael informed him firmly, “You took foolish risks and paid the price because of it. She  **is** your cousin and if I ever hear you use such foul language about her again, then we will have an issue!”

“She’s not my cousin!” Michael yelled back, “Last time she claimed she was my sister and ruined everything, and now she’s trying to do the same thing with the Volkovs!”

“She  **is** your cousin!”

“No, she’s not!” Michael insisted angrily, “You’re letting her fool you!”

Michael whipped his fork at Carmen and it bounced harmlessly off her shoulder.

“MICHAEL!” Mikhael boomed out furiously, “SIT DOWN,  **NOW** !”

Michael froze, stared at his grandfather for a moment and then slowly sat back down.

“You are going to sit there quietly and listen, do you understand?”

“But she’s-”

“Silence,” Mikhael ordered, his tone bordering on dangerous.

Michael fell silent, but he still glared at Carmen, clearly having a lot he wanted to say.

“All three of your cousins have been DNA tested and confirmed to be Volkovs. My men did the tests themselves and so I know the results are reliable. Anna is your cousin and so you need to accept this. There will be no fighting in this household  **ever** . It doesn’t matter what issues you all have with each other outside of this home, but while you’re here this is a neutral zone. You’re family, and in this house you will act like it.”

Michael had his teeth clenched tightly, but he remained silent. Mikhael glared at him for a moment and then rested a hand on Carmen’s shoulder.

“This is Anna, your younger cousin. She is the daughter of Alexandria and she is twenty years old.”

Michael still said nothing, but his glare didn’t lessen at all.

Mikhael then placed a hand on Mime Bomb’s shoulder. “This is your younger cousin Yuri. He is the son of Alexei and is twenty-two years old.”

Michael’s gaze flicked to Mime Bomb briefly but there was no recognition in his eyes.

Mikhael then motioned towards Otterman. “And finally, this is your older cousin Sven. He is the son of Maxim and is thirty-three years old.”

Michael turned his gaze to Otterman and slowly looked him up and down. His eyes then narrowed.

“If he’s the son of the former heir, and he’s also older than me, does that mean you’ve had me replaced as the heir to Volkov?”

Michael’s tone of voice was dangerous, and Mikhael could see a storm brewing.

“I never said you were the heir to begin with,” Mikhael pointed out.

Michael instantly bristled. “But-”

“I haven’t decided who I’m going to choose as my heir,” Mikhael admitted, “I’m not going to choose the eldest of you simply because of age, I’m going to make my decision based on your own personal merits.”

Michael knew that didn’t bode well for him, and he narrowed his eyes at Otterman.

“I bet I could beat you up,” Michael pointed out, “You look like a wimp.”

“You think you can beat  **me** up too?” Moose Boy demanded in a light tone of voice, “Because if you lay a finger on Sven, then you’ll have  **me** to deal with!”

Michael stared at Moose Boy and knew just by looking at him that the other man would annihilate him in a fight.

“I understand that you had issues with both Anna and Yuri in the past and we will be making this right,” Mikhael said firmly, “You did reprehensible things to Yuri and you’re going to make this up to him.”

“What are you talking about?” Michael demanded, “I’ve never met that ginger twink in my entire life! I didn’t do  **anything** to him!”

“Do  **not** lie to me,” Mikhael said angrily, “I saw the scars that cover the boy’s entire body. You tortured him, and this behaviour is disgusting and beneath you. You are going to apologize to your cousin and you’re going to mean it!”

Michael was completely flabbergasted. “I swear I have no idea who this is! I’ve only ever tortured one person and it was some freak of nature clown…”

Michael trailed off and he turned his gaze back to Mime Bomb and really looked at him. He stared at the boy’s red hair, and the hate-filled blue eyes that were glaring back at him. Michael’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You’re the clown!” he exclaimed.

Mime Bomb maintained direct eye-contact and he slowly nodded. Michael gaped and his eyes were incredibly wide as he stared back. The mime that Vess needed to complete his experiments was sitting right here at the same table as him. He’d be able to provide Vess with the key to solving all his problems, and all he needed to do was tell Vess where he was. 

Michael swallowed heavily and remained silent as he and Mime Bomb stared at each other. The clown was his cousin....he needed to betray his own family to give Vess what he wanted.

Michael frowned. He didn’t even know Mime Bomb and so why would he care if he gave him up? 

“Apologize to your cousin,” Mikhael ordered, “I want him to know that nothing like this will  **ever** happen to him again!”

Michael remained silent. He needed to call Vess. He needed to tell him where the clown was before it was too late.

“Michael,” Mikhael said, raising his voice slightly, “I told you to apologize to your cousin. You two are going to mend things between you. You were the one in the wrong and you need to make things right.”

“Yeah, I tortured him a little bit, but he shot me and then tried to put a bullet between my eyes! I’d say we’re even.”

“You traumatized him and then told him you were going to torture him again!” Carmen snarled, “He thought he was defending his own life! You have no idea what he’s been through because of you!”

Michael rolled his eyes. “It didn’t even hurt him that much! He never made a single sound the whole time. I just made a few cuts and beat him up a little.”

Carmen slammed a fist to the table and got to her feet. “He can’t speak!” she roared at him, “Yuri is mute! He couldn’t scream or beg you to stop! You nearly killed him, you monster!”

Michael glanced over at Mime Bomb in surprise, not once considering this possibility.

“Huh.”

“Michael, you will apologize and make this right,” Mikhael ordered, “We’re all family and we need to work through this together. There will be no fighting in this house, understood? You’re going to get along with your cousins and you’re going to somehow make amends to him!”

Michael said nothing, simply glaring at the mime.

“Apologize,” Mikahel ordered again.

Michael still remained silent. If he betrayed the Volkovs and handed over his cousin to Vess, he would likely be disowned. The Volkovs had been nothing but kind to him ever since he met them, and he was honestly incredibly attached to his grandparents. He’d lived with them for three years when he was a kid, and he loved them more than his parents. 

If he left his cousin alone and kept this a secret, he’d be betraying Vess, but if he allowed Mime Bomb to be taken then he was betraying his blood family. 

Michael slowly looked down at his engagement ring and he twisted it as he thought about it. Vess was his family now, he had to show his loyalty to his future husband instead of a cousin he didn’t even know.

“Michael, I won’t tell you again,” Mikhael warned.

“I’m getting married,” Michael slowly responded.

“What?!” Mikhael exclaimed.

Michael held up his hand with his engagement ring. “Numa proposed to me and we’re getting married in two weeks.”

Michael reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a slightly crumpled invitation. “I wanted to tell you in person. You and gran are both invited to the ceremony.”

“Is this some sort of joke?!” Mikhael roared in pure fury.

“What? No!” Michael cried back, “I love him and he’s going to be my husband!”

“Over my dead body,” Mikhael snarled, “You are  **not** marrying that man!”

“Of course I am!” Michael yelled, getting to his feet angrily.

“No, you’re  **not** ,” Mikhael said with finality, “I knew it was a mistake trusting you anywhere near V.I.L.E. That disgusting man has corrupted you, and I’m not allowing him to completely ruin you!”

“Don’t you talk about him like that!” Michael yelled, slamming a fist to the table, “I don’t care if you approve or not! I’m marrying him and there’s not a fucking thing you can do about it! If you don’t like Numa, then don’t come to our wedding.”

“There will be no wedding!” Mikhael snarled, “I’m putting my foot down and you’re through with V.I.L.E! I’m not allowing you to return to that lab, and you’re never seeing that man again! I should have put a stop to this years ago!”

“You can’t stop me!” Michael yelled out, turning red with anger.

“Effective immediately, security is keeping you inside this manor. You will  **never ** be seeing that man again!”

Michael knew how secure the manor was and he’d stand no chance at escaping if his grandfather wanted to keep him there. 

“YOU CAN’T DO THIS!” Michael screeched, sweeping his dinner off the table and sending it crashing to the floor. “YOU WON’T STOP ME!”

“Michael, leave this room  **immediately** until you calm down,” Mikhael ordered angrily, “We will discuss this later. Go to your room!”

Michael stood there seething for a moment and then he threw his glass of water directly at his grandfather.

“I FUCKING HATE YOU!” Michael screamed, “I HATE YOU!”

He then fled the room as Mikhael wiped the water from his face. His gaze was hard and he spoke with his wife lowly for a few minutes who nodded and got up to leave the room.

“...well, that was interesting,” Carmen commented.

“My apologies for Michael’s behaviour,” Mikhael replied with a deep sigh, “We thought if we gave him a bit of independence, he would flourish, but clearly this was a mistake. Doctor Vesalius is an absolute monster, and I had no idea their...relationship was this serious.”

“What can you tell us of Doctor Vesalius?” Carmen asked.

“Why?” Mikhael asked, giving her a somewhat suspicious look.

“My team as well as several others will be taking down Doctor Vesalius’ lab. We know the terrible things he’s been doing there and we want the lab destroyed and Vess put behind bars where he’ll spend the rest of his life.”

“Volkov tried several times to take down the lab but we were unsuccessful,” Mikhael informed her, “Their defenses are strong, and you won’t stand a chance.”

“It’s not just us,” Carmen assured him, “My team, Sven’s team, as well as The Void will be assisting us.”

Mikhael’s eyes widened. “The Void?!”

It was Otterman who nodded. “The Void are going all in to help us take them down. Aunt Alexandria and Uncle Dmtry are going to do everything they can.”

Mikhael sat straight up in his seat. “My children are still alive?!” he cried out, “My Alexandria and Dmtry live?!”

Otterman nodded.

“Why haven’t they contacted me?!” Mikhael demanded, “I thought they were both dead!”

“Uncle Dmitry witnessed the death of Alexei and it severely affected him. He’s still dealing with the trauma and Alexandria believes you want nothing to do with her.”

“Everything has changed and I want her back!” Mikhael protested, “We were fools, and I want to see my children! Please provide me with their contact information.”

Otterman shook his head taking everyone by surprise.

“No, they are victims of abuse by your hands and I will not tell you where they are. I will instead pass along a message and leave it up for them to reach out first.”

Mikhael wanted to argue but he knew Otterman was right. He had been far too hard on his children and because of this he had lost them all. He regretted everything and just wanted to make things right.

“If you’re taking on Vess’ lab then Volkov will help you as well,” Mikhael informed them, “I will arrange a large group of men to assist you in the attack.”

“We’ll accept any help we can get,” Carmen said gratefully, “I don’t want Michael knowing about this or he will definitely try to warn Vess before we attack.”

“Michael will be kept under close observation,” Mikhael promised, “I’m going to take away all his electronics so he can’t contact Doctor Vesalius. Effective immediately, Michael is on house arrest.”

“What can you tell us about Vess?” Carmen asked for the second time.

Mikhael let out a weary sigh. “Numa Quederi was a child genius who had a passion for surgery. His exceptional mind made him stand out among his classmates in Yemen, and he was sent to study in Saudi Arabia. He was awarded a full scholarship at the top medical school at the age of 14, and he graduated and became a surgeon at the age of twenty-one. Volkov snatched him up without hesitation as soon as he graduated, and he had a lot of potential.”

“Did Volkov know what he was doing at the labs?” Carmen demanded.

“Of course not,” Mikhael replied, “Control had been turned over to Maxim by this time and Annika and I believed we could trust him. Maxim had Vess assist with the initial experiments, but he wasn’t the lead doctor on the project. Maxim gifted Vess to V.I.L.E in an attempt to win favours, but V.I.L.E betrayed him and took the lab. Vess worked at V.I.L.E academy as their doctor until the day The Void raided the lab to save Yuri. All the research was destroyed and Vess was the only doctor left alive. He was transferred back to the lab and from my understanding, he has been trying to replicate the experiments.”

Mikhael let out another heavy sigh. “That lab is a stain on Volkov’s reputation, and I’ve been trying to destroy it for years. Michael had an opportunity to sneak his way into V.I.L.E to help us, but he squandered it like a fool. Vess corrupted my grandson, and I worry what sort of damage he’s done to him.”

“Don’t worry, Vess won’t be able to hurt anyone ever again,” Carmen assured him, “I’ll fill you in on everything so far.”

Mikhael nodded. “Tell me everything.”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Michael smashed everything he could get his hands on in his bedroom and when he had nothing left to break, he drove his fists into his pillow over and over again. How could they do this to him?! He thought his grandparents would be supportive of him, but they had betrayed him.

Michael let out a wordless scream and hit the pillow hard enough to burst it in a shower of down. Out of breath from his rampage, Michael flopped down on his bed and felt tears blur his vision. There were security guards all through the house and he was willing to bet that Mikhael had ordered several to stand in the hallway outside his room. Michael wasn’t a talented fighter and he wasn’t particularly strong. If his grandparents wanted to keep him hostage then there was nothing he could do about it. 

Michael swiped a hand over his eyes, and couldn’t stop the hatred he felt towards Mikhael for this. The man was making him choose between his family and Vess, and to Michael there  **was** no choice. He would call Vess and tell him everything, and Vess would come for him.

Michael knew after today he would likely never see his family again, but Michael was confident he’d be alright. All he needed was Vess and he’d be able to withstand anything.

Michael reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone. He dialed Vess’ number and then waited. It rang about ten times and Michael began to get agitated when there was no answer. Vess was probably focused on his research and didn’t even hear it. Michael called him over and over and finally Vess picked up.

“Now’s not a good time, Michael, I’m in the middle of-”

“I need to be rescued,” Michael informed him.

Vess went silent for a moment. “What happened?”

“I told my grandparents I was marrying you and now they’re refusing to allow me to return to the lab.”

“Dammit, Michael, I told you that wasn’t a good idea! You  **never** listen to a single thing I say!”

“I found the clown,” Michael quickly said, changing the subject.

Vess went silent again. 

“I found him, Numa, he’s here in the Volkov manor.”

“Are you certain?” Vess asked, his tone sounding somewhat desperate.

“Yes, apparently he’s my cousin Yuri, and my grandparents are trying to protect him. He’s here right now in the manor just downstairs.”

“...what sort of protection is at the manor?” Vess demanded.

“Dozens of armed guards, bullet-proof window shutters, and a fifteen foot tall concrete wall.”

“That is less than ideal…” Vess responded thoughtfully, “Is there any chance you can lure the mime out of the house?”

“Not a chance in hell,” Michael answered, “I tortured the fucker so he’s not exactly my best friend at the moment.”

“Alright, don’t worry about it,” Vess assured him, “I’m coming for you.”

Michael smiled. “I love you, Numa.”

“My men will be there soon.”

The call disconnected, and Michael frowned down at it before rolling his eyes. Vess was finally going to be able to finish his experiments, and they would finally be happy. 

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**The next chapter will not be posted as fast as the last few as I've been really slow writing lately. I'm going to aim to have it done in 2 weeks, but I can't guarantee it. Only 2 chapters left of Broken. I'm going to do my best to finish before Christmas! :D**

**Violetfic did the awesome pics of Matryoska/Chief, Mime Bomb/Plague Doctor and MJ/Carmen!**

**Coulrosaurus did the awesome pic of Otterman holding Findus!**

.

**Credit for the names of Otterman and Moose Boy go to Animedemon01**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**

**Please don't forget to let me know what you think! **


	40. The Beginning of the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone!
> 
> Only ONE chapter left of Broken now! WOOT! WOOT! I'm aiming to post the next chapter on the 31st as a late Christmas present to my readers! 
> 
> An enormous thank you to the very awesome Violetfic and Coulrosaurus for offering plenty of good suggestions, and for being my betas! They both seriously offered SO many suggestions for this fic that they both deserve some recognition! You guys really helped improve this story a lot and you're awesome!
> 
> Please note that Dr. Vess and Michael Jr. both use the F-word extremely frequently in their everyday speech. You have been warned. Dr. Vess was created by Violetfic, and I am using him with her permission.
> 
> If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 40**

**The Beginning of the End**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Siren knew there was something seriously wrong with him. It took him three days to recover from his confused state, and he’d missed countless messages from Player. He had never been more glad for Terry. Although it was extremely embarrassing to have been taken care of like a child, he was still grateful for it. Terry had been extremely kind and patient with him the entire three days and he hadn’t left his side once. He remembered every moment of his confused state and was mortified that he had clung onto Vess and put himself into such a vulnerable situation. 

The moment Siren was in his right mind, he immediately called Player but he didn’t know how to explain what was wrong with him. How could they possibly trust him to help knowing that his mind was unreliable? He simply explained that he’d been sick and hadn’t been able to reach out before this moment. Player knew he was lying, and the boy was immediately suspicious. He probed a bit but when Siren wouldn’t talk to him about it, he reduced the amount of information he was sharing with him.

Player didn’t press him on it any further, and instead the boy had informed him there were going to be additional teams taking part in the raid. Siren listened to the plans Player had come up with, offered his own advice on the subject and they’d begun brainstorming different strategies for the raid. Player refused to tell him who the other teams were and while it frustrated Siren, he accepted it.

Feeling incredibly vindictive, Siren suggested they take down the lab on Valentine’s Day, the day of Michael and Vess’ wedding. Everyone’s guard was going to be down that day and he guaranteed Vess was going to be distracted and likely stressed out. The gate for the lab was going to be kept open from 2pm-4pm since there would be so many employees passing through due to the wedding.

Player agreed this was the best time to attack and so they began making their plans around February 14th. Player tried to subtly inquire about Siren’s illness several times, but Siren just brushed him off and insisted he was fine now.

Siren soon became aware that Michael had been invited to the Volkov manor to visit his grandparents for February 1st and was looking forward to the break. Normally Michael visited his grandparents almost monthly, but because of everything that had been happening, it had been months since his last visit. Siren knew Team Red had something of their own going on during that time, but Player refused to share what it was. 

Frustrated, Siren knew he couldn’t blame the distrust, but he wasn’t willing to talk about the brain damage he’d suffered at the hands of Vess. Having no choice, Siren was kept in the dark about almost everything about the upcoming attack.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Michael glanced up when there was a knock at his door, but he scowled and rolled away to face the wall. There was a second, slightly louder knock, but he still didn’t reply. He heard his door open, and then the sound of Annika tutting in disapproval over the mess he’d made of his room. He didn’t turn to look at her, too angry to say anything. He was certain Vess would be here for him soon, and he had no desire to be scolded like a disobedient child. 

“Michael?” Annika questioned.

Michael stubbornly refused to look at her and a moment later he felt a weight settle beside him on the bed. His grandmother gently ran her fingers through his hair like she had done hundreds of times before, simply offering him a bit of silent comfort. Michael finally glanced over his shoulder at her, and her expression didn’t look angry, but instead worried. He saw she had brought him a plate of food, and he heaved a deep sigh.

“I’m not hungry.”

Annika gave him a worried look and set the food aside on his night table. She continued petting his hair silently, and Michael found his anger starting to recede a little bit.

“Michael?”

He looked over his shoulder again. He watched as she reached into her apron pocket and pulled something out. Annika held a piece of paper out towards him, and Michael saw it was the wedding invitation. He quickly looked away again.

“Michael,” Annika said gently, “Hам нужно поговорить.”

“Go away,” Michael ordered angrily, “Get the **hell** away from me!”

Annika didn’t leave and simply rested a hand on his side, causing him to tense up. She didn’t scold him however like he was expecting, she simply sat beside him silently. Finally he glanced over his shoulder at her again.

“You are loved, Michael,” she said, her voice heavily accented, “but...no, not this man. Bad. Bad for you.”

Michael’s expression darkened and he immediately lost control of his temper again. “I **hate** you!” he snarled out viciously.

Annika looked like he’d slapped her across the face, and tears immediately began welling in her eyes. Michael’s anger abated somewhat, and he averted his gaze.

“Я не это имел в виду,” he apologized sullenly, “I didn’t mean that.”

Annika was silent for a long time, and Michael wondered if he’d finally pushed her too far. His grandparents had tolerated a lot of disrespect and awful behaviour from him over the years, but he’d never once said something like that.

“Что вы хотите?” Annika finally asked him.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Michael responded, “Я не понимаю.”

Annika still looked incredibly upset and Michael regretted looking at her. He was betraying her and the rest of the Volkovs, but Vess was worth it. He was going to spend the rest of his life with Vess.

“What…” Annika paused as she tried to think of the English words, “What do you want, Michael? No Vesalius. No bad man.”

Michael scowled and glared at the wall. Vess had been right; there was no way his grandparents were ever going to accept this marriage. He never should have brought it up. He should have just eloped without ever telling them.

“Что вы хотите?” Annika repeated.

Michael continued glaring sullenly at the wall.

“I want a tiger.”

Annika paused for a moment, clearly confused.

“Что хочу тигра,” Michael repeated.

“Я хочу тигра,” Annika replied, gently correcting his grammar.

Michael scowled. Russian was too hard and he was always getting it wrong. “Fine, Я хочу тигра!” he repeated angrily.

“Нет,” Annika told him firmly, “No tiger.”

Michael could feel himself losing his temper again and didn’t want to take it out on her. This house was stifling and there was no future for him here. No Vess, no tiger, and no freedom. All his grandparents cared about was making him study and making him follow their rules. He couldn’t have anything he wanted while trapped in this manor. 

He couldn’t wait for Vess to come rescue him.

“Go away,” Michael ordered, “I want to be alone.”

Annika patted him on the head sadly and he felt her get up to leave. 

“I love you, Michael,” Annika told him gently, “Я тебя люблю.”

Once she was gone, Michael drove his fist into the mattress, hating the fact his grandparents were so selfish. He didn’t ask for much, all he wanted was their support in his marriage and they couldn’t even give **that** to him.

Michael glanced over at the plate of food sitting on his night table and saw his grandmother had included two of his favourite cookies. She had iced smiley faces on each one, and his stomach twisted guiltily. Why were they forcing him to choose? He loved his grandparents, but he loved Vess as well. He honestly felt like he was being torn in half, and it was infuriating. Why did they have to make him choose between them? He’d already cut ties with his parents, and now he was going to lose the last of his blood family.

Michael picked a bit at the supper, but his appetite was gone. He flipped the cookies over so they’d stop smiling at him and then flopped back onto his bed. Vess was going to be here at any time and all he had to do was wait. Michael laid there a long time, and soon there came a knock at the door. He ignored it and rolled over so he was facing the wall.

The door opened and he scowled at the intrusion.

“Michael? Mikhael questioned, “I would like to talk to you for a few minutes.”

Michael closed his eyes and didn’t move.

“Look what you’ve done to your room!” Mikhael scolded, “You’re cleaning this up! The servants are **not** cleaning up after your temper tantrum!”

Michael still said nothing.

“Michael?”

When he still didn’t answer, Mikhael made his way over to him, his cane thumping along the floor as he approached. He felt a hand on his arm, but Michael kept his eyes closed and didn’t move.

“Michael?” Mikahel said softly, shaking him gently.

Michael ignored him, pretending to be asleep.

Mikhael let out a deep, resigned-sounding sigh, and then patted his grandson on the head before turning to leave the room.

“...I don’t know what I’m going to do with you,” Mikhael whispered quietly, “I don’t know how I can help you anymore.”

Michael gave no indication he heard and a moment later, his grandfather left the room.

“Hurry up, Numa,” Michael muttered, “Get me out of this hellhole.”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The mood had been soured by Michael’s unwanted presence in the manor, and Mime Bomb was anxious and angry. It was better now that Michael wasn’t in the room, but just knowing he was in the same house had him on edge. Mime Bomb found his gaze wandering to the door and he couldn’t concentrate on what Mikhael was saying as they went through their plans.

Mime Bomb raised a hand to his chest, remembering the pain of being sliced open and he grimaced. He remembered the smell of his own blood and the putrid smell of stale cigarettes and Michael’s manic expression came to his mind. Michael had slashed and beaten him like he was taking out his anger on him, and he remembered the fury in the other boy’s eyes. Mime Bomb felt himself begin to shake and he nearly jumped a mile when someone gently took him by the hand. He glanced at his grandmother in the seat next to him and she gave him a worried smile. Mime Bomb didn’t return the smile and he couldn’t seem to stop shaking. To his surprise, she pulled him down into a hug and she held him tightly, his forehead resting against her shoulder. Mime Bomb allowed the hug and he closed his eyes in an attempt to calm himself down. His grandmother smelled like cinnamon and gunpowder, and Mime Bomb tried to force his thoughts away from Michael.

When Mime Bomb finally stopped shaking, he gently pulled away and he saw everyone was giving him concerned looks. Carmen reached out and took one of his hands.

“You alright?” she whispered quietly.

Mime Bomb took a deep breath and nodded.

“I’m sorry for what Michael has done to you,” Mikhael said sadly, “We’ve tried our best with him, but he only lived with us for three years and that wasn’t enough time to undo the damage caused by the Finnegans.”

“There’s too much wrong with Michael to fix,” Carmen responded, “It’s not your fault. He’s done unspeakable things and he deserves to pay the price for it.”

Mikhael’s expression was deeply troubled. “Michael saw things no child ever should have witnessed when he was young, and we likely don’t know the half of it. I’m not trying to make excuses for him, but I’m hoping you can have a little understanding. Michael is damaged, and we’re doing our best to help him. Vess fed into Michael’s issues and we didn’t realize just how much that monster was influencing him. We never should have let him leave home. Michael is **never** stepping foot near that lab ever again.”

Mime Bomb wasn’t ready to hear any of this. His trauma still felt raw and it seemed like Mikhael was trying to excuse Michael’s behaviour. In his mind there was no excuse for what that monster did to him. Michael made his own decisions and he’d harmed a lot of people. 

“Yuri has been through a lot and I think it’s best if he and Michael avoid each other for the time being,” Carmen replied, “Michael belongs in prison for what he’s done, and I wish you’d stop defending him.”

Mikhael shook his head. “I will not allow any of my grandchildren to rot in prison. Michael is young and he’s made a lot of terrible choices, but I refuse to give up on him. I would do the same for each and every one of you.”

Mime Bomb squeezed Carmen’s hand tightly and she gave him a worried look.

“Do you need to leave?” she whispered softly.

Mime Bomb nodded, feeling like he was about to have another anxiety attack. Carmen nodded in understanding, gave him a worried look, and then got to her feet.

“I think Yuri’s a bit overwhelmed and we should take things slow. We’re going to head back to our hotel to unwind.”

“I’ve prepared rooms for you here,” Mikhael told them, also getting to his feet.

Mime Bomb immediately began shaking his head, the thought of sleeping anywhere close to Michael absolutely terrifying.

“No, that’s alright,” Carmen responded, “I think we need to take things slower than that. A night away will give us a chance to clear our heads.”

Mikahel frowned and a worried look entered his eyes. “You’ll come back, won’t you?”

Carmen nodded. “Of course, we’ll be back tomorrow. I want to get to know my family, and we’ll see how things go.”

Mikhael didn’t look happy over this but he nodded all the same. He then turned his gaze to Otterman. “Are you staying here tonight?”

Otterman nodded. “Yes, if that’s alright with you.”

“Excellent,” Mikhael said, “Annika will be very pleased!”

Carmen and Mime Bomb stood to their feet and turned towards the door.

“Make sure to wish your grandmother a goodnight,” Mikhael requested, “She’s been so happy since you’ve come into our lives.”

Mime Bomb gave his grandmother a hesitant hug, and Carmen did the same. Annika spoke to them both with a large smile, and then she gave each of them a kiss on the forehead.

“Are you going to be alright, Sven?” Carmen asked, turning to her cousin.

Otterman ran his fingers through Findus’ fur and nodded. “Yes, I think we’ll be fine,” he replied, “Henrik is going to stay with me.”

Carmen returned his nod and then very awkwardly gave Mikhael a hug which he returned.

“So beautiful,” Mikhael complimented her, pulling Mime Bomb in for a hug, “What time can we expect you tomorrow?”

“If Yuri is feeling better, we’ll try to be here by around lunchtime.”

Mikhael nodded.

Mime Bomb and Carmen waved their goodbyes and then headed for the door. Otterman remained seated and he switched over to Russian now that his cousins were gone. He chatted about several missions he’d been on and they asked him seemingly endless questions about his life. He still avoided the topic of his parents, and to their credit, they didn’t press him. Moose Boy had no idea what anyone was saying and so he lightly dozed for a while without complaint.

It was quite late when finally Mikhael announced he was tired, and so everyone bid each other goodnight, and Sebastian entered to take Otterman to his room. Moose Boy was practically sleepwalking at this point and followed behind them silently, just wanting to go to bed.

“This room is for you, Master Sven,” Sebastian said, pointing to a door, “And this room is for your...Henrik.”

“It’s fine, we can share a room,” Otterman informed him.

“I have orders that you each get your own rooms,” Sebastian replied.

Otterman narrowed his eyes. “Oh?”

“Henrik is your fiancé, correct?” Sebastian demanded.

“That’s right,” Otterman replied, already getting defensive.

“Well, you’re not a married couple yet and Mr. Volkov is an old fashioned man. He set aside separate rooms for you.”

“...we’ve been together for nearly fifteen years,” Otterman pointed out.

“That is none of my concern,” Sebastian replied, “I just follow orders.”

“Oh, this is ridiculous,” Otterman complained, “What is this, 1792? Common Law is perfectly acceptable.”

“Take it up with your grandfather,” Sebastian replied curtly, “I am now off-duty.”

With that, Sebastian turned and walked away without a word. Otterman frowned after him and then opened the door to his room. In it was a single bed. Frowning, he opened Moose Boy’s door and saw he was given a single bed as well. The message was **very** clear. ‘Not in my house.’ Otterman narrowed his eyes and refused to allow himself to be controlled like that. Taking Moose Boy by the hand, he pulled him into his bedroom with him. He had every intention of sleeping next to his fiancé whether it was crowded or not.

It took a lot of shifting around on the tiny bed, but eventually they both found a comfortable position and Otterman fell asleep sprawled on top of his partner.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Michael jerked awake when there was a knock at his door. Rubbing at his eyes tiredly, he noticed the sun was up, and he was incredibly stiff from sleeping in an awkward position. Confused, he glanced around before remembering where he was. He was at his grandparents’ and there was still no sign of Vess. 

Another loud knock came at the door and Michael glowered unhappily. Where was Vess? Why didn’t he come for him? What time was it?!

A third knock came which he ignored.

“Master Michael, breakfast has already been served and you’re late!”

Michael scowled at the sound of Sebastian’s voice.

“Your grandfather has requested that you be up and dressed within ten minutes. If you are not downstairs within that time, he will be coming up to fetch you!”

“Fuck off, penguin!” Michael snarled.

“Good, you’re awake,” Sebastian replied, “I’ll inform your grandparents you’ll be downstairs momentarily.”

Michael muttered a few curses under his breath and then ran a hand through his hair. Reaching for his com to call Vess, he discovered it was gone from his night stand. Glancing all around in alarm, he shook out his sheets and then looked under the bed. Not only was his phone gone, but so was any other electronic in his room. Michael slammed a fist into the wall in fury and then let out a curse at the pain. Shaking out his hand, he knew someone had snuck in and taken his stuff during the night. There was no way for him to contact Vess.

Michael kicked over the nightstand and then took a deep breath to calm himself down. Vess would come for him and he just had to trust him to be here soon. His stomach gave a loud growl and Michael was reminded that he had missed supper the night before. Hoping he wouldn’t have to deal with a lecture from his grandparents, he left his room and headed down the stairs. When he entered the dining room, he was met with the sight of his grandparents and one of his cousins seated at the table. Michael saw it was the thin geeky cousin but he couldn’t recall his name.

“Michael, you’re late,” Mikahel scolded, “Breakfast is at seven and it is now half past.”

Michael didn’t say a word and simply took a seat across from Otterman. As he poured himself a tall glass of orange juice, a servant entered with a tray. A steaming bowl of porridge was placed in front of him and he grimaced at it.

“Porridge?” he complained, “You know I hate porridge!”

“Well, if you had been up on time, you would’ve been able to have bacon and eggs with your porridge with the rest of us, but you overslept. The cook only makes **one** breakfast a day, and so porridge is all that’s left.”

Michael was annoyed but he didn’t comment, not wanting to start a fight just yet. He had to play nice for a while until Vess made his move. Without a word he reached for the honey and poured an obscene amount on his porridge and then tossed a handful of blackberries on top. He got two bites in before Mikhael cleared his throat loudly. Michael glanced up at him and could see the obvious disapproval in the other man’s eyes.

“You’re wearing the same clothes from last night,” Mikhael pointed out, “You and I are going to be having a very long discussion about the way you behaved last night. You were incredibly rude and disrespectful to your cousins as well as your elders.”

Michael said nothing and simply took another bite of his porridge. He had absolutely no reason to care what either of his grandparents had to say. Soon he would be gone and would never have to see them again.

“We never really had a proper chance to meet,” Otterman suddenly said, “My name is Sven and it’s good to meet you, Michael.”

Otterman extended his hand to shake and Michael stared at him for a long moment before accepting the handshake. 

“I know that Carmen and Yuri had a few bad experiences with you, but we’ve never met and I’d like to form my own opinion on you without jumping to conclusions,” Otterman explained, “Would you consider a truce with me?”

Michael said nothing and simply went back to his breakfast, glowering down into his porridge. 

“Michael,” Mikhael scolded.

“Fine,” Michael responded without looking up.

Michael honestly didn’t care whether Otterman liked him or not. The Volkovs were nothing to him, and he’d likely never see him again after today. If Otterman wanted to be the Volkov heir, then he didn’t care.

“What sort of things do you like to do?” Otterman asked, undeterred by the unfriendly demeanor, “Do you have any hobbies?”

Michael gave a shrug.

“He likes to paint,” Mikhael said proudly, “He’s actually very good!”

“Oh, nice!” Otterman said, keeping his tone friendly, “I’d love to see some of your work if you don’t mind.”

Michael glanced up and then squinted at Otterman. “Yeah...maybe.” he said reluctantly, “Where’s everyone else?”

“Yuri and Carmen are coming back after lunch,” Otterman replied, “They spent the night at their hotel.”

Michael gave a nod, glad that Vess hadn’t already taken Mime Bomb. Vess was likely coming up with a plan and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He just had to be patient and trust Vess.

“Would you be willing to show me around the manor?” Otterman asked, clearly trying hard to be nice.

“Why?” Michael demanded, “That’s what servants are for.”

“Don’t be rude,” Mikhael scolded, “Of course he’ll show you around, Sven. Michael has plenty of time.”

Michael glared at his grandfather but said nothing, simply finishing his orange juice. Pushing his bowl aside, he got up from the table and was annoyed when Otterman did the same.

“What?” Michael demanded, “You mean right now?”

Otterman’s expression instantly turned uncertain. “Oh...I mean, not if you don’t want to…”

“Michael, go spend some time with your cousin and be nice. You and I are still going to have that chat later after I take care of some business.”

Michael heaved a sigh and glared at Otterman but still motioned for him to follow. Moose Boy hung back as the two cousins walked together and it was clear Michael wasn’t very happy. As they walked down the hall, Michael began pointing at various things as they passed.

“Boring shit. More boring shit. Slightly less boring shit, that’s a bathroom.”

“MJ?”

Michael glanced over at him impatiently “What?”

“I’m sorry for what happened last night. They shouldn’t have sprung that on you without warning. They should have told you we were going to be there so you could have prepared for it. You were blindsided by two people who used to be your enemies and that’s not right. I understand there’s a lot of bad blood between you three, and I understand things aren’t going to be easy.”

“They still are my enemies!” Michael snapped, “I refuse to believe they’re related to me!”

“I can understand more than you know,” Otterman informed him, “I didn’t grow up in the best home either and it took me a **very** long time to overcome it. I understand the anger, and I understand the fear.”

“Excuse me?!” Michael roared, “You don’t know anything about me!”

Otterman gave a slow nod of acknowledgement. “That’s true, but you also don’t know any of **us**. We’re not here to hurt you, or to take anything away from you. We all just want to get to know our family.”

Michael narrowed his eyes. “Listen, nerd, I don’t want to be your friend and I certainly don’t give a shit about the clown and ginger-bitch.”

Otterman frowned at him and then stroked Findus as he tried to think of a way to respond to that. Michael squinted at the cat and then crossed his arms.

“What’s with the cat?”

Otterman smiled and scratched the cat behind the ears. “This is Findus, she’s my emotional support animal. She comes with me everywhere I go.”

“Cats are gay,” Michael responded, “Real men get impressive pets...like tigers or something.”

Otterman rolled his eyes. “A tiger’s rather impractical for city living,” he responded.

“Oh what do you know, four-eyes? You’re just too much of a pussy to have one!”

“Indeed…” Otterman stated, regretting bringing the topic up.

“You’re part of Carmen Sandiego’s team too?” Michael demanded.

Otterman shook his head. “No, my team are actually their enemy,” he answered, “We have a truce to deal with family matters, but we’re still on opposite sides.”

Michael wasn’t expecting this and he narrowed his eyes. “Then you’re with V.I.L.E?”

Again Otterman shook his head. “No, my team is independent, similar to The Void.”

“Who cares if they’re family!” Michael snapped, “They’re your enemies so why haven’t you killed them?”

Otterman stared at him for a moment and realized Michael really didn’t understand. “Just because we disagree about certain issues, doesn’t mean we can’t set aside our differences when it comes to family. Although they’re both my enemies, they’re both incredibly kind and gentle people. If you just gave them a chance, you’d see this for yourself.”

Michael felt his temper flare. “I’m loyal to only one man, and I will **never** be friends with **any** of you!” he snarled, “I’m only talking to you right now because I have no other choice!”

“MJ, come on, don’t be like that-”

Otterman cut off when Michael suddenly snatched Findus out of his arms, holding her by the scruff of the neck.

“Let her go!” Otterman cried out in horror, “You’re going to hurt her!”

Seeing Otterman’s fear and desperation made Michael feel like he was finally in control, and all of his anger and frustrations returned. He wanted someone else to hurt, and he wanted to see their misery. His grip tightened on the cat.

“I could snap her neck right now if I wanted to!” Michael taunted him, “Maybe then you’d get a less embarrassing pet!”

“STOP IT!” Otterman roared, reaching for Findus.

Michael shoved Otterman to the floor and squeezed the cat, Findus letting out a small cry of pain. 

“NO!”

Two things suddenly happened in quick succession. The first was Moose Boy plowing Michael directly in the face with his fist, and the second was Findus lashing out with her claws. Michael dropped the cat to the floor and then clutched at his face in surprise, four deep scratches on one of his arms. Before he had time to recover, Moose Boy drove his fist into Michael’s stomach knocking him down to the floor. He then began kicking him as hard as he could and Michael curled in on himself in agony. 

When the kicks stopped, Michael stole a quick glance up at Moose Boy who scowled down at him furiously, preparing to punch him again.

“W-wait!” Michael cried out, “I wasn’t really going to hurt the cat! I was just messing around!”

“If you weren't Sven's cousin, I would crush your skull with my bare hands!” Moose Boy snarled.

Otterman had crawled over to Findus who immediately jumped back into his arms for protection. He checked her all over but luckily she seemed to be alright.

“You just hurt a little kitten!” Otterman yelled at him, “A kitten wearing a **sweater**! What the hell is the matter with you?!”

“Sven was being nice to you!” Moose Boy snarled, “You are a very nasty person! Everyone loves Sven, but no one likes **you**! Maybe you should think about that!”

Otterman got back to his feet and frowned down at Michael. The defensive position Michael was in showed that he’d been beaten enough times before to instinctively curl into the fetal position. Although Otterman was furious, he had pity for Michael and had a feeling he may have been put through a similar childhood as his own. What had Michael Finnegan Sr.’s reaction been when he found out Michael wasn’t his son? What did he put the boy through?

“You want me to hit him a few more times for you, Sven?” Moose Boy demanded.

Otterman adjusted his glasses and then let out a deep sigh. “No,” he replied, “I think you’ve made your point.”

Michael said nothing and he didn’t move from his defensive position.

“The others told me to stay away from you, MJ, but I didn’t listen. I want to give you a chance to be friends but you’re not making it easy to like you. I’ll give you your space for now, and perhaps next time I visit we can have a civil conversation.”

Otterman hugged Findus tightly and then turned to walk away. Moose Boy glowered down at Michael and then followed after his partner without a word. Michael laid there for several seconds before he finally sat up. Wiping the blood from his face, he glanced down at his scratched arm and scowled.

Damn it! Now he looked like a complete idiot! Everything felt like it was spiraling out of his control, and he got angrier and angrier the more he thought about it. He kicked over an expensive looking vase and then stormed away, just wanting to get away from everyone.

Michael grabbed his jacket and then left the manor, ignoring Sebastian yelling after him. He couldn’t actually leave because of the wall, but the grounds were large enough that he could get away for a while. Wandering into the maze, he pulled a joint out of his pocket and lit it as he glared at everything around him.

The day was incredibly bitter and Michael was already freezing cold, but he was stubborn and not ready to go back inside yet. Michael had walked this maze hundreds of times before and he didn’t even have to think about it as he navigated his way to the center. Brushing the snow from one of the benches, he took a seat and lit a second joint, just trying to relax.

Leaning back and closing his eyes, Michael tried to push all thoughts of the Volkovs out of his mind. He was glad he’d never taken the name Volkov like his grandparents had wanted. They’d nagged him about it for years, but he hadn’t been quite ready to give up his parents. He’d been young and stupid at the time and thought things would someday improve with the Finnegans. Now he was giving up everyone except for Vess. Soon he would even leave his own name behind and become Michael Quederi for the rest of his life. He wasn’t a Finnegan and he wasn’t a Volkov. 

The joint was suddenly snatched from his mouth and he opened his eyes. Annika gave him a scolding look and then took a seat beside him on the bench. She wrapped a thick blanket around his shoulders and then took a long drag from the blunt before she snuffed it out against the bench. Michael stared at her in surprise.

“Did...did you just…?”

Annika said nothing and simply wrapped an arm around him. Michael frowned at her and looked away. They sat in silence for a long time and once again Michael found his anger starting to burn out.

“How did you know I was here?” he finally demanded.

“This where you always smoke,” Annika replied with an easy shrug.

Michael hadn’t realized his grandparents knew he smoked and he frowned at her. “How long have you known?”

“Since you were little boy,” she replied.

Michael wasn’t sure how he felt about this. His grandmother had known he’d been sneaking off to smoke for years and never tattled on him? Michael gave her a pained look and then averted his gaze.

“Aren’t you cold?” he demanded.

“Нет.”

Michael knew that Annika spoke better English than even her husband realized and he had a feeling she had learned for his benefit. He’d failed over and over to learn Russian and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t get a grasp on it. The grammar was confusing, and he had trouble rolling his ‘R’s’. 

Michael knew he was stupid, and it was humiliating to know that everyone around him was **always** smarter than him. Being in the same room with Siren and Vess while they were working made him feel like a dumb animal they simply kept around as a pet. He couldn’t understand a single thing they worked on, and Siren was always quick to remind Michael how stupid he was. His whole life everyone called him stupid and he kept failing over and over and over.

Michael raised a hand to his head and let out a deep sigh. Annika didn’t say anything but she patted him on the back, simply keeping him company. Michael had no idea how long they sat there, but eventually Annika took one of his hands and pulled him up to his feet.

“Bремя обеда,” she informed him.

“I’m not hungry,” Michael responded.

“Нет,” Annika said firmly, tightening her grip on his hand, “Bремя обеда.”

Michael let out a deep sigh but allowed her to pull him along behind her as they headed back for the manor. Just as they exited the maze, they saw the front gates opening and a car slowly pulled through.

“Oh!” Annika exclaimed in delight, “Yuri! Carmen!”

Michael scowled. Great, that’s all he needed right now. The car came to a stop in front of the manor and he saw two redheads exit the car. Rolling his eyes, he sullenly followed behind his grandmother towards them.

Suddenly there was a loud bang and a massive van slammed into the gate before it could close. Everyone froze and turned to stare as dozens of armed men swarmed through the open gate. They headed straight for Mime Bomb and Michael simply stared as both began to fight as if their life depended on it.

“No!!!!” Annika cried out in distress, hurrying towards the fight.

Michael knew she was about to be killed and so he shoved Annika to the ground and then charged straight for the fight. The men turned their guns towards him but they didn’t fire. Carmen and Mime Bomb were quickly overpowered and Carmen was struck hard across the temple. She crumpled to the ground and just as Michael reached them, Mime Bomb turned to look at him. His eyes widened momentarily and then they hardened in pure outrage as he dragged towards one of the vans. Michael scoffed at him and then passed by the men to head for a different van.

As Michael crawled into one of the vans, he glanced back towards Annika and instantly regretted it. Her expression was completely heartbroken and she stared at him with such betrayal that he felt his breath catch in his throat. Turning away, he got in the van and didn’t look back.

Michael had made his choice.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Mime Bomb winced as his arms were twisted behind his back as he was pulled out of the van. When his eyes fell on the lab in front of them, he let out a silent gasp of horror and immediately began struggling as if his life depended on it. The guards twisted his arms even more and Mime Bomb had to still in order to avoid a broken arm. Digging his heels into the snow as he was dragged towards the lab, Mime Bomb felt absolute terror consume him. Every terrible memory he had of this lab flashed through his mind and he felt certain this was where he was going to die. There was nothing he could do, and the guards easily yanked him into the lab.

The walls of the lab were as grey and emotionless as he remembered, and Mime Bomb could feel himself starting to slip into a panic attack. Breathing erratically as his heart felt like it was bursting from his chest, he pulled uselessly against his captors. The hallway felt like it was closing in on him from all sides, and Mime Bomb let out a silent scream of pure terror. He could feel the eyes on him as he was dragged past dozens of armed guards and finally he was tossed in a room by himself. The door was locked and Mime Bomb immediately threw himself at the door to no avail. 

Mime Bomb glanced around himself and when he saw he was in one of the white, soundproofed rooms from his memories, he immediately screamed and screamed silently. Banging his fists against the door, hopelessness weighed on him heavily, and he knew there was no escape. Scrambling away from the door, Mime Bomb pressed himself into one of the corners and made himself as small as possible. The silence was pressing in on him heavily, and he closed his eyes and covered his head with his arms, wishing he could just disappear.

Mime Bomb thought of Team Red and he desperately hoped they were on their way to get him. He couldn’t do this - not again. He would never be able to handle this a second time. It was only twenty minutes later when he heard the door being opened. Looking up, he saw the guards had returned and they immediately approached to seize him again. Just glad to be leaving this room, Mime Bomb didn’t struggle and allowed himself to be dragged back into the hallway.

As he was dragged down the hallway, Mime Bomb could hear soft singing coming from just up ahead. Jerking his head up in surprise, he listened as they walked along, feeling like he recognized the voice. He was forced into one of the labs, and he quickly found the source of the singing. He saw a scientist standing just on the other side of the room, staring out one of the windows. He was singing to himself and seemingly didn’t notice them. There was a guard who stood by the man’s side and he turned to stare as they entered the room.

“Don’t move,” one of Mime Bomb’s guards ordered, “Doctor Vess will be here in a few moments.”

Mime Bomb’s arms were released and he stared at the very short man who still hadn’t looked away from the window. The man was very thin, very unkempt and he ignored everyone as stared through the lab window still singing softly. 

Mime Bomb knew the voice, but the memory was like a distant dream and he couldn’t quite place the man’s face. Mime Bomb stared at him long and hard and when the man finally glanced over at him, Mime Bomb saw the man’s strange green and brown eyes. A memory surfaced of a boy with the same strange eyes and Mime Bomb suddenly knew exactly who this was.

Mime Bomb took a step forward and he let out a shocked gasp. This was Delano, the boy who had helped him all those years ago! He’d survived! He was alright! Mime Bomb had been certain V.I.L.E had killed him and he felt a deep sense of relief and gratitude. He wasn’t alone. He had an ally in this hell. Delano would help him and he’d be able to survive until Team Red came for him.

Unable to stop the enormous smile that came to his lips, Mime Bomb surged forward and threw his arms around the smaller man in a tight hug.

Siren let out a squawk of surprise and then immediately squirmed away from him. He then started slapping at Mime Bomb until he backed away from him.

“What the **hell** are you doing, you Ronald McDonald reject?!” Siren snarled, “Where did you even come from?!”

Mime Bomb was completely taken aback. He reached out a hand towards the other man, but Siren slapped at him again. The guard with Siren gave Mime Bomb a dumbfounded look, but he didn’t seem to be as aggressive as the other guards.

“Fuck off, and don't touch me!” Siren snapped, shoving him hard in the chest, “Like I need any more shit to deal with right now, and now Vess adds a fucking clown to the mix.”

Mime Bomb couldn’t stop the feeling of hurt that came over him as he realized Siren didn’t recognize him. Remembering the other man spoke quite a few languages, he decided to try his luck to see if he understood sign language. He signed asking if Siren knew who he was and Siren scowled at him. To Mime Bomb’s surprise, Siren signed back with several very impolite things and then he pushed past him to head for the door.

“Fucking V.I.L.E operatives,” Siren snarled, shoving Mime Bomb’s guards out of his way.

Still muttering under his breath, Siren stalked away from him and disappeared out the door, the lone guard following along behind him. Mime Bomb felt a crushing disappointment as he was left alone in the room. He had no one to help him.

Mime Bomb took a deep breath and glanced around the room, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He didn’t see any torture devices or knives left out to hurt him, and he hoped it remained that way. Mime Bomb didn’t have to wait long and just a few minutes later the lab doors opened and several doctors entered.

“Why has no one washed that makeup off him yet?” one of the men demanded irritably, “Vesalius is going to be here any moment! Do you really want to put him in a bad mood?”

The two guards instantly grabbed Mime Bomb by the arms and dragged him over to the nearby chemical sink. Turning on the water, they forced his face under the stream of water as he kicked and struggled but they held him in place as they grabbed paper towels to scrub at him. When they released him a moment later he was soaking wet and coughing from nearly being drowned. The doctors gave the guards a very unimpressed look but didn’t comment. Mime Bomb wiped the water out of his face and glowered at the guards who were completely unapologetic. He didn’t really have time to be mad about that for too long because a moment later, the doors were thrown open and Vess stormed into the lab.

Without any hesitation he made his way straight for Mime Bomb and shooed the guards away from him. There was an almost hungry look in Vess’ eerie silver eyes and Mime Bomb instinctively took a step away from him. Vess closed the distance between them and grabbed Mime Bomb by the face, forcing the boy to look directly into his eyes. Mime Bomb’s eyes widened in sudden terror as he stared up at the other man and Vess leaned in closely.

Vess could see the silver starbursts clearly in Mime Bomb’s eyes and he knew he finally had the key to his experiments. Ten long years of hard work were finally going to be worth it. 

“Beautiful, absolutely beautiful,” Vess praised, leaning even closer to Mime Bomb’s eyes, “To think that you were within reach all these years…” 

Vess’ expression twisted into absolute manic glee, and Mime Bomb felt his terror increase tenfold. Vess looked absolutely insane, and he suddenly knew Vess had no intention of letting him live.

“Prep him immediately to be tested,” Vess ordered, not once taking his eyes off the mime, “This entire lab is in lockdown and no one enters or leaves without my permission.”

“Which test room should we use?” one of the doctors asked, “Do you want him kept alive or should we start dismembering?”

Mime Bomb gasped and backed up a step.

“Test room three,” Vess replied, “He is **not** to be harmed whatsoever until I say otherwise. I want you to run all the basic tests and inform me the moment they’re completed.”

“Yes, Doctor Vesalius,” the doctor replied, motioning for the guards.

Mime Bomb was seized by the arms and as he was dragged from the room, he glanced back at Vess. The man was still staring straight at him, his expression predatory and intense. Mime Bomb could see his death lurking in those eyes and he knew Vess was never going to let him go. Team Red were going to have to fight their way to him.

Vess watched them leave and the moment the door closed, he pulled out his com. He could finally tell Doctor Bellum and Professor Maelstrom the good news. The experiment would be completed within a couple weeks. 

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

“You’re sure you don’t know that boy?” Terry demanded.

“I already told you, I have no idea who that was!” Siren snapped, “V.I.L.E is full of weirdos.”

“He seemed to know you,” Terry insisted, “He looked incredibly disappointed.”

“I’m pretty sure I would remember being friends with a mime,” Siren retorted, opening his bedroom door, “I need to contact Team Red, they’ve been sending me emergency messages for an hour now.”

“I just find it strange…” Terry commented, glancing back towards the hallway, “Not many people go out of their way to hug you...no offense.”

“None taken, I’m an asshole,” Siren admitted, “He was probably just a pervert.”

Terry frowned. “Maybe,” he agreed.

Siren took a seat on his bed and reached for his laptop. “Lend me a smoke,” he ordered, not even looking at Terry.

“No, you never pay me back,” Terry responded, crossing his arms, “Buy your own.”

“Vess is pissed at me right now and revoked my cigarette privileges,” Siren replied, “I need something to calm me down.”

“Have you considered chamomile tea?”

Siren gave him a flat look.

Terry sighed and then handed over his pack of smokes. Siren lit one and then pocketed the rest of the box much to Terry’s annoyance. Siren typed in his passwords and then waited as several programs finished opening. Connecting a call to Player, he only had to wait a few seconds before the call was answered.

“Siren!” Player exclaimed in relief, “Finally!”

“What?” Siren demanded, “It’s the middle of the workday and risky for me to be making this call.”

“I’m connecting you over to Carmen right away,” Player responded, “It’s an emergency!”

Siren rolled his eyes and took a deep breath of smoke. His screen went black for a moment and a few seconds later Carmen’s face appeared on his screen.

“Oh, thank god, Siren!” she exclaimed.

“What do you want?” Siren demanded rudely, “It’s risky for me to-”

“We think Vess took Mime Bomb! Is Mime Bomb at the lab right now?”

Siren promptly choked on his lungful of smoke and then stared at Carmen in surprise. 

“Is he there?” Carmen demanded, “Can you go look for him?”

“He’s here,” Siren confirmed with a grimace.

He’d completely forgotten that Team Red had a mime in their ranks since he’d never seen or had any interactions with him.

“I **knew** it was Vess!” Carmen snarled, “MJ betrayed the Volkovs and gave up Mime Bomb to Vess!”

“That’s not really that surprising,” Siren responded, “MJ is a total jackass.”

“Is Mime Bomb safe? Did they hurt him?”

Siren hesitated and then nodded. “Well, for now he is. Why does Vess have Mime Bomb? And what did you mean MJ betrayed the Volkovs? He **is** a Volkov. Is Vess using Mime Bomb to get at you?”

Carmen shook her head. “No, Mime Bomb was one of the original patients at the Volkov labs. He's MJ's cousin Yuri. Vess has been after him for years.”

Siren froze and simply stared at her.

“Mime Bomb's my cousin as well, and we need to get him back! Can you make sure he stays safe until we can get there?”

“You said he was one of the Volkov patients?” Siren asked, “That’s impossible! All the patients died in the fire except for…”

Siren’s eyes widened. He thought back to the happy look the mime had given him, the unexpected hug, and the mime’s red hair and blue eyes.

“Fuck,” Siren said, closing his laptop abruptly, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Tossing the laptop aside on his bed, Siren got up and hurried for the door.

“Siren?” Terry questioned.

Siren ignored him and the moment the door was open, he took off at a run towards Vess’ lab. Terry ran after him, having no idea what was wrong, but knowing Siren would likely need his help. Siren burst into the lab and gave a wild-eyed look around the room as Vess glanced up and then narrowed his eyes at him.

“What are you doing?” Vess demanded, “What are you looking for?”

“Where’s Michael?” Siren demanded, hoping Vess would buy the deception, “The asshole stole something from me!”

Vess rolled his eyes, instantly not wanting to get involved. “He’s back at my apartment,” he replied, going back to his work, “You won’t be needed today, Siren, and so you can take the day off.”

Siren was instantly suspicious. “Why?” he demanded.

Vess didn’t even bother to look up at him. “I have a lot to do today and I don’t need your help.”

Siren had a feeling he knew exactly what Vess was planning on doing that day and he turned and left the lab without another word. He ran for the patient rooms and began opening each door one by one, but there was no sign of the mime. Out of breath and wheezing heavily, he then turned and ran for the test room, hoping he wasn’t too late. He only made it halfway there before he had to stop to catch his breath.

“You really need to stop smoking and get more exercise,” Terry commented, “When’s the last time you went to the company gym?”

“Sh-shut up, Kevin!” Siren snapped, glaring up at him.

Terry rolled his eyes and simply waited a few minutes as Siren gasped and wheezed as he caught his breath. When Siren could finally breathe again, he took off at a brisk walk in the direction of the test rooms. After checking each one, he was relieved to find Mime Bomb in Test Room #3. He stared at the mime through the two-way glass and watched as the doctors within checked Mime Bomb’s vitals. 

“Who is that?” Terry whispered to him, “He’s not just a member of Team Red, is he? You know him.”

Siren gave a slow nod. “He’s the little boy I saved from the fire,” he responded, “His name is Yuri.”

Terry’s eyes widened, knowing what this meant. Vess had everything he needed to complete his experiments.

“What about you?” Terry questioned in concern.

“Vess no longer has any use for me and once he confirms he has what he needs, he’ll dispose of me,” Siren responded with a shrug.

“What are you going to do?” Terry demanded.

Siren glanced up at him briefly. “Everything I can, Kevin.”

Mime Bomb didn’t seem to be harmed in any way, and Siren continued watching, trying to figure out what he was going to do. When the doctors were finished with their examinations, a thick stack of papers was placed in front of Mime Bomb with a pen. Siren knew exactly what they were doing, and knew they were trying to confirm the experiments on Mime Bomb were a success. Mime Bomb sat at a table in the direct center of the room, and he crossed his arms, clearly not wanting to cooperate. Siren couldn’t hear what was being said, but the doctors pointed to the papers and then made their way towards the door.

Siren remained where he was and when the doctors left the room, they paused at the sight of him.

“Are you supposed to be here?” one of the doctors demanded.

“I should be asking you the same thing considering how fucking stupid you are, Doctor Mason,” Siren retorted, “You flunked out of medical school but yet you somehow got a job here.”

Doctor Mason’s face flushed and then he scowled. “I’ll be informing Doctor Vess about this!” he snarled.

“Go for it,” Siren responded, “I’m sure he’ll really appreciate having his time wasted with something like this. What exactly are you going to tell him? You saw me standing in a hallway and then I was mean to you?”

Doctor Mason turned even redder. Without a word, he turned and stormed away. Siren rolled his eyes and stared in the window, debating on what to do. He couldn’t touch the door or else Vess would immediately know he was up to something. He doubted he had access anyway.

Siren glanced around the room and his gaze fell on the security camera aimed at Mime Bomb. He then glanced around the hallway and saw there were no cameras where he was standing. Siren stared at Mime Bomb’s camera and knew there would be a blind spot if his calculations were right.

“We can’t stay here,” Terry whispered to him, “Vess could come any moment!”

Siren said nothing and crossed the hallway towards the lightswitch. Turning off the lights in the hallway, he approached the window and stood in a spot he knew should be a blindspot. Mime Bomb glanced towards the window and now that the light was off, he could see Siren clearly. His eyes widened and he abruptly stood to his feet.

[[No, sit down,]] Siren advised him through sign, [[You’re being watched.]]

Mime Bomb glanced up at the camera and then slowly sat back down.

[[Do not respond to me,]] Siren signed, [[The test in front of you is to test your code breaking skills. You were one of the experiments to receive enhanced math skills. Vess is trying to confirm the experiment was successful.]]

Mime Bomb glanced down at the test.

[[If you refuse to do the test, they will hurt you. If you do the test correctly, they will also hurt you. The only thing you can do is delay their tests for as long as possible. Take the test but score completely average. Get no more and no less than 12-20% of the questions correct. Pretend to be normal in every way and force Vess to do additional tests.]]

Mime Bomb frowned and flipped open the test, and then looked back to Siren.

[[I’m sorry he managed to find you, Yuri. I’m going to do everything I can to get you out of here but you have to be patient.]]

Mime Bomb swallowed heavily and had a feeling he was in for absolute hell. He was incredibly relieved that Siren did recognize him, and he wanted to respond to him. Instead he gave the barest nod and then picked up the pen to get started.

[[I have to go now, but I’ll check in on you as much as I can. Your team is coming for you.]]

Siren then walked away and Mime Bomb had never felt more alone. Letting out a deep sigh, he put pen to paper and began answering the questions wrong.

As Siren walked away down the hallway, he turned to look up at Terry. He seemed to be genuinely concerned about something and Terry gave him a questioning look.

“What?” he demanded, “Is something wrong?”

“Call in sick tomorrow, Terry,” Siren said, “Don’t come in to work. Whatever you do stay far away from this lab.”’

Without another word Siren continued down the hallway as Terry abruptly stopped walking. Siren had just called him by his name…

Terry stared after Siren and had a feeling he should listen and call in sick. He had a family to protect, and things were going to get ugly.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Mime Bomb tensed as the door opened and he looked up feeling instant apprehension. He’d been sitting by himself in the test room for hours and he was tired and incredibly anxious.

Vess entered the room flipping through several pages of a report before finally looking up. His expression wasn’t happy and he stared at Mime Bomb somewhat suspiciously. Mime Bomb simply stared back at him while rolling the pen under his fingertips.

“You’re in perfect health which is ideal, but your written test was...concerning,” Vess finally replied, “According to the results, your math level is barely at a secondary level.”

Mime Bomb was relieved that he’d done the test correctly since he’d been worrying for hours that he’d scored too high. Vess glanced back at his reports with a frown and made a noise of disapproval. 

“I was certain you were one of the subjects to receive advanced code breaking skills, but perhaps I was mistaken…”

Vess continued flipping through the reports and then he heaved a sigh. “What skill were you supposed to have?”

Mime Bomb shrugged.

Vess narrowed his eyes. “There’s no point in playing dumb, I’ll find out what it is eventually.”

Mime Bomb simply looked up at him, doing his best to look innocent. Vess muttered a few things under his breath and then turned to leave without another word. A few minutes later, Mime Bomb was collected from the test room by several guards and returned to one of the patient rooms. 

The silence was immediately unbearable and so Mime Bomb crawled into the bed and buried himself in the blankets. The silence followed him into his dreams and he found no relief in sleep. The nightmares were worse than anything he’d ever had before, and he kept seeing Vess’ manic face over and over again. He woke up hyperventilating and covered in a sheen of sweat. The lights were kept on the whole night, and he had no idea what time it was. Getting out of the bed, he crawled back into the far corner of the room and curled up just wanting Team Red to hurry up. What if they couldn’t get to him? What if Vess killed them? What if this was where he died?

Clutching his head in stress, he began to rock, feeling like he was going to lose his mind. He couldn’t do this a second time. There was no way he would be able to mentally survive any of this.

What felt like an eternity later, the door opened, the squeaking hinges sounding deafening in the silent room. Two guards entered they tossed a hospital gown at all.

“Put that on,” one of them ordered, “Doctor Vess is giving you an MRI this morning.”

Mime Bomb simply stared at them and one of the guards raised their baton over their head. “Need a little motivation?” he demanded.

Mime Bomb picked up the hospital gown.

“That’s what I thought,” the guard said in a snide tone.

Absolutely humiliated, Mime Bomb undressed in front of the guards and slipped on the gown. He could feel their eyes taking in the sight of the extensive scarring on the torso, and he did his best to ignore them. Once the gown was tied, they took him by the arms and began leading him out of the room. Mime Bomb didn’t resist and allowed himself to be taken through the halls to a lab he hadn’t been in before. 

Vess was waiting for him inside and he immediately approached to give Mime Bomb a quick look-over.

“Do you have any metal plates, pins, or screws in your body?” he demanded.

Mime Bomb nodded.

Vess let out a curse. “Where?” he demanded.

Mime Bomb pointed to his arm. Vess seized the arm and stared at the scaring, recognizing the signs of a bone that had recently been aligned.

“This will have to come out before your MRI,” Vess informed him, “Any other metal on your body?”

Mime Bomb shook his head, and tried to back away from Vess, clutching his arm tightly against his chest. Vess wasn’t in the mood for this and simply grabbed Mime Bomb by the shirt and pushed him down into the nearby chair.

“Don’t move,” Vess ordered, “I’m going to look over your x-rays from yesterday. This won’t take long.”

Vess left the room and Mime Bomb immediately surged forward to yank at the doorknob. It was predictably locked and so he heaved an anxious sigh and glanced around the room. There didn’t seem to be anything he could use as a weapon, and he knew it would be stupid to fight. He stood no chance against Vess and countless guards, and there was nothing he could do.

He stared at the MRI machine and wondered if it would be suicide to vandalize it. He doubted he could get away with such a thing and so after a moment, he sat down in the chair, feeling defeated. True to his word, Vess returned just a few minutes later. He carried with him a medical bag and Mime Bomb was instantly on edge.

“You should have had those pins removed months ago,” Vess scolded, “Did you never go for a follow-up appointment after your surgery?”

Mime Bomb had assumed the pins were supposed to stay in and he hadn’t had any hospital visits at all. He simply shook his head and Vess gave him a look of pure exasperation.

“The idiocy of humanity never ceases to amaze me,” he commented, snapping open his medical bag, “Rest your arm on the table in front of you.”

Mime Bomb shook his head and moved his arm further away from Vess.

“Don’t be so childish,” Vess scolded, “The pins need to come out, and the procedure will barely hurt.”

Mime Bomb shook his head again.

Vess narrowed his eyes. “I could always just cut off the arm if you’d prefer that?” he suggested, tone getting an edge to it.

Mime Bomb stared at him with wide eyes and then hesitantly placed his arm on the table. Vess gave him one last warning look and then began disinfecting Mime Bomb’s arm around the elbow. Mime Bomb watch him warily, wincing each time the cold disinfectant was applied to his skin.

“I’m going to numb the area, but it’s a very tiny incision and it won’t be too painful,” Vess informed him.

He removed a syringe out of his bag and Mime Bomb watched as he only drew a few drops of clear liquid into the syringe. Vess then injected it into Mime Bomb’s arm who flinched but didn’t try to pull away. Vess disposed of the syringe and then began getting a few items out of his bag. Mime Bomb stared in horror at the large set of pliers he removed and he had a feeling this was going to be horrible.

His entire arm felt heavy and numb already and when Vess gave him a pinch a moment later, he didn’t feel it. Vess nodded in satisfaction and once again disinfected the arm. 

“Stay very still,” Vess ordered, “You don’t want me to accidentally nick something I shouldn’t.”

Mime Bomb tensed as Vess made a tiny incision and he didn’t even feel it. When Vess grabbed a pin and yanked it out however, he definitely felt **that**. He let out a gasp of pain, but didn’t dare move. Vess removed the other pins and with practiced ease he closed the tiny wound with a single stitch.

“There, now get up onto the MRI bed,” Vess ordered, “You’ve wasted enough of my time.”

Mime Bomb did as he was told and crawled up onto the bed of the MRI.

“Lay back and place your head in the foam support,” Vess ordered, “Stay incredibly still and it should only take twenty minutes or so.”

Vess crossed the room and took a seat at a large control panel and a moment later, the bed began slowly sliding into the MRI. Not liking the very small space, Mime Bomb closed his eyes and a moment later loud thumping began, causing him to jerk in surprise.

“Stop moving!” Vess snapped at him, “I need clear images!”

Mime Bomb smirked. Is that so? As the MRI continued thumping and banging Mime Bomb moved his head this way and that, ignoring the frustrated snarls from Vess. After ten minutes of this, Mime Bomb was suddenly startled when the bed was yanked out of the machine. Vess loomed over him furiously, and he looked angry enough to throttle him.

“The only thing you’re going to accomplish by being obstinate is making life much harder for yourself than it has to be. I am going to give you one more chance to cooperate, and then I'm sedating you and strapping you to the bed.”

Mime Bomb simply stared at him.

“Acknowledge what I just said to you,” Vess ordered.

Mime Bomb slowly nodded.

“Good, now stay still and allow me to get the images I need.”

Mime Bomb definitely didn’t want to end up sedated and so he had no choice but to do as he was told. He let out a sigh of resignation and then closed his eyes as the bed was pushed back into the MRI. He stayed perfectly still and twenty minutes later, the thumping stopped and the bed was pulled out of the machine.

Vess ignored him as he stared at the images and once again a completely manic look was on his face. 

“Yes!” he exclaimed with a laugh, “I knew it!”

Mime Bomb slowly sat up and stared at the doctor. His curiosity getting the better of him, he slid off the bed and very cautiously approached. Vess glanced up at him briefly and then waved him over.

“Take a look at the beauty inside your mind!” Vess invited, pointing to his screens, “Take a look at the ultimate masterpiece!”

Mime Bomb turned his gaze to the screens and saw images of his brain on the screen. White lines were all through the images looking like a spiderweb of light. Every part of his brain was touched by these strands, and Vess was clearly delighted.

“Absolutely perfect!” he exclaimed, “You are the **perfect** specimen! I knew the experiments had been completed on you! I knew it!”

Mime Bomb stared with wide eyes at the screen, realizing just how much the experiments had affected him. He would never be normal ever again and these images were the proof of it. 

“I was wrong about your skill being codebreaking, and so we’ll need to do extensive testing to discover what it is. You will take additional written tests and you’d better do your best on them!”

Mime Bomb simply nodded, having no intentions of helping Vess in any way.

“Very well, the guards will take you back to the testing room,” Vess informed him, turning his attention back to his screen.

The guards, who had been waiting by the door, stepped forward and Mime Bomb once again found himself seized by the arms. He didn’t resist and walked with the guards and just a few minutes later he was shoved back into Test Room #3. There was an incredibly thick stack of paper on the table and Mime Bomb frowned at the thought of taking so many tests.

“You have until the end of today to finish,” one of the guards informed him, “Tomorrow Doctor Vess has...other plans for you.”

Mime Bomb didn’t like the sound of that and he could feel his own death all around him. It was only a matter of time before Vess hurt him.

Crossing the room, Mime Bomb took a seat at the table and glared at the massive pile of papers. He looked up at the camera watching him and then reached for the pen. Something between the stacks of paper caught his eye and he reached out and picked it up. It was a chocolate bar with a smiley face drawn on the wrapper. Mime Bomb had a feeling this was a gift from Siren and he knew he had to depend on his friends and family. They loved him and they wouldn’t give up on him.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Karam couldn’t believe what the Chief had told her. Her little brother was working for V.I.L.E?! At first she’d wanted to vehemently deny it, but in her heart she knew it was true. Ever since he’d been a small boy, he’d always been drawn to the dark side, and there wasn’t a thing she could do to help him. The Chief had grilled her for hours, but Karam didn’t know anything about the lab or Carmen Sandiego. She told her about the upcoming wedding, and Chief saw this as A.C.M.E’s way in. She now had orders to collect as much information as she could about both Michael Finnegan Jr. and Numa Quederi. 

Karam knew her brother deserved to be held accountable for his actions, and although it pained her to do so, she agreed to help A.C.M.E in any way she could.

Setting up her tablet in a private room, Karam hoped she could end this whole situation as peacefully as possible. She straightened her hijab until she was certain she looked presentable and then she began dialing Michael’s number.

Michael answered on the third ring and his angry expression quickly switched to surprise.

“Oh!” he exclaimed, “I thought you were someone else…”

“Good afternoon, MJ,” she greeted, “I hope you’ve been well.”

Michael’s expression faltered and for just a moment she saw a flash of raw pain in his eyes. He quickly masked it however, and smirked.

“Never been better!” he exclaimed, “Did you receive the invitation?”

“I did,” Karam confirmed, holding it up so he could see, “I see the date of the wedding is on the 14th, but there’s no address.”

“Are you coming?” Michael demanded.

“Of course!” Karam replied, “I’d never miss Numa’s big day! I have a wedding present all ready to go, and I just need to know where I’m going since I’ll need to arrange a flight.”

“Where are you right now?” Michael asked.

“I’m in Vietnam right now taking care of some charity work.”

Michael wrinkled his nose for a moment at the thought of working for free, but he didn’t comment. “You’re a doctor too, right?” he asked, “Just like Numa?”

Karma almost grimaced at that, but she instead smiled at him and shook her head. “I’m a different kind of doctor,” she explained, “I’m a psychiatrist.”

Michael scoffed. “A crazy person doctor.”

“Most people who speak with a psychiatrist aren’t crazy, they’re just stressed or need advice. Sometimes people who are feeling depressed or anxious might need a prescription to help them, or sometimes they just need someone to listen.”

“Sounds gay,” Michael commented pressing a few buttons on his com, “Dammit. This is a new phone and I’m still figuring out how to use it. I’m texting you directions on how to get here. Did you get my text yet?”

Karam pulled out her cell phone and glanced down at it. “Not yet.”

Michael scowled down at his phone and pressed a few more buttons. “This cell phone is stupid. I told Numa I wanted an iphone but he gave me some sort of stupid company phone instead. This thing doesn’t even have a name brand!”

Karam’s phone dinged and she saw Michael had texted her a google maps link. When she clicked on it, it brought up a location marked on the map in Northern Siberia.

“I just got your text,” Karam confirmed, “Wow, Siberia! It must be pretty chilly up there this time of year!”

“Yeah, you don’t know the half of it,” Michael replied, “I hate living here but Numa won’t move until his experiments are done.”

“Is he working on something interesting?” she asked him.

Michael hesitated. “Maybe, I don’t really know what he does…”

Michael’s expression clouded again, and Karam could tell something was really bothering him. “MJ, is there something Numa is doing that you don’t like?” she questioned.

“No, of course not!” Michael immediately denied, “Why would you think **that**?!”

“I can see that you’re upset about something and maybe I can help you?”

Michael let out a derisive snort. 

“Sometimes it helps just saying what’s bothering you. I’m a doctor and I want to help you.”

Michael’s expression instantly turned angry. “You don’t know anything!” he snapped, “You have no idea what I’ve been through and you think you can just solve all my problems?!”

“No, of course not,” Karam assured him, “No one person can solve every problem, but I’m always willing to listen and do everything I can to help.”

“And why would you do that?” Michael challenged defensively.

“For one it’s my job, and for two you’re soon going to be family. Family is **always** there for one another.”

Michael flinched back so violently that Karam knew she’d just touched a nerve.

“Michael, are you alright?” Karam asked, softening her tone of voice.

Michael sat there silently, head in hand and he didn’t answer.

Karam knew that her brother was doing truly terrible things, but she knew nothing about Michael. What did Michael think of all of this?

“Michael, please talk to me,” Karam begged, “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

“Family isn’t always there for you,” Michael said slowly, not looking up at her, “I have no one now except for Numa.”

Karam could hear the pain in his voice, and her every instinct was telling her to help him. “Tell me how I can help you,” Karam replied, “Talk to me.”

Michael was silent for an incredibly long time. When he finally looked up, his eyes were looking suspiciously bright.

“I want to help someone…” he said hesitantly.

Karam cocked her head. “Who do you want to help?”

Michael paused for a moment and then replied. “There’s a little girl...a very sick little girl.”

Karam leaned forward in concern.

“She’s one of Numa’s patients but she needs to get out of this lab. She needs a kidney and a liver transplant to save her life, but that’s not something she can get here. Numa doesn’t want her to leave but she’ll die if she remains. I want to help her but...I’d be betraying Numa’s trust if I take her.”

Karam wasn’t expecting this and simply stared at Michael in surprise. “Can I help?” she asked.

Michael blinked. “Help? Help how?”

“You said this child needs a hospital, correct?”

“Yeah?”

“Then I’ll help you get her to one,” Karam promised.

Michael seemed taken aback. 

“If you’re saving someone’s life then you never have to apologize for that. Numa can be stubborn and he’ll just have to get over it. Do what you feel is right, MJ.”

Michael hesitated again uncertainly. “I’d get caught. The guards would never let her leave with me.”

Karam thought for a moment. “Then let her leave with me,” she suggested, “I’ll come to you now and if you can get the girl to me, I can sneak her to a hospital. No one will ever know you were involved. Let Numa be mad at me, I’m fine with that.”

Karam didn’t mention the fact it wouldn’t be just her arriving but rather all of A.C.M.E. There were going to be a lot of arrests done that day.

Michael furrowed his brow as he thought about it. “You’re fine with me blaming you?” he asked in surprise.

“I don’t mind,” Karam assured him.

Michael thought of how sick DD was and he knew this was likely her only chance. He hated the fact he was so attached to that little girl, and knew she needed to live. 

“How will you get her out of the lab?” 

“I can create a distraction so I can slip past the guards with her,” Karam told him.

“She’s incredibly sick,” Michael informed her, “How fast can you get here?”

“I can be there tomorrow,” Karam said, “Just don’t tell anyone I’m coming.”

Michael snorted. “Of course not, I’m not an idiot.”

“I'm going to arrange a few things and then I’ll call you back, alright?” Karam asked.

Michael nodded. “Don’t tell Numa I’m doing this!”

“You have my word,” Karam told him, “I’ll call you back in a few hours.”

“Alright.”

“Goodbye, MJ.”

“Bye.”

The moment the call ended, Karam stood to her feet. They now knew the location of the lab, and A.C.M.E would attack and arrest those responsible. 

The thought of arresting her brother made Karam deeply sad, but she knew it was for the best. He needed serious help and once behind bars, they could finally get him the help he so desperately needed. A.C.M.E weren’t cruel, and it was obvious Vess was mentally ill. They’d get him the proper treatment, and hopefully help him to become a better person. Karam felt like she’d failed him when they were children, but she vowed she wouldn’t let him down again. She’d get her brother back, and she would help him. She’d dedicate her life to getting him well again.

Knowing she had to inform the Chief of everything she had learned, Karam hurried from the room. She was coming for her brother whether he wanted her to or not.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Mime Bomb was mentally exhausted and he was lightly dozing with his head on the table in front of him. He’d spent the last ten hours completing countless tests and he never wanted to see a pen ever again. His back and hand were both aching and he was incredibly hungry. 

He was left by himself in the room as the tests were taken away and that’s when he sneakily ate the candy bar Siren had left him. He was still hungry, but at least the edge was taken off for now. He suspected there was a reason Vess was starving him, because he had access to water, but not food. Was it a tactic to make him talk or was there another reason?

Mime Bomb slipped into a dream, and like before it was a nightmare. He dreamed that his family and friends were all captured and put into patient rooms and horrible things were being done to them. He dreamt that Zack was tortured mercilessly and Mime Bomb was forced to watch. Vess was slicing Zack apart right in front of his eyes but there was nothing he could do to help.

The door to the test room suddenly opened and Mime Bomb jerked awake in a panic. Vess didn’t pay him any mind and entered, studying a clipboard as he walked. To Mime Bomb’s surprise, Vess took a seat across from him as he continued flipping through a few pages. Mime Bomb sat staring at him, growing increasingly uncomfortable the longer the silence stretched on. Finally Vess looked up and he didn’t look happy.

“All normal,” he stated, “Every single test came back normal. In fact you even failed the history one.”

History had never been Mime Bomb’s strong suit and so that didn’t surprise him. Vess gave him a long and hard look and then set aside the clipboard.

“Your enhanced ability is clearly not fighting since even Michael was able to take you down, and your reflexes are normal. This means it **has** to be a mental enhancement.”

Mime Bomb stared at him blankly and then shrugged.

Vess narrowed his eyes. “Have you been faking the test results?” he demanded.

Mime Bomb quickly shook his head, but Vess didn’t buy it.

“If I find out you wasted an entire day for no reason, I am **not** going to be pleased,” he stated.

Mime Bomb gave him an innocent look and then made the sign for food and pointed to his stomach. Vess turned his attention back to the clipboard and then shook his head.

“No, you can’t eat anything,” he informed him, “You need to be ready for surgery at short notice.”

Mime Bomb felt instead dread and stared at Vess in alarm. Vess ignored him for a few minutes and then he let out a deep sigh.

“Alright, since the written tests were a failure, I have to move on to other tests.”

Mime Bomb didn’t like the sound of that at all.

“Follow me,” Vess ordered, getting up from his seat, “I suggest you cooperate fully and make things easier for both of us.”

Having no other choice, Mime Bomb got to his feet and gave a long stretch that caused a few joints to crack loudly. Feeling uncomfortable wearing just a hospital gown, Mime Bomb made sure he was fully covered as Vess opened the door.

“This way,” Vess ordered, motioning for him to follow.

Mime Bomb did as he was told and walked past the doctor into the hallway. Vess placed a hand on his shoulder to guide him, and Mime Bomb was tempted to slap the hand away. He doubted that would go over well however, and so he just did his best to ignore it. 

Vess led him down a long hallway and they passed by dozens of guards who stared at Mime Bomb like he was some sort of curiosity. Vess finally came to stop in front of a door and he pressed his hand to the control panel unlocking it.

“In here,” Vess ordered.

The door opened and Mime Bomb stepped inside, quickly seeing it looked like some sort of medical room. His gaze fell on a chair in the center of the room and he came to an abrupt halt, causing Vess to bump into his back. The chair had straps all over it and looked like something out of a horror movie. He stared at the head restraints and knew it was a very very bad idea to willingly get in that chair.

“Take a seat,” Vess ordered, pushing him into the room.

Mime Bomb’s response to that was to shove Vess out of his way and run for it. Vess yelled for the guards and Mime Bomb quickly found himself seized by two guards before he’d even made it ten feet down the hallway. Kicking and struggling with all his might, Mime Bomb fought to get away as the guards dragged him back to Vess. Vess stared down at him angrily and then motioned for the guards to put Mime Bomb in the chair.

The second he was seated, Mime Bomb lashed out as hard as he could and kicked one of the guards in the crotch. The man let out an agonized curse and fell to his knees as the other guard struggled to hold Mime Bomb down. Vess stared with narrowed eyes and then he crossed the room with purpose. Before Mime Bomb had a chance to react, he was slapped solidly across the face. He stilled in shock and the guards finished strapping him into the chair.

“That’s enough,” Vess said, his tone like ice, “You will behave yourself and do as you’re told! I will **not** warn you again!”

Mime Bomb strained against the restraints but he couldn’t move at all. The straps were pulled so tight against him that it hurt, and he knew there was nothing he could do.

“You may leave now,” Vess informed the guards.

The guards exchanged a look and then slowly backed out of the room without a word. Once they were gone, Vess approached Mime Bomb and reached for a strap to fasten the boy’s head to the chair. There was nothing Mime Bomb could do, and now he couldn’t so much as twitch his head.

“There are several tests I want to perform,” Vess informed him, “You will cooperate and not cause a fuss or I will make your life extremely miserable, do you understand?”

Mime Bomb was already nervously sweating and he watched with wide eyes as Vess crossed the room and pulled a cart full of equipment over to him. Mime Bomb began to hyperventilate at the sight of dozens of scalpels and saws, and he once again strained against the straps. Vess didn’t pay him any attention and focused on arranging things on the tray. He pulled out a very long syringe and set it in front of him as he reached for several small bottles that looked like eye drops.

Vess then picked up a strange metal contraption and to Mime Bomb’s horror, he saw it was an ocular speculum. He’d had many experiences with that his first time in the lab and he immediately knew what Vess was going to do. He struggled and fought as Vess approached him, but he could move even an inch. Vess carefully placed the speculum on one of Mime Bomb’s eyes and now he could no longer blink.

Vess grabbed the eyedrops and gave him two drops of each in his eye and Mime Bomb’s vision blurred.

“I suggest you look off to your left because you’re not going to want to watch the needle,” Vess stated callously.

Mime Bomb was having an anxiety attack and he felt his eyes fill with tears.

“Stop that!” Vess angrily scolded, “I’m trying to work here!”

Mime Bomb couldn’t stop the sob that tore through him and Vess let out an angry curse. Mime Bomb was hyperventilating as he had vivid flashbacks to all the horrible experiments done on him, and he barely even felt it as Vess injected a needle into his arm. Mime Bomb immediately became drowsy and his anxiety dulled as the sedative took hold. Vess impatiently wiped his tears aside and then gave him another couple eyedrops.

“Now, if you’re done with the dramatics, look to your left,” Vess ordered, picking up the long needle.

Mime Bomb was barely awake and his mind struggled to understand Vess’ words. He glanced at the needle and then immediately looked away from it. Vess came towards his eye with the needle and Mime Bomb wished someone would burst in the room and save him from this. No one came and a moment later there was a sharp, agonizing pinch in his eye as the needle was inserted.

“Stay still,” Vess advised, “I’m almost done.”

Mime Bomb didn’t want to blind himself by moving, and so he stayed perfectly still, gritting his teeth against the pain. It only last a few seconds, but it certainly felt a lot longer and once the needle was out of his eye, he glanced back to Vess.

Vess was smiling proudly as the syringe and Mime Bomb could see the tiniest spec of silver inside it.

“Beautiful,” Vess said with a sigh, “This little drop is enough to complete all of my research.”

The wolf-like smile on Vess’ face was terrifying and Vess soon reached for a second syringe.

“I want to get some blood from you as well,” Vess stated, his expression far scarier than the eye needle.

Vess took six vials of blood from Mime Bomb’s arm and Vess only seemed to become more and more manic. Vess stared at the blood with an almost hungry expression on his face and he held one of the vials up to the light to get a better look at it.

“I wonder…” Vess said quietly to himself, “...I really wonder…”

To Mime Bomb’s complete horror, Vess brought the vial to his lips and knocked it back like it was a shot of whiskey. Vess licked his lips, tongue stained red from Mime Bomb’s blood, and his eyes were oddly dilated. Mime Bomb simply stared at the other man, now realizing Vess was completely off his rocker.

Vess made a thoughtful noise, and disposed of the empty vial.

“You are going to be extremely useful to me,” Vess commented, “Tomorrow I’ll take everything I need from you. Finally I’ll be able to complete my experiments.”

Mime Bomb simply stared at him with wide eyes, now knowing that Vess was definitely going to kill him. Vess began untying the straps holding Mime Bomb in place and the mime didn’t move a muscle, too terrified to even try to escape.

“Doctor Bellum is on her way here, and tomorrow she will witness my genius firsthand,” Vess informed him, stroking his hair almost affectionately, “You are perfect.”

Mime Bomb immediately curled his arms to his chest once they were free, just wanting to curl into a ball to hide from the doctor. Vess opened the door and then motioned two guards inside.

“Take him back to his patient room,” Vess ordered, “He is not to be harmed. If he escapes, the both of you will be executed.”

The guards let out a shocked gasp and they immediately surged forward to seize Mime Bomb by the arms. They held him much tighter than was necessary and dragged him out of the room. Mime Bomb hung limply and allowed himself to be dragged along, feeling like the situation was completely hopeless. 

The guards took him back to the patient rooms and he was shoved inside one of the rooms and the door was locked. The moment he was alone, the tears began flowing and Mime Bomb clutched at his hair just wanting to scream. Instead he curled up on top of the bed as he shook with sobs, knowing it was hopeless. As he rolled over to face the wall, he felt something scratchy against his arm. Looking down, he saw a piece of folded paper had been placed in his bed. 

Unfolding the paper, he was surprised to see it was written in Welsh.

[[Your team is coming for you tomorrow, hang in there - D.]]

Mime Bomb let out a deep breath of relief and silently thanked Siren. He only had to survive one more day and then this lab was going down.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**The final chapter will be on the Dec. 31st!!!!! Only a few days left until Broken is complete! I am so unbelievably excited for this end! Heehee :D**

**Violetfic did the awesome pics of Vess and Mime Bomb! :)**

.

**Credit for the names of Otterman and Moose Boy go to Animedemon01**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**

**Please don't forget to let me know what you think! **


	41. The Whole World Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Team Red Family series
> 
> V.I.L.E has created their own team to fight against Carmen Sandigeo. Crackle leads the team of six operatives, and is determined to kill Carmen Sandiego at all costs. Crackle's mind has been damaged and twisted beyond recognition, and he has no memories of the girl in red. Is it too late to reach him, or will Carmen have no choice but to take him down?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authornote:
> 
> Hello everyone!
> 
> Last chapter! Last chapter! Last chapter!!! Woot woot! Enjoy the end of Broken and make sure to keep an eye out for part 3 in a couple weeks.
> 
> An enormous thank you to the very awesome Violetfic and Coulrosaurus for offering plenty of good suggestions, and for being my betas! They both seriously offered SO many suggestions for this fic that they both deserve some recognition! You guys really helped improve this story a lot and you're awesome!
> 
> Please note that Dr. Vess and Michael Jr. both use the F-word extremely frequently in their everyday speech. You have been warned. Dr. Vess was created by Violetfic, and I am using him with her permission.
> 
> If there are any artists who would like to draw for this story, please let me know and I'll add your artwork to the chapter so everyone can see it!
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, please let me know your thoughts. I'm open to all suggestions and criticisms as it helps me improve the story.
> 
> Happy Reading!

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**Broken**

**Chapter 41**

**The Whole World Ends**

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

  
  


Mime Bomb huddled in the corner as the door to his room opened. Two guards entered and Mime Bomb knew they were taking him to his death. It was time for Vess to dissect him like an animal, and Team Red **still** weren’t there yet. As the guards crossed the room toward him, Mime Bomb began swinging his fists, not willing to go down without a fight. He landed several good hits, but the guards simply yelled for backup and three more guards rushed in to help subdue him. Mime Bomb found himself pinned to the floor and no matter how much he struggled, he couldn’t move. 

The guards yanked him back to his feet and they each grabbed hold of him and carried him out of the room as he struggled against them. Mime Bomb fought against them the whole way to the O.R and when they entered the room, he saw Vess waiting for him. Vess was dressed for surgery, and this caused Mime Bomb to struggle all the harder.

“Strap him down,” Vess ordered, pointing to the operating table.

The guards forced Mime Bomb to lay on the operating table and all four limbs were strapped down. Mime Bomb pulled uselessly against his restraints, but there was no escaping. Vess approached, checked that he was properly strapped down and then glanced back at the guards.

“You may leave.”

Mime Bomb watched as the guards left the room, and now he was left alone with Vess. Vess had dozens of tools all around him, and Mime Bomb felt nauseous just looking at them. Vess stared at Mime Bomb for several seconds and then leaned in close to look at his eyes. Mime Bomb was tempted to spit on him, but he knew that wouldn’t end well for him and instead stayed as still as possible. 

Vess seemed incredibly pleased and he patted Mime Bomb on the head almost affectionately.

“I know you don’t want to die, but it’s a necessity. Your death will make great things possible, and I’m truly grateful. I will not be cruel and I promise you won’t feel a thing. You’ll simply slip asleep and never wake again. You won’t even realize what’s happening.”

Mime Bomb slowly shook his head as he felt tears come to his eyes.

“There’s no need for that,” Vess informed him, “This is beyond the both of us now. My research is going to change the world and I have you to thank for this. Once Doctor Bellum arrives, we’ll get started.”

Mime Bomb watched as Vess began meticulously sanitizing every surface in the room. It took Vess a long time and when he was done, he turned to Mime Bomb. To Mime Bomb’s complete horror, Vess began cutting the hospital gown off him with a sharp pair of surgical scissors. Completely humiliated as he was stripped, he could do nothing about it and simply squeezed his eyes closed. Vess then began sanitizing him with freezing cold alcohol and by the time he was done, Mime Bomb was shaking from the cold.

Vess was now prepared for surgery and all he had to do was wait for Doctor Bellum to arrive. Disposing of his gloves, he washed his hands thoroughly and then put on a new pair of sterile gloves. As Vess began arranging his tools in a certain order, the door to the O.R suddenly slammed open.

Vess looked up in shock as Siren came in like he belonged there, and the smaller man glanced at Mime Bomb and then at Vess.

“Doctor Bellum has just arrived,” Siren informed him, poking at a few of the tools set up, “Her van just pulled through the gate.”

Vess couldn’t believe Siren had the nerve to enter his operating room like that. Siren was touching absolutely everything with his bare hands and Vess saw red. The entire room was now contaminated. Siren had been a thorn in his side for ten years, and now Vess had no use for him. Siren’s protection was now gone.

Stepping forward, he slapped Siren as hard as he could, sending the smaller man sprawling to the floor. Siren knocked a tray of scalpels from the cart, and he clutched at his face in pure agony. Vess had never hit him that hard before and it was definitely going to bruise. Siren couldn’t stop the tears as he covered his head as Vess slapped at him a second time.

“How **dare** you! Who do you think you are entering my O.R during surgery?!” Vess bellowed furiously, “You’ve contaminated the entire room and now I’ll need to re-sanitize everything!”

Siren wailed in pain as Vess slapped at him again and again mercilessly.

“I’m through dealing with you, Siren, and you’re going to **severely** regret this! I’ve been far too patient and far too nice to you!”

“It was important!” Siren cried out, curling into a protective ball.

“Nothing could be more important than what I’m doing!” Vess snarled.

“I was told to inform you that the gate malfunctioned after Doctor Bellum entered. The guards were too scared to tell you so they sent me!”

Vess let out a curse but knew it was probably nothing. “And where is Doctor Bellum now?”

“She was heading to your lab to meet you there,” Siren explained, still not moving from the floor.

Vess was furious that Siren had just added an entire hour to his prep time and he removed his gloves and slammed them into the waste bin.

“I’ll deal with you later,” Vess snapped, “Where is your guard?”

“Terry called in sick,” Siren replied, “He’s not here.”

“Wonderful, now you’re running loose in the lab. You’re to go to your room and stay there until otherwise told, am I understood?”

Siren nodded and Vess stormed for the door. “I’ll be back in five minutes and for your sake, you’d better not be here.”

The second Vess left, Siren looked up and wiped the tears from his eyes. There were a few marks on his face from where Vess had hit him, but he offered Mime Bomb a smile.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you more,” he whispered, approaching the surgical table.

Mime Bomb was just relieved to see a familiar face.

“Team Red will be here at any time,” Siren told him, “I damaged the gate and Vess won’t be able to close it. They’re going to be disguising themselves as guards to get inside. Just a little longer, Yuri. I can’t untie you or Vess will shoot us both. We have to wait for the attack.”

Mime Bomb gave him a slow nod.

“I’ve delayed Vess in every way I can, and I promise I won’t let him hurt you. Will you be alright for just a little while longer?”

Mime Bomb gave another nod and wished he could give the other man a hug. He’d spent years worrying about him, and he was incredibly grateful he was still alive.

“I have to go before Vess gets back but I’ll be keeping a close eye on things, I promise,” Siren assured him, turning towards the door, “Soon, we’ll both be out of this hellhole.”

As Siren left, Mime Bomb had trust that his friends and family would save him.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Carmen stared at the large team in front of her. All of Team Red and Team Crackle were together in the V.I.L.E bus they had stolen. 

Carmen stared at Zack and Ivy and gave them a fond smile. They were her very first recruits and she’d grown to love them both a lot over the last couple years. She was grateful to have met them, and she honestly considered them both family now.

Carmen turned her gaze to Shadowsan who was staring out the window silently. He’d been there for her during her entire life, and he was the one person she knew she could always depend on. She had no memories of her father, but Shadowsan had filled that role and she deeply loved and respected him for it. 

Tigress started off being her rival at the academy, and then she had become her enemy. She didn’t always see eye to eye with the other girl, but over the past few months, they had learned to accept their differences and become close friends.

Carmen smiled wider when she looked to Le Chèvre and El Topo. You couldn’t think of one without the other and she had never seen two people more made for each other. Sweet and gentle El Topo contrasted with haughty and temperamental Le Chèvre, and they evened each other out. 

Finally Carmen turned her eyes to Chase and Julia. Partners who also balanced each other out perfectly. Although their relationship wasn’t romantic, they worked perfectly together and were very close to each other. 

Chase had changed so much since Carmen had first met him. Purehearted and honest, Chase had worked hard to take her down, and now he worked just as hard to protect her. Chase had learned control, and now he seemed so much happier than before.

Julia had also changed a lot in the time Carmen had known her. Sweet and naive Julia had turned into a ferocious fighter who wouldn’t hesitate to defend those she cared about.

Carmen glanced from person to person in the bus, every single one of them having a connection with her which was unique and special to her. Even Team Crackle all had their nice moments with her, and she both liked and respected them all.

Carmen glanced at Crackle who was staring down at his com silently. Once upon a time he had been her best friend, but now the man before her was somebody else. Crackle was serious and a bit grouchy, but it was clear he loved his team and would do anything for them. She missed their closeness, but she knew he wasn’t ready to be friends again. Not yet.

“You’re approaching the lab in about five minutes,” Player suddenly informed her through her com, “From what I can see from the security cameras, Siren came through for us and the gate is wide open.”

“Okay, thank you, Player,” Carmen told him, “Once Graham cuts the power and sets up the signal blocker, we won’t be able to tell you what’s happening.”

“I know,” Player replied, sounding incredibly worried, “Please just be careful.”

“Don’t worry about us. We’re going to get Mime Bomb back and we’re going to take down this lab once and for all.”

“Yeah, Player, we got this!” Ivy exclaimed.

“Let me know the second you have signal again,” Player begged, “I’m going to going nuts here not knowing.”

“We will,” Carmen promised.

Carmen glanced at the two teams and knew they were ready.

Everyone was wearing V.I.L.E guards’ uniforms and she really hoped their disguises would work. Siren had arranged a large transfer of guards from Moscow to the lab for additional security and he assured her they’d be able to just drive right through the gate unhindered. 

“Please be safe everyone,” Carmen begged, “I don’t want to lose anyone in there. We have no idea what sort of defenses Vess put in place and things could turn ugly.”

“According to Carmen’s inside man, there are approximately 200 guards inside the lab at all times,” Crackle stated, “We need to neutralize as many as possible before they realize we infiltrated.”

“And by neutralize, he means knock out, not kill,” Carmen said firmly, “We don’t want any unnecessary deaths.”

Crackle rolled his eyes and then put on his helmet. “Defend yourselves and focus on destroying that lab. Does anyone have any questions before we reach the compound?”

“No, we’ve gone over the plan dozens of times, wombat,” Neal replied, “We all know what we’re supposed to do.”

The bus was driving through the streets of the small V.I.L.E town and Carmen was terrified they were going to be too late. Siren had promised to do everything he could, but Player was still distrustful of him, and was worried Siren was planning to betray them. 

Everyone put on their helmets as they approached the massive gated laboratory, and Carmen took a few deep breaths to calm her nerves.

Zack stopped the bus as two armed guards stepped out to block them, and then he opened the bus doors so they could enter. The guards stepped onto the bus and stared at the crowd, gripping their assault rifles tightly.

“What’s all this then?” one of the guards demanded, “Who are you?!”

“We’re the transfers from Moscow,” Carmen replied, throwing on a thick Russian accent, “We’re here for additional protection at Doctor Vesalius’ request.”

“I have no record of this,” the guard replied suspiciously, “All transfers come directly through me!”

“Check your papers,” Carmen answered, “The transfer has been authorized. We’re the first of several buses arriving.”

The guard stared at her long and hard. “I **will** go check!” he then snapped at her, “But I can tell you right now that I have no transfer paperwork!”

The guard then got off the bus without another word to anyone. His partner remained behind and she kept her gun trained on Zack the entire time he was gone. They sat in awkward silence for several minutes before the other guard finally returned.

“...the paperwork fell behind my desk,” the guard admitted sheepishly, “Everything seems to be in order. Do you know where you all report to?”

“Yes, we were already given a full briefing,” Shadowsan replied, “Everyone knows where they should be.”

The guard stared at him for a moment. “Gee, your voice sounds really familiar…”

“...I get that a lot,” Shadowsan stated.

“Did you used to work at Costco?”

“...I’ve worked in many places,” Shadowsan answered, “But we are in a hurry if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, of course! Sorry for the delay! Have a great workday, guys!”

The two guards exited the bus and Zack continued through the gate and parked just in front of the entrance.

“Okay everyone, let’s go!” Carmen said, stepping off the bus.

Both teams got off the bus and stared at the building in front of them. Soon this lab and everything in it would be destroyed. Everyone had memorized the blueprints Siren had sent them and they knew their way around the entire building. Everyone had their own mission, and they knew exactly where they had to go.

The moment they were inside, Neal stripped down to his slick suit and immediately crawled inside one of the vents out of sight. Everyone else scattered in different directions and they all knew they had to be as fast as possible before they were discovered.

Crackle was in charge of cutting all power to the building and he hurried for the control room with Paper Star by his side. No one even questioned them as they made their way down the hallway, and when they came to the control room, they saw it had a fingerprint reader. Having no other choice, Crackle raised a hand and knocked loudly on the door.

There was the sound of muffled voices from within and a moment later the door was opened. There were two guards inside the room and they’d clearly been in the middle of lunch.

“We’re the additional backup Vess ordered,” Crackle stated, “Guards have been doubled effective immediately.”

“Are you serious?” the man complained, “This room is tiny as it is! How do they expect four of us to fit in here?”

Crackle gave him a shrug and the man let out a sigh.

“We just ordered pizza if you guys want a slice. Come on in.”

Crackle and Paper Star squeezed into the tiny room, and they all barely had enough room to move.

“We got plain cheese because Brad decided to become vegetarian. Help yourself to the pizza and the soda.”

Paper Star slammed the two guards’ heads together as hard as she could, and they both slumped to the floor. Crackle dragged them out of the way, and then turned his attention to the controls. The first thing he did was shut down all internet access and then put up a signal blocker to stop cellphones from working. Next, Crackle turned the power off in the entire building and they were instantly plunged into darkness. Lastly, he began cutting as many wires as he could so it couldn’t be turned back on. The backup generator turned on very dim lights and Crackle knew all doors would now be unlocked.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Moose Boy and Otterman hurried for the basement, and no one paid them any attention as they passed. Their mission was to save the patients and get everyone outside as fast and as safely as possible. They knew there were hundreds of patient rooms, but they had no idea how many were actually occupied. Siren stated most were empty and being reserved for the children Vess kept trying to bring in and that the majority of patients were on the upper basement floor.

Just as they reached the basement, the lights went out and they heard the doors all click open. Otterman opened the first door and peered in just as the emergency lighting came on. There was a man sitting in bed and Otterman squinted at him, knowing his face didn’t look quite right.

“His eyes are all burned,” Moose Boy stated.

Otterman let out a gasp of horror, realizing the patients were likely Vess’ rejects from failed experiments.

“Who’s there?” the patient demanded, huddling himself against the wall, “You’re not supposed to be in here!”

“We’re here to rescue you,” Otterman assured him, The lab is going down and we’re getting you out of here.”

The patient hesitated and then got up from his bed and reached for Otterman. Otterman took his hand, gave it a gentle squeeze and the man raised a hand to his face.

“Oh thank god!” he gasped, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Come with us, we’re getting the rest of the patients and then leaving.”

“Some are worse than me,” the patient told them, “Vesalius is a monster!”

Otterman grimaced and then they led the man with them to the next room. Otterman opened the door and the sight that met them made them gasp in horror. This patient was missing their arms and had grotesque growths all over their body.

“We’re being rescued!” The blind man called into the room.

“Rescued?” the grotesque man repeated, “The only rescue I want is a bullet between the eyes.”

“What did Vess do to you?” Otterman hesitantly asked.

The man rolled over in bed and didn’t answer.

“Let us help you,” Otterman said, taking a step closer to him.

“It’s too late for me,” the man replied, “My legs don’t work anymore. You won’t be able to help me.”

Otterman glanced over and saw the man had a wheelchair.

“Henrik, let’s get him in his wheelchair!”

Despite the man’s protests, Otterman and Moose Boy gently moved him into the wheelchair. Once they had him safely in the chair, they went to the next room and then the next. Every patient was horribly mutilated and most were blind, deaf or both. They had all the patients waiting in one room as they gathered them all together, and as they were approaching the next patient room, they saw a very familiar person running towards them down the hallway.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The moment the lights turned off, Michael sat straight up and dropped his controller to the floor. Karam’s signal! It was time to get DD out of this lab! He bumped his knee painfully against the coffee table and let out a curse as he tried to navigate through the dark, and then he knocked over a can of soda, soaking the carpet.

The emergency lights came on, and Michael stared down at the stain on the carpet knowing Vess was going to be upset. The rug was some sort of rare expensive one but Michael didn’t know anything about that. 

Deciding to deal with the stain later, he opened the door and hurried out into the hallway. Guards were rushing around in a panic, and Michael knew this was exactly the distraction he needed. He took off at a run down the hallway and no one so much as spared him a glance. The elevators were out of order and so he ran down the stairs jumping down five at a time. When he made it down to the upper basement, he ran straight for DD’s room, not noticing the two figures standing in the hallway.

Michael opened the door and stepped inside and saw DD was asleep in bed. He cautiously approached her and then laid a hand on her forehead. She had a high fever and she was shaking in her sleep. Michael knelt down beside her and gave her shoulder a firm shake. She didn’t wake and he shook her again and again. 

“Diana,” Michael whispered, “It’s time to wake up!”

DD didn’t respond.

Michael frowned at her worriedly and checked her breathing. Her breath was coming out short and fast and he knew she was in critical condition.

“Come on, let’s get you out of here,” he told her softly.

Michael scooped DD into his arms and wrapped her in the unicorn blanket he’d given her. As he went to step out the door, a massive figure suddenly blocked his way. Michael froze at the sight of Moose Boy. Moose Boy’s eyes were narrowed to angry slits, and Michael knew he was in serious trouble. Otterman squeezed past Moose Boy into the room and he gave Michael a look of complete distaste.

“How could you, Michael?” he demanded, “Do you have any idea how much your grandparents love you? How could you betray your own family like that?”

“You don’t know anything!” Michael snarled at him.

Michael now wondered if this wasn’t Karam’s distraction after all. How did they get here? Did the entire Volkov clan come after him after what he did?! Who else was here?!

“Yuri is your cousin and you gave him to that monster!” Otterman yelled at him, “You’re **disgusting**, MJ! You threw your own flesh and blood to the wolves!”

“I love Numa and I would do **anything** for him!” Michael snapped, “No one understands! I love him and none of you were willing to support me! My loyalty is only to him now!”

“What are you doing with that child?” Otterman demanded, “Another sacrifice to Vess?”

“No, she’s sick and I’m getting her to a hospital!” Michael defended, “Now get out of my way!”

“Oh, like I’m going to buy that!” Otterman snapped, “I’ve seen the other patients and you’re just as guilty as Vess! Give me the little girl or we’ll take her from you!”

Michael tightened his hold on DD and shook his head. “You won’t touch her, nerd! Over my dead body!”

Moose Boy cracked his knuckles. “That can be arranged…”

“We’re rescuing the patients,” Otterman informed him angrily, “I know all of these people have been experimented on! It’s over MJ, this lab is going down!”

Michael stared at him with wide eyes. Were the Volkovs attacking the lab just to get Mime Bomb back?! Could they really destroy Vess’ lab? Were the Volkovs that powerful or did they have more allies than he realized? Michael knew everything Vess had worked for was in jeopardy, and he panicked. He had to tell Vess about this right away! 

Michael then looked down at the little girl in his arms and was conflicted. Did he abandon DD to warn Vess, or did he save her and leave the lab to be destroyed? If it was the Volkovs attacking, he assumed they’d be satisfied with taking back Mime Bomb and wouldn’t harm the rest of Vess’ work. He really hoped he was making the right decision and he stood firm and adjusted his grip on DD.

“I’m getting her to a hospital and I don’t trust her near anyone I don’t know!” MJ snapped, “Numa doesn’t know I’m doing this and I’ll be damned if I let you stop me now!”

Otterman squinted at him skeptically. “Are you actually telling the truth?” he asked in surprise, “Are you helping patients escape?”

Michael flushed and averted his gaze. “I love Numa but I don’t always agree with everything he does. I don’t want Diana to die. I’m meeting Vess’ sister who arranged to take her to a children’s hospital in Moscow.”

Otterman stared at Michael and the sincerity he saw in the boy’s eyes took him by surprise. Suddenly DD shifted in Michael’s arms and she opened her eyes tiredly.

“Mikey?” she whispered.

“I’m here, Diana,” he told her softly.

“I don’t feel good, Mikey, my belly hurts.”

Michael gently rubbed her belly and her face screwed up in pain. She didn’t cry however and reached up to wrap her arms around his neck.

“I’m taking you somewhere to get better,” Michael promised her, “You’re going to get well, and then you’ll find a nice family to adopt you. Everything is going to be okay.”

“Mikey...I’m scared,” DD whispered.

Michael ran his fingers through her hair gently and within seconds she was back asleep. Otterman had seen and heard everything and it was clear DD trusted Michael completely. The tenderness he showed her seemed genuine and Otterman felt conflicted. Could he really trust Michael with a child after he’d betrayed them all? Was there more to Michael than he realized?

Otterman knew it was going to get extremely dangerous inside the lab, and this was no place for a sick child. The patients were going to be left on the bus until they could be rescued but DD didn’t look like she would survive it. Hoping he wasn’t making a terrible mistake, Otterman stepped aside, and Moose Boy did the same looking very confused.

“Take her, but you’d better be telling the truth, MJ, or I swear I’ll let Henrik break every bone in your body.”

Michael gave him a hesitant nod and then edged past them into the hallway. He then took off at a run, knowing he had to get DD out of this lab before it was too late.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The helicopter landed on the roof of the lab as dozens of men parachuted down from above. Matryoshka watched the ground below, but to her surprise, no one from the lab seemed to have noticed their arrival. If no one was paying attention, then that meant their attention was elsewhere. Team Red and Team Crackle were likely already on the attack inside. V.I.L.E dared take a Volkov and she and Plague Doctor were furious. Matryoshka knew there was no way the lab was surviving this raid.

Glancing down at her com, she sent a quick message to Otterman, wanting to make sure it was alright for them to enter. She didn’t have to wait long, and he confirmed they’d already cut the power in the building and he was rescuing patients.

[[Dmitry, Sven’s team are already inside. Our mission is to take down the V.I.L.E guards and help locate Yuri. I need you to-]]

Matryoshka cut off when she looked up and saw she was by herself in the helicopter. Glancing outside, she saw the roof door wide open.

[[Dammit, Dmitry!]] Matryoshka snarled.

Grabbing her gun, she hopped out of the helicopter and then ran for the door, knowing her brother was likely already putting his scythe to use. She’d promised her daughter they’d do their best not to kill anyone, but Plague Doctor had made no such promise.

Plague Doctor walked through dark halls, feeling angrier than he’d ever been before. First V.I.L.E took Alexei away from him, and now they were trying to take Alexei’s son. He still remembered how small and how scared Mime Bomb was the day he was rescued from the lab. The boy had been twelve years old, but he’d been small and very thin. Dmitry had instantly loved that little boy, and it had taken him days just to make him smile. They travelled together for two weeks before meeting up with Alexei, and Mime Bomb had been such a sweet and gentle child. 

When he met Mime Bomb for the first time after ten years, he could still see the shy little boy inside him. Mime Bomb’s eyes were sad and a little bit tired, but there was a familiar spark of mischievousness within them. Plague Doctor wished his family could be whole again, but his brothers were long dead, and he was damaged. The most he could do was save his nephew and hope he got a better life than the previous generation.

Plague Doctor’s eyes fell on a group of guards approaching down the hallway.

“What the hell?!” one of the men exclaimed in surprise, “Who’s that?!”

“I have no idea!” someone else said.

“Maybe he or she’s an operative?” a third guard guessed.

The guard’s began approaching him and Plague Doctor stopped walking.

“Code name?” the first guard barked at him.

Plague Doctor cocked his head.

“Code name!” the man repeated.

Plague Doctor began walking forward with purpose and the guards quickly exchange alarmed looks.

“I...I don’t think this guy is with V.I.L.E…”

“Stop!” one of the guard’s ordered, “Identify yourself, or we’ll be forced to shoot!”

Plague Doctor pressed a button on his staff and the two blades extended into place. He now held his double-headed scythe tightly and the guards began drawing their weapons. Without pause, Plague Doctor slashed out with his scythe and the guards began screaming in pain and terror. Plague Doctor slashed mercilessly, and the cries quickly went silent. Ignoring the massacre around him, Plague Doctor stepped over the bodies and continued on his way.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Vess muttered angrily to himself the entire time he re-sanitized the operating room. Doctor Bellum was chatting with him as he did so and Mime Bomb was forced to listen to them discuss all the things they wanted to test once Vess had dissected him. 

“We’ll of course need to drain his blood and preserve it,” Vess stated, “I want to study his DNA extensively to see how it was altered.”

“I’d like a portion of his brain to study,” Doctor Bellum replied, “I never got a chance to study the patients from the original lab, and I’m incredibly fascinated.”

“Of course,” Vess said, “You’ll have access to everything. His liver is likely full of interesting chemicals from the experiments, and I’m eager to test it.”

“I’m assuming he wasn’t old enough to get the shots to strengthen his bones and organs?”

“He was twelve when the lab was destroyed and he likely didn’t start that procedure. It was imperative that the child reach puberty before the first shot be given.”

“And he’s too old now?” Bellum questioned.

“Oh yes, far too old,” Vess answered, “The shot is activated by the growth hormones associated with puberty and would be ineffective in adults.”

“By studying the buildup within his eyes and brain, you’ll be able to replicate the vaccine given to him, but not any of the others?”

Vess hesitated. “It’s like a gateway,” he responded, “Once I study one type, I’ll know how to unlock the others. It won’t take me long to figure out the other vaccines.”

“Excellent,” Bellum praised, “I can’t wait to take my samples!”

They talked about Mime Bomb like he was a piece of office furniture, and he couldn’t believe someone could do this. Doctor Bellum taught him for over a year and he’d had tons of dealings with her since. Did she really feel nothing at all towards him?

Doctor Bellum calmly sipped her cup of tea from the far side of the room, and Mime Bomb stared at her, hoping to see even a sliver of regret. He saw the same hungry look in her eyes identical to Vess’, and Mime Bomb knew there was going to be no compassion there.

When Vess was finally done disinfecting the entire room, he then once again disinfected Mime Bomb. Mime Bomb was now starting to get really nervous and glanced towards the door, wondering where his team was. 

“I’ll start by shaving his head,” Vess informed Bellum, “I don’t want to be messing with that during surgery.”

“Do you have your equipment all prepared to record the dissection?” Doctor Bellum demanded.

Vess nodded, and pointed to several machines surrounding him. “Eight cameras from all different angles as well as heart monitors and several other machines that monitor the vital organs. Nothing will be missed during this procedure.”

“As adept as always, Numa,” Doctor Bellum praised, “Prepared to have yourself elevated within V.I.L.E. This is incredibly impressive and I have great expectations for you.”

Vess simply nodded, and knew it was now his time to shine. Everything in his life was finally coming together. His experiments would soon be successful, he was getting promoted, and he was marrying the man he loved. It finally felt like all the hard work and pain was worth it.

Vess picked up a straight razor and approached Mime Bomb who stared up at him with worried eyes. Vess ignored him and grabbed a large handful of Mime Bomb’s thick red hair. Just as he was bringing the razor down to cut it, the lights went out.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Vess snarled, “**Now** what?!”

“Your lab hasn’t been upkept very well,” Doctor Bellum commented, “First the gate and now the lights.”

Although he couldn’t see her, Vess glared in her general direction. The backup generator started a moment later, and Vess set aside the straight razor. 

“I’m going to go see what the problem is. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.”

Bellum nodded and drained the rest of her tea. Once he was gone, she glanced over at Mime Bomb.

“Well, I suppose **you’re** not complaining,” she commented.

Mime Bomb gave her a flat look.

“It’s a shame you turned traitor and ended up being the Volkov experiment. I found it highly amusing to have a mime in V.I.L.E.”

Mime Bomb glowered at her. 

Bellum stretched and then pulled her com out of her pocket. “...no signal,” she observed with a thoughtful look, “What is going on in this lab today?”

Frowning in concern, she got to her feet and headed for the door, hoping to catch up with Vess.

“Stay put,” Bellum teased as she left the room.

Mime Bomb rolled his eyes at her, and the moment she was gone, and he began yanking at his restraints. He now knew his team was here and he just needed to somehow get loose! Mime Bomb pulled and pulled until his arms hurt, but the straps were too strong. Frustrated beyond belief, he knew he was trapped until someone found him.

There was the sound of gunfire from the hallways and Mime Bomb’s eyes widened in concern. Hoping no one got shot, he waited, barely daring to breath. When the door suddenly opened, he tensed at the sight of two guards entering alone. 

He relaxed however when he recognized their voices as they bickered about whether this was the right room. 

“He’s here!” Zack cried out in relief, “He’s alive!”

Zack rushed over to him as Ivy averted her gaze to give him a bit of modesty. Zack unfastened all the straps holding him down and then threw his arms around him tightly.

“You had me so worried!” Zack said, “I’m so sorry, buddy! I’m sorry!”

Mime Bomb hugged him back and simply sobbed in relief, clutching Zack to him as tightly as he could.

“Come on, we gotta get you out of here!” Zack told him, pulling away, “You can wear this uniform!”

Zack began stripping off the guard’s uniform revealing he was wearing his usual jeans and sport’s jersey underneath. He tossed the uniform at Mime Bomb who quickly got dressed, glad to finally be wearing something. Now that he was decent, Ivy turned around and threw her arms around him in a crushing hug.

“You really worried me, you jerk,” she told him, “Don’t scare me like that again.”

“Yeah man, you get kidnapped more than Princess Peach!” Zack commented.

Mime Bomb lightly punched Zack in the arm who laughed and stepped away from him.

“Come on, buddy, let’s get out of here!” he said, putting the helmet on him.

Mime Bomb hurriedly nodded and they ran for the door, all three just wanting to make it out of the lab unharmed. 

When they stepped out of the operating room, they were horrified to see bodies as far as they could see down the hallway, most of them in pieces scattered around. Organs were strewn about everywhere, and all three felt their stomachs turn. The stench of blood hung heavily in the air, and every wall and even the ceiling was covered in splatters of red.

“Oh my god!” Ivy exclaimed, slapping a hand to her mouth as she gagged, “These guys were alive just a minute ago! What happened?! We didn’t do this!”

The horror around them made their blood run cold, and Zack looked like he was about to pass out. They knew no one from Team Red or Team Crackle would have done this and that meant someone else was here.

None of them had ever seen anything like this, and it looked like the guards had all simply exploded into pieces.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Ivy repeated over and over, “Who did this?!”

“I dunno, but we gotta get out of here before we find out!” Zack said, his tone terrified. 

They ran down the hallway, jumping and dodging around the bodies that were absolutely everywhere, leaving red footprints behind them. They rounded corner after corner and finally they were away from the massacre. As they ran towards the main entrance, they suddenly they heard someone call out to them.

“Yuri!”

Mime Bomb abruptly stopped and he glanced around for the source of the call. He saw Siren peering out of one of the rooms in the hallway, the other man looking incredibly frazzled. Mime Bomb grinned widely and ran for him, throwing his arms open wide. Siren didn’t hesitate to throw himself into that hug and he let out a laugh of pure relief.

“I’m glad you remembered me,” Siren told him, “I’ve been alone for **so** long…”

“Siren?” Ivy exclaimed in surprise.

“Hello,” Siren replied, not even sparing her a glance, “Are you taking Yuri out of this hellhole?”

“Wow, you are **way** shorter than I was expecting!” Zack exclaimed without thinking.

Siren scowled at him but didn’t respond.

Ivy clapped Siren on the back hard enough to make him wince. “Yeah, our part of the mission was finding Yuri and getting him out of the lab as fast as possible. We’re leaving now.”

“Good,” Siren said, finally pulling out of Mime Bomb’s arms, “Take care of him for me.”

Ivy stared at the small man and knew he was likely useless in a fight. What do you mean?” she demanded, “Aren’t you coming with us?” she demanded.

Siren shook his head. “I have a mission of my own,” he replied, thinking of DD, “Get Yuri out of here and I’ll meet you outside as soon as I can.”

Mime Bomb shook his head and grabbed Siren’s hand. Siren shook his head again and pulled away.

“No, I’ll be fine, trust me. I’ll see you soon, stay safe.”

With that, Siren turned and ran down the opposite hallway away from them. They watched him go and Mime Bomb seemed like he wanted to follow after him. Zack wasn’t going to allow him to however, and he took his hand and began pulling him away. Mime Bomb gave one last look in the direction Siren had gone and then followed after Zack and Ivy.

They made turn after turn and they were almost to the doors when they bumped into the last person they were expecting. Michael skidded to a halt at the sight of them, and he tightened his hold on DD protectively.

“You son of a bitch!” Zack snarled surging forward to punch him.

Ivy yanked him back before he could touch him. “Bro, he’s holding a kid!”

Michael stared between Zack and Ivy and then his gaze went to Mime Bomb. He instantly felt awkward and angry and averted his gaze.

“Yuri?” he questioned.

Mime Bomb’s whole body was stiff with absolute fury and he stepped to block Michael’s way.

Michael let out an angry curse. Everything was going to absolute shit. The lab was under attack and Michael had no idea where Vess was. He needed to find him before someone tried to hurt him. Vess was just a doctor, and there’s no way he could defend himself against trained fighters. He **needed** Michael.

Michael stared at his cousin and knew there was no way the other boy would allow a child to die. His cousin worked with the self-proclaimed ‘heroes’ and DD would be safe with him. Hesitantly olding out DD in his arms, he took a step towards Mime Bomb.

“Take her,” he ordered, “She needs to get to a hospital as soon as possible.”

“Wait, what?” Zack exclaimed in surprise.

“Her name is Diana Devineaux, and she’s five years old. Help her and **prove** you guys are the hero you claim to be.”

Mime Bomb stared at him long and hard and then reached out to take the child.

“Diana Devineaux?!?!” Ivy cried out, “This is Chase’s kid?!”

Zack simply stared in shock, knowing they had to get this child as far away from V.I.L.E as possible. Mime Bomb stared hatefully at Michael but knew this wasn’t the time nor the place to deal with this. The moment Michael relinquished his hold on DD, he touched her head gently in goodbye and then turned and fled down one of the hallways.

He had to find Vess and make sure he was safe! Michael had no idea where to look and so he headed towards Vess’ lab. He saw a large crowd of guards ahead of him and he ran straight for them. The men were all just standing very **very** still and Michael shoved his way through them. When he reached the front of the crowd, he saw what had caused them to stop.

A man dressed as a Plague Doctor was standing there blocking the way. He held a double-sided scythe that was dripping in blood and he was staring straight at them.

“What the hell is **that**?!” Michael demanded.

“Open Fire!” one of the guards yelled out.

Before they even had time to draw their weapons, Plague Doctor surged forward and lashed out with his scythe. Michael dropped to the floor by pure instinct and the scythe skimmed right over his head, cutting into the men behind him. Plague Doctor spun and stabbed the scythe expertly and within seconds Michael was completely surrounded by body parts. Michael stared upwards at Plague Doctor in shock and ever so slowly Plague Doctor looked down at him. Michael's eyes widened in fear and he began breathing hard as fast and Plague Doctor pulled the scythe up over his head to deliver a killing blow.

Plague Doctor stared at the boy at his feet and realized he looked somehow familiar. He hesitated for a moment and squinted down at him, trying to place his face. Plague Doctor suddenly realized who Michael looked like and he slowly knelt down beside him. Tipping Michael’s chin up using the scythe, he stared at him long and hard.

“D-Don’t!” Michael begged, “Please don’t!”

Plague Doctor ignored him and studied Michael’s face carefully, a similar face from his memories coming to mind.

“...Catherine,” Plague Doctor quietly whispered.

Michael hesitated, this being the last thing he expected the man to say.

“Catherine?” Michael repeated, “That’s my mother!”

Plague Doctor stared at Michael’s dark hair, his complexion, and finally the chain around the boy’s neck. Reaching out, he pulled the chain out of the shirt and stared at the Volkov pendant. Plague Doctor now knew exactly who Michael was and he hurriedly stepped away from him. He stared at him for a moment longer and then turned and left down the hallway without another word.

Michael was still gasping in fear as he stared after Plague Doctor with wide eyes. Once he was gone, Michael finally voiced his thoughts.

“What the **fuck** was that?” 

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Doctor Bellum stepped over a body and stared at the fight in front of her. Having no desire to get involved in that, she instead entered one of the labs, intending on cutting her way through the building to leave. It was obvious to her the lab would not survive this attack, and she wanted nothing to do with it.

Crossing the massive lab, she paused at the sight of Dash in the room. She stared at him in silence for a moment and realized he was strapping explosives to the main supports of the building.

“Dash Haber…” she greeted.

Dash froze and slowly turned around to face her.

“A true traitor,” she observed, “I suppose my dear boy Crackle is also here somewhere?”

Dash said nothing and removed his hat, knowing he was likely going to end up fighting. Doctor Bellum was incredibly tiny and he had no doubts that he could overpower her in physical strength. She far outmatched him in intelligence however.

She reached into her pocket and put on what looked like a pair of metal gloves. She flexed her fingers, and the gloves lit up like a computer terminal.

“What are you doing?” Dash demanded.

“You’ll see,” Bellum responded, adjusting her goggles slightly.

Dash narrowed his eyes and glanced around the room. There didn’t seem to be anything she could use as a weapon and so he had the current advantage.

“Surrender and I won’t hurt you,” Dash promised.

Bellum snorted and didn’t respond.

Dash activated his hat and the saw blades extended, ready to be thrown. Bellum still didn’t seem worried and he hesitated. It seemed cowardly to attack someone so much smaller than him, and he once again tried to reason with her.

“You won’t be harmed if you just agree to surrender. You’ve lost and there’s no point in dragging this out longer than it has to.”

“Words, Dash Haber, pointless words.”

Dash gave her an unimpressed look. “Fine, have it your way. I’m going to saw that mohawk right off your head!”

Dash threw his hat straight at Bellum and suddenly there was a deafening crash and the room filled full of dust. Raising a hand to his mouth, Dash coughed and squinted through the clouds, trying to see what happened. As the dust began to clear, his eyes widened when he saw a giant round ball sitting in front of Bellum. His hat had bounced harmlessly off it, and Dash had no idea what he was looking at.

“This is my little project that I’ve been working on for the last few years,” Bellum said proudly, “Dash Haber, meet the BastardBall!”

Dash wrinkled his nose in distaste and said nothing.

“Oh, you don’t like him?” Bellum demanded with a knowing smirk.

“It’s wonderful,” Dash replied sarcastically, summoning his hat back to him.

“BastardBall has many talents, and you unfortunately are **outclassed**.”

Dash was instantly offended and he knew Bellum was going down one way or another. He threw his hat at her as fast as he could and the robot’s sides suddenly opened and two smaller balls came out, one smashing Dash’s hat into the floor with enough force to shatter it. Dash stared with wide eyes as the two smaller balls then shifted and long spikes came out of them. 

Almost faster than he could see, they suddenly shot straight for him, and Dash was only saved by his lightning fast reflexes. Dash knew he needed help with this and he reached a hand up to his ear as he ran for cover.

“Anyone there?” he demanded into his com.

“What’s up, Dashie? I’m just laying the last explosive now,” Neal responded.

“I need backup immediately! Bellum has some sort of killer robot! Everyone who’s available, please help me now, and I mean **everyone**.”

“Sure thing, I got your location,” Neal informed him, “I’m on my way!”

“Me too,” said Tigress, “Hold on, Dash!”

“Jean Paul and I are done damaging the supports in our area and we’re on our way to help you, Dash!” El Topo said.

“Chase and I are coming!” Julia said, “Don’t worry, Dash, we’re all coming for you!”

Dash dodged as one of the balls smashed into the ground right where he’d been crouching, and he ran for the next cover, hoping the others wouldn’t take long.

“It’s pointless to keep fighting,” Bellum informed him, “Bastardball was created for the sole purpose of assisting Vess’ army when it comes time for war. You don’t stand a chance against it!”

Dash watched how Bellum’s hands gently waved around like she was directing an orchestra and knew her gloves were similar to his own. She was directing all movements of the bots, and therefore there was the possibility of her making a mistake. As Dash ran and dodged, he saw Neal slipping out of a vent just behind Bellum.

Neal snuck up behind her and just as he was about to strike her, one of the balls caught Neal in the shoulder. Neal’s eyes widened as the spikes stabbed deeply into his arm and he felt the bone shatter on impact.

“Neal!” Dash cried out.

Neal clutched his damaged arm and leapt away just in time to avoid the second ball from taking off his head.

“I have excellent peripheral vision,” Bellum informed them, tapping her rounded goggles, “You won’t get the drop on me from behind.”

“I’m okay, Dash!” Neal called over, running for cover.

Before Dash even had time to respond, Tigress leapt from above straight at Bellum, claws fully extended. One of the balls zoomed straight for her, but she flipped her whole body in the air to avoid it and then clawed Bellum directly across the chest. Tigress then leapt away before Bellum had time to retaliate, and she ran to check on Neal.

“You will pay for that!” Bellum hissed, touching one of her hands to her bleeding chest.

“Not likely,” Tigress shot back rudely, “You’re washed up, you old hag!”

Bellum’s expression darkened, and she squeezed her hands into fists, making the gloves glow red. Bastardball suddenly grew limbs and began crawling on the ground straight towards Tigress. Once it neared, it shot a laser that cut deeply into the stone right about Tigress’ head.

Tigress let out a curse and dove behind a column just as it shot at her again. Neal was on the move and he ran for Bellum, knowing they had to take her down in order to defeat the bots. Dash saw what Neal was doing and charged forward as well, trying to split Bellum’s defense. With the three bots, they couldn’t get near, and both had to retreat as lasers shot straight at them.

Le Chèvre suddenly appeared out of nowhere and kicked one of the smaller bots straight into Bellum. She blocked the hit using the gloves and it was clear the force had almost broken her wrists. She grimaced from the pain and then flexed her fingers, sending the bots directly at Le Chèvre. A spiked bot shot towards Le Chèvre and he ducked just in time, but there was no way for him to dodge the second one. His eyes widened in alarm as the bot came straight towards his head, and that’s when El Topo lunged forward, swiping at the bot with his powerful claws.

There was a flash of sparks as metal met metal and El Topo’s powerful arms overpowered the bot and smashed it into the ground. He then clawed and pounded on it until the bot shattered into pieces. El Topo’s expression was pure rage and he turned a vicious gaze on the two remaining bots. Le Chèvre gave his partner a brief smile and then he nimbly jumped back to his feet and once again charged for Bellum.

Lasers aimed for Le Chèvre and he had no choice but to retreat to the rafters. The large bot opened and two more small bots flew out, both shooting straight for the rafters. Neal was judging the distance between his hiding spot and Bellum, trying to figure out how to take her down. He caught Dash’s gaze and he gave him a reassuring smile when he saw the worry in the other man’s eyes. Dash had no long-range weapons that could be used, and so he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out two brass knuckles. 

Keeping an eye on all four bots was proving to be a challenge and everyone found they were doing more dodging than attacking. 

Chase burst in through the door with Julia and he didn’t even hesitate to throw himself in the fight. Chase was slow and cumbersome, but he was strong, and he found himself paired with Julia who was incredibly fast on her feet. They perfectly balanced each other out and kept a close eye on the other as they tried taking the bots down.

Now with seven people fighting against the bots, Bellum was using more and more lasers in an attempt to even the odds. Deep gashes covered every wall and it didn’t escape anyone’s notice that the support beams in the room were starting to bow.

Dash’s gaze was on the explosives he’d fastened to various places around the room, and he knew it was only a matter of time before one of the lasers hit one. He doubted any of them would survive a cave-in, and he hoped Bellum wouldn’t do anything crazy.

Dash was slowly getting closer and closer to Bellum, just waiting for his chance to take a swing at her. Bellum wasn’t stupid and she was keeping careful track of everyone in the room. The bots spun around her to create a forcefield of spikes and Dash couldn’t see an opening. Neal did however, and he threw himself down to the ground and slid underneath the bots and kicked Bellum’s feet out from under her. 

Bellum let out a cry of surprise and he instinctively slapped her hands to the ground to catch herself, briefly forgetting about the gloves. The bots shot in all directions wildly shooting their lasers, and just as feared, a laser hit one of the explosives. The entire room was red with fire and heat and the boom shook the entire building. Chunks of concrete fell from all directions and everyone dodged the best they could.

Fire and a thick cloud of dust was absolutely everywhere and it was spreading quickly thanks to the accelerant Neal had spread throughout every vent. Everyone was bloody and bruised as they crawled out of the rubble, but luckily no one was dead. 

Le Chèvre began gasping and choking from the smoke, his lungs immediately seizing up. El Topo quickly carried his partner to safety and pulled an inhaler out of his pocket. Le Chèvre took several deep puffs from the inhaler and slowly his breathing began to normalize.

“Are you alright, mi amor?” El Topo whispered.

Le Chèvre nodded and kissed him on the cheek. “Yes, thanks to you, mon amour.”

Chase suddenly rolled out of the way as one of the out of control bots smashed into the ground right beside him and there was no sign of Bellum. Chase pulled Julia back to her feet and then helped the others who were still partially buried. Chase’s gaze fell on Dash’s iron knuckles and he picked them up, not seeing Dash anywhere.

There was a sharp cry of pain and Tigress fell to the ground as one of the bots slammed into her. Blood began pouring from her side and she clapped a hand to the wound as she fell.

“Sheena!” El Topo cried out, running for her without hesitation.

“Antonio, watch out!” Le Chèvre bellowed out, and El Topo rolled to one side just as the large bot slammed down into the ground. 

El Topo grabbed Tigress up and he ran for cover behind a large pile of concrete. Tigress was still conscious, but it was clear she was severely wounded. No one else could get near to check on her because of the out of control bots, and suddenly a pile of rubble began to move.

Bellum crawled her way out of the concrete with a choking gasp, bloodied and with cracked goggles.

She laid there struggling to breathe and a stray laser suddenly came straight for her face. Tilting her head with lightning fast reflexes, the laser burned through one of her ears, and Bellum let out a loud curse. Shaking her hands to reboot the gloves, the bots fell to the ground lifeless all around them.

Seeing their opportunity, everyone began attacking the bots before they could turn back on. The small bots were quickly destroyed, but the main bot blinked back on before any damage was done to it.

“You’re not going to win this!” Bellum snarled out furiously, “Bastardball, self-destruct!”

There was no hesitation whatsoever as Chase suddenly lunged forward and drove his fist into Bellum’s stomach as hard as he could, the iron knuckles glinting in the dim light. Chase had boxed all his life and his hits were precise and incredibly powerful. There was the loud sound of cracking ribs, and Bellum gasped in pain and fell to the ground, no longer able to stand. As she went to flex her gloves, Julia stabbed a piece of rebar straight through Bellum’s hand, pinning it to the ground.

Bellum let out a cry of pure agony and Julia quickly yanked off Bellum’s other glove. Bellum was down, but she had already given the order to the bot.

Bastardball was blinking red and as they watched, the blinking got faster and faster.

“We need to get out of here!” Neal yelled.

“Run!” Julia agreed, “Everyone run!”

Chase reached down, grabbed Bellum and tossed her over his shoulder as they ran for the door, having no idea how massive this explosion was going to be. El Topo carried Tigress, and Dash helped support Neal who had clearly broken his leg. They ran down the outside hallway and just seconds later, there was such a massive explosion, the floor crumbling behind them as half the compound collapsed in on itself. Fire was absolutely everywhere and everyone placed their shirts over their noses to protect their lungs from the thick black smoke.

“Carmen, we took down Bellum,” Le Chèvre stated, speaking into his com, “We’re headed outside now, how are things going on your end?”

“Little busy here,” Carmen responded, sounding out of breath, “Can’t talk!”

“You need help?” Chase demanded.

“No,” Carmen responded, “Get out of the building. We’ll be there soon!”

Everyone exchanged a concerned look with one another and then they headed for the main exit. By the time they reached the doors, their eyes were burning from the smoke and their clothes were singed. 

They were met with the sight of Otterman and Moose Boy with an entire bus full of patients. They rushed over to help the moment they noticed them, and they helped them get on the bus out of the cold.

As Otterman grabbed the first aid kit, El Topo glanced around the bus at all the unfamiliar faces. “Where are Zack, Ivy and Mime Bomb?” he demanded.

“Over there,” he answered.

Otterman pointed and for the first time they noticed dozens upon dozens of black vans all around the complex. They could see the three redheads speaking with Chief and they realized A.C.M.E had come to help with the takedown. Zack glanced over at the bus and when he saw them watching, his eyes widened. He said something to Chief and then ran towards them, a wild and scared look in his eyes. Once he neared, Otterman gave him a concerned look.

“Zack, what’s wrong?”

“Chase, you gotta come with us, right now!” Zack said, reaching for Chase’s arm.

“What?” Chase questioned in confusion.

“We don’t have time, you need to come now!”

“What’s going on?” Julia demanded, “Why do you need Chase?”

“We found your daughter, Chase,” Zack said, his expression still frantic, “We found Diana, but she’s hurt badly and A.C.M.E is airlifting her to a hospital.”

Chase felt like his heart had just stopped. Zack’s words crashed over him, and then his mind repeated them several times, trying to understand it. Dozens of emotions hit him all at once and he stared at Zack with wide eyes.

“D...Diana?” he repeated.

“Yes, and you need to come now if you want to go with her!” Zack cried out, once again tugging Chase’s arm.

Chase started walking towards the helicopter feeling like he was in a daze and then he began running. He ran faster than he ever had before and he didn’t so much spare Ivy and Mime Bomb a glance as he crawled into the helicopter. 

Chase’s gaze fell on a stretcher and there was a little girl strapped in, seemingly asleep. He could immediately see she was Asian mixed race, and she looked so much like his wife that a sob tore its way through his throat. He stared at the girl and he could see himself in her with her strong nose and large brow. There was no doubt in his mind at this point. This was his daughter. His daughter was alive.

The helicopter doors were closed and someone spoke to him, but he didn’t hear it. All that he cared about was this little girl. Nothing else in the whole world mattered. Reaching out with shaking hands, he ran his fingers through her long dark hair, feeling like this was some sort of cruel dream. When the helicopter began to shake as it was turned on, the girl slowly opened her eyes. Her eyes were glassy at first but then they slowly focused on Chase.

Chase wiped the tears from his eyes and gave her a smile. “Bonjour, Diana, je suis ton papa,” he whispered.

Diana’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “W-what?” she asked weakly.

“I’m your daddy, Diana,” Chase repeated in English, “And I’ve missed you so **so** much!”

Diana squinted at him a bit skeptically but was too weak to question it. “I don’t feel so good…” she slowly responded.

“Don’t worry, you’re going to be just fine,” Chase assured her, very carefully wrapping his arms around her, “Nothing is ever going to hurt you, not while I’m around.”

Diana slowly closed her eyes, a gentle smile on her lips. Siren was right, and she really **did** get her Christmas wish.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Siren was surrounded by gunfire and blood, but he kept running, doing his best not to look. He had to get to DD and then he had to destroy all of Vess’ research. Once he was sure V.I.L.E could never do this again, he could finally leave this lab and leave V.I.L.E far behind. DD had been getting worse by the day and now she was barely ever awake. If he got her to a hospital today, he felt certain the doctors would be able to save her.

Siren ran past a man dressed as a Plague Doctor and ducked below the scythe that he swung, barely slowing down. The Plague Doctor turned to stare after him, but he didn’t pursue. As Siren ran along, there was suddenly a deafening BOOM and the walls and floor shook all around him. He fell to the floor hard but was already scrambling to his feet before the shaking had even stopped. Making it to the stairwell, Siren came to an abrupt halt. The stairwell was caved in and there was a massive crater where the floors above had collapsed inwards. Flames were spreading absolutely everywhere and Siren fell down to his knees. The patient rooms were under several tons of concrete and rubble and there was no chance anyway had survived, especially not with the flames. 

Siren clutched at his head with a wail and curled into a small ball. It was happening all over again. He couldn’t save the patients and everyone had died. Everyone was burning. DD was burning. Agony shot through Siren’s mind as he remembered everything from the first fire in excruciating detail. The children were all screaming as they burned, and the scent of blood and death was all around him. Kevin had shielded him from the gunfire and he had died protecting him. Siren remembered Kevin’s cheeky smile and his kind blue eyes, and he remembered the dullness that entered those eyes as life left them.

Siren began to rock back and forth as he screamed and screamed in terror.

“Kevin!” Siren wailed out loudly, “Kevin!”

No one came and Siren curled up tighter, echoes of children dying in his ears. He couldn’t handle this a second time, he was certain he wouldn’t survive it. Siren felt like his mind was cracking apart and he screamed as he felt the fog rushing in. 

His mind dulled and Siren felt nothing at all. He sat there for a few moments longer and then slowly looked up.

Sitting there in the bloody hallway, Siren began to hum to himself, glancing around without comprehension. Rocking and humming, he could feel everything bad starting to slip away from him until all that was left was his song. Humming a bit louder, Siren reached into the pocket of his lab coat and pulled out a scalpel. He stared at the shining blade and then carefully got to his feet. 

As Siren began walking away down the hallway, his humming turned into very quiet singing. Tapping the scalpel along the wall as he walked, Siren’s mind felt like it was beginning to spin out of control. Around and around the fog went, a tornado of confusion and emptiness spinning throughout his mind. He could still feel the pain, but now he didn’t understand it. He didn’t want to feel anything at all, and he allowed the fog to completely take him, spinning along with it as he walked along. 

Siren’s song echoed throughout the empty halls and few people were still alive to hear it. He felt compelled to go a certain direction and so he walked and spun without reservation. He had no idea why it was so important he head this way, but he didn’t question it and simply surrendered to the unknown. 

Siren passed by The Plague Doctor who stared at him long and hard as he sang, and he stepped aside to let him pass. Plague Doctor was covered in blood and he clenched the scythe tightly, but he made no move to attack the smaller man. He recognized Siren, and remembered how he had saved Mime Bomb all those years ago, and Plague Doctor wondered if he would lead him to his nephew. He watched Siren make his way down the hallway, and then began following behind him at a distance.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Vess was in the direct center of pure chaos. Void soldiers were absolutely everywhere, and the V.I.L.E guards were shooting completely erratically. Vess was never one to risk his safety unnecessarily and so he hung back and went around the fights when possible. No one seemed to pay much attention to the seemingly unarmed doctor, focusing on the guards instead. He had to make it back to Mime Bomb before it was too late and he put out an alert demanding all guards head for the O.R immediately to defend the patient.

Vess cut through back offices to avoid everyone and several times a bullet zipped by a little too close for comfort. Hoping Michael had the sense to stay in the apartment where it was safe, Vess slowly made his way back through the building. Vess didn’t realize he was being followed, and he slipped into the O.R, unknowingly cornering himself. 

Vess’ gaze fell on the empty table and he let out a furious curse, knowing he was too late. The mime was gone and it would be nearly impossible to get him back at this point. Vess kicked over a cart of medical supplies causing a massive crash that did little to improve his mood.

“What’s the matter, Vess, lose something?” a teasing voice said from behind him.

Vess spun around and was met with the sight of Carmen and Shadowsan blocking the doorway. He froze for only a fraction of a moment before he jumped into action and pulled his gun out of his belt. He fired it without hesitation and Carmen barely got out of the way in time. Rolling behind a cart, a bullet bounced off its surface close enough that she felt the heat of it as it passed her face. 

As Vess took a shot at Shadowsan, he tried to position himself so he could take a run for the door. He knew he was no match for either of them so the only option he had was to get lucky with a shot, or to retreat.

Carmen rolled out from her cover and charged for Vess who fired at her again and again, forcing her to keep her distance. Shadowsan’s eyes were as cold as ice, and there was no way he was letting Vess escape. Not this time. He charged from the other side of the room, but Vess was fast and turned the gun on the older man in an instant.

The gun went off and Vess’ eyes widened in surprise when Shadowsan didn’t so much as falter. Shadowsan snatched the gun out of Vess’ hand before he could take another shot and slammed a fist directly into the doctor’s face. Vess was knocked backwards over the fallen cart and he winced as his arm twisted painfully under him.

Shadowsan tossed the gun aside and began slowly approaching Vess, his eyes narrowed to slits. Vess’ hand found a fallen scalpel on the floor and he slashed out at Shadowsan viciously, aiming for the femoral artery. Shadowsan was faster and he leapt backwards, the blade barely grazing his leg. Vess lashed out again however, and this time he hit his mark and sliced cleanly through the brachial artery. Blood sprayed from the wound and Shadowsan instantly clapped a hand over his arm to staunch the bleeding.

Vess rolled and threw himself forward, scalpel aimed to slit Shadowsan’s throat. Carmen kicked Vess solidly in the side, knocking him back to the floor. He immediately turned on her and sliced across her stomach leaving a shallow cut the whole way across. Carmen’s response to that was to drive her boot directly into Vess’ crotch as hard as she could. Vess gasped in absolute agony and he immediately crumpled to the floor, snarling every curse he knew.

“Just give yourself up, Vess,” Carmen ordered, checking to make sure Shadowsan was alright, “You can’t win this.”

Vess snarled the worst insult he could at her in Arabic and glared up at her with hate-filled eyes.

“Your lab is destroyed, your men are almost all arrested, and Mime Bomb is long gone from here. You’ve **lost**.”

Vess clenched his fists in pure rage and said nothing.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Carmen said, softening her tone a bit, “I truly believe you need help, and once you’re in custody you can finally get it. You’re sick, Vess and you need help. You’ve done so many horrible things but it’s not too late for you.”

Vess clenched his teeth tightly against the pain and slowly struggled back to his feet. He stared at Carmen with narrowed eyes and wondered if she was truly this stupid. His expression became troubled and he let out a deep sigh.

“I never meant it to go this far…” Vess lied carefully.

Carmen narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?” she demanded.

“I never meant to take part in such awful experiments,” Vess clarified.

Carmen scowled at him angrily. “You were responsible for **everything**!” she pointed out, “You chose to pursue the Volkov experiments, and you’re the one to blame for all of this!”

“I can’t deny that,” Vess admitted, raising a hand to his face, “I’ve done monstrous things, and this lab is an abomination.”

Carmen’s expression softened a bit. “Well, at least you **know** you need to be stopped,” she stated.

Vess nodded slowly.

“I wasn’t always like this…” Vess told her, his tone sounding exhausted, “A long time ago, I was once a good and honest man.”

Carmen made a skeptical noise in the back of her throat, but she didn’t interrupt.

“When I first became a doctor, I had **so** many hopes of helping humanity with my research. I grew up in a war-zone and saw things no child should. I was surrounded by death, and I wanted to learn how to stop it. I dreamed of changing the world and saving as many people as I could. I had seen more than enough death and just wanted to see life for a change.”

“V.I.L.E sunk their claws in me when I was just a child,” Vess told her, “I was a bright boy and when I graduated at 14, V.I.L.E were waiting for me.”

Carmen frowned. “I wasn’t aware of this...” she admitted.

“I was young and naive and when I was offered a high-paid position from an ‘import-export company’, I accepted. I thought I would get to see the world working for V.I.L.E, but instead I lost everything.”

“V.I.L.E has a way of doing that to people,” Carmen agreed, crossing her arms, “but you were the one that chose to become a monster.”

Vess slowly shook his head and let out a deep sigh. “You don’t understand. V.I.L.E sank their poisonous propaganda into me the moment they had their hooks in me. I did what I had to in order to survive, and after a while I began to believe it…They blinded me, and I was a fool.”

Carmen stared at Vess and gave him a genuinely thoughtful look. “Drop the scalpel to the floor and kick it away,” she ordered.

Vess did so without hesitation, and Carmen took a step towards him. 

“If you surrender, I’ll make sure you’re treated well. I can’t guarantee you’ll ever see the outside of a hospital ever again, but I can make sure you get the help you need. Please let me help you this time.”

Vess shifted his expression into something open and honest. “Do you really think there’s hope for me?” he asked quietly.

“Of course I do,” Carmen assured him, “I give you my word. I’ll find you the best doctors.”

Vess stared at her and then slowly nodded. “Alright, I surrender,” he told her, holding out his hand to shake.

Carmen hesitated for a moment and then stepped forward to accept it. The moment her hand was in his, he tightened his grip and reached for his belt. There was nothing there.

“Looking for this?” Carmen demanded, holding up a second gun, its chamber open and empty.

Vess stared for a moment, realizing she’d tricked him. He tried to yank his hand back, but Carmen tightened her grip painfully.

“Never again,” Carmen said, her tone darkening, “You will **never** fool me again.”

Vess stood there in stunned silence, his mind desperately trying to come up with a plan to escape this situation. There was suddenly a massive BOOM and the entire building shook and the lights flickered. Carmen released his hand as she steadied herself, and Vess backed away from her. There was only one door and right now there was no way to it.

“We can do this the easy way or the way I’ll **really** enjoy,” Carmen told him, cracking her knuckles, “Which will it be?”

Vess hesitated, for once completely speechless. Before he could form any sort of response, the doors to the O.R suddenly burst open and a swarm of guards forced their way in. Seeing Carmen and Shadowsan, they immediately leapt into action to defend Vess. Having no choice, Carmen and Shadowsan were forced to defend themselves and they began fighting guard after guard. 

Seeing his opportunity, Vess edged along the wall and silently slunk out of the room while everyone was distracted. Vess took off at a run down the hallway, knowing there was still a chance to save this. If he could get to his lab, he could save his research and start all over at another lab. He had hard drives and physical copies of his research as well as the samples he’d collected from Mime Bomb. It didn’t matter if this lab was destroyed as long as he could escape with his research intact. 

  
  


**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Crackle and Paper Star were near the front doors when The Twins finally appeared out of the smoke. Crackle smiled at them in relief, and he clapped Roosevelt on the back.

“I was starting to get worried,” he told them, “Are you alright?”

“We’re okay,” Theodore confirmed, “We had to keep stopping to fight tons of V.I.L.E guards.”

“Did you place the explosives in the correct place?”

Theodore nodded.

“Excellent!” Crackle said, “The moment we confirm everyone is out of this lab, I’m going to remotely detonate it. This lab will be nothing but a crater left in the ground.”

“Is everyone already outside?” Roosevelt demanded.

Crackle gave a nod to the twins. “The only ones still inside now are Carmen, Shadowsan and a bunch of Void soldiers. Well...anyone important that is…” he said with a scowl, “I’m not opposed to detonating while Vess is still inside.”

Roosevelt snickered.

“Alright, let’s get out of here,” Crackle said turning towards the door.

Suddenly Carmen’s voice came across their coms. “Is anyone still inside? I need backup inside one of the labs. I think every V.I.L.E guard managed to find us.”

“Where are you?” Crackle demanded, “I’m still inside.”

“I think the lab I’m in is in the west wing, but I got a bit turned around when following Vess.”

“Don’t worry about it, we’ll find you,” Crackle assured her, “Hang tight.”

Crackle turned to look at the twins who were already stretching themselves in preparation for another fight.

“Split up and keep in contact,” Crackle ordered, “Paper Star is with me, and you two are to stay together. First ones to find Carmen will let the others know. We don’t know what the situation is yet, and so we’ll need to be extremely careful.”

Theodore nodded in understanding.

“But Graham…” Roosevelt said worriedly, glancing at Paper Star, “What if we can’t get to you in time?”

“We’ll be fine,” Crackle assured him with a smile, “There’s nothing else V.I.L.E can do to me at this point. Please just put your trust in us, we’ll be fine. This entire damned place needs to burn.”

Roosevelt scratched his head uncertainly. “They could kill you,” he pointed out, “That’s something they could do to you.”

Crackle gazed down the hallway for a moment, and then looked up at the taller man. “If anything happens to me, you are to make sure our team gets away safely, is this clear?”

Theodore let out a snort. “We’re not going to leave you behind,” he said firmly. “Family doesn’t abandon each other. If you’re in trouble, you let us know. Me and Roose will come kill whatever it is.”

Crackle gave him a long look and then nodded. “Stay in touch.”

Without another word, Crackle ran off down the left hallway, leaving the twins behind. The twins started down the opposite hallway, covering their noses from the smoke. They were listening for sounds of a fight and walked through the hallways in silence, just wanting this mission to be over. Both of them were covered in bruises and cuts, and their muscles ached from over-exertion. 

Quietly walking along, they heard something in the distance. Pausing to listen, they realized someone was singing. As they focused on it, they instantly recognized the song and they exchanged a look of pure confusion. Drawn to the sound, they began following it, forgetting completely about their mission. The closer they got, the clearer the singing became and they knew the voice. A voice they never thought they’d ever hear again.

“It can’t be…” Theodore whispered, “Roose…” 

“I hear it, “ Roosevelt confirmed.

“That voice…” Theodore gasped.

“Delano…” Roosevelt agreed uncertainly.

The brothers exchanged another look and then without a word, they took off at a run towards the singing.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Vess passed by countless bodies on the floor but he paid them no mind. He just needed to escape and this would all work itself out somehow. Vess reached his lab out of breath and he burst inside, his gaze immediately going to his desk. He stopped dead in his tracks and his eyes widened in horror. Siren was standing on top of his desk pouring a bottle of ethanol on top of all of Vess’ research. Siren had loaded the desk with absolutely every paper in Vess’ lab, and stacked the hard drives in the center of all the paper.

“Siren!” Vess screeched out in alarm.

Siren glanced over at him and lit a match. Vess ran across the lab as fast as he could but he couldn’t get there fast enough. The entire desk went up in flames and Siren continued standing there, his lab coat quickly catching fire. Vess shoved Siren out of his way and Siren’s clothing extinguished when he hit the floor. 

Vess grabbed a lab towel and threw it over the flames, but the fire was too large for him to put out that way. Running to the sink for water, he completely ignored Siren who slowly got back to his feet, still singing to himself. Siren clutched the scalpel tightly in his hand and closed his eyes, spinning around and around, not caring about anything at all.

The lab doors crashed open and the twins burst into the room, their expression completely frantic. Their eyes fell on Siren and they couldn’t believe it. Their baby brother truly was alive. He was a bit older and a lot thinner, but he was alive.

“Delano!” Theodore cried out, running for his little brother. 

Siren spun around with the scalpel in his hand and sliced Theodore across the arm before he could touch him. Theodore let out a yelp of surprise and retracted his arm. 

“Del?” he questioned.

Siren didn’t even look at him and continued spinning and singing his song like he was the only one in the room.

“Del, don’t you know us?” Theodore asked, “It’s Ted and Roose!”

He reached out for Siren once again, who lashed out at him without hesitation.

“Delano,” Roosevelt said gently, “What happened to you? What did they do to you?”

Siren ignored them both and simply sang his song, alone in his own little world. Theodore stared at his broken little brother and felt tears coming to his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Del,” he told him, “I’m sorry we weren’t able to protect you.”

Roosevelt didn’t know what to do and looked between his brothers helplessly. Theodore watched Siren sing to himself and it broke his heart that Siren didn’t recognize them. They had loved and cared for Siren his entire childhood, and they missed their sassy and moody little brother. They yearned for the way he would boss them around, the way he would fall asleep during any movie, the way he would patiently explain things, the way he would depend on them. Theodore slowly shook his head and wiped at his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again.

Theodore then got an idea and wanted to see if there was a way to reach him. Slowly lowering himself to his knees, Theodore stared at Siren and softly began singing along with him. His voice joined in with Siren’s and the reaction was immediate. Siren went quiet and slowly turned to face him. His eyes were still glassy and confused, but Theodore now had his attention. Theodore sang their grandmother’s lullaby to him and tears began coming to Siren’s eyes. The scalpel fell to the floor and Teddy held out his arms wide.

Siren hesitated for only a moment and then he lunged into Theodore’s arms. Theodore hugged him tightly and stood to his feet, lifting Siren up as he did so. Roosevelt threw his arms around him as well, and they simply squeezed him tightly, nothing else in the world mattering. Siren’s expression was incredibly confused and he seemed slightly uncomfortable, but he still didn’t resist the hug.

Vess threw one last pitcher of water on the fire and it finally went out. Absolutely everything was gone, the papers were ash and the hard drives were nothing but melted plastic and twisted metal. Siren had destroyed everything. Vess had nothing left. Everything he cared about had been taken from him.

Vess turned to look at the happy family reunion taking place on the other side of the room. It felt like something snapped inside him and Vess opened his desk drawer and grabbed one of his scalpels. White hot rage consumed him and Vess didn’t even think about it and he charged across the room towards Siren. No one saw him coming and Vess stabbed the scalpel deeply into Theodore’s side.

Theodore let out a bellow of pain and the twins dropped Siren so they could face the threat. Vess slashed out viciously and cut Roosevelt across the hand deep enough to reach bone. The twins roared in fury and they both attacked Vess who knew exactly how to take down a person. If Vess could get the proper hits in, he could sever arteries and tendons, leaving the giants helpless. 

Vess was much faster than the twins and each time they tried to land a hit on him, they got cut again and again. Vess was invigorated by the blood and he slashed and stabbed with everything he had. The twins were quickly covered to slashes and cuts and both were bleeding heavily. They were slowing down and Vess suddenly saw his chance. Theodore stumbled down to one knee and his throat was fully exposed.

Just as Vess went in for the kill, there was an agonizing pain in his back. He missed his mark and stumbled forward, the pain excruciating. Slowly turning around, he saw Siren standing there with a bloody knife in hand. The blade was one Vess had been missing for months and now it was clear who had it. As he stared at Siren in disbelief, Siren stabbed him a second time, this time deeply in the chest. Vess’ mouth opened and closed several times in shock and then he fell backwards onto the floor, his white coat quickly turning red.

Vess gasped several times and then pressed his fingers to the wound in his chest, knowing he had to stem the bleeding before he bled to death.

“NOOO!” came a desperate wail.

Everyone looked up to see Michael standing in the doorway, watching everything in shocked horror. He was staring at Siren, his expression showing the betrayal he felt. His horror quickly turned to rage and he knew he had to save Vess before Siren finished him off. Michael dodged around the twins and ran for Vess, certain he could save him. Grabbing the scalpel from the floor, he drove it as deeply as he could into Siren’s side.

Siren let out a small sound of surprise as the twins roared in absolute fury. Moving faster than anyone was expecting, they each grabbed Michael by a limb and yanked him off his feet. The twins' expressions were merciless and vicious and they began digging their nails into the flesh at Michael’s elbow and knee. Michael let out a screech, but that quickly turned to an outright scream as the twins began pulling on his limbs. Michael’s strangled scream turned bloodcurdling as there was the sound of a pop and then a loud _ squelch _as the twins ripped one of his arms and legs off tossing the limbs aside as if they were garbage.

Michael screamed and screamed and they dropped him to the floor, turning their attention to their brother. Roosevelt scooped Siren into his arms and they lifted his shirt to take a look at the damage. The wound was very deep and bleeding heavily, and Roosevelt quickly pressed a hand to the wound. Without so much as a glance back at the two dying men on the floor, they ran for the door to find help for Siren.

The hallway was filled with flames and smoke and Roosevelt ran as fast as he could to get his brother out of the burning lab.

Michael’s screams fell silent, and he began gasping and choking as his body began going into shock. Vess stared at Michael and knew he could save him. He could staunch the bleeding long enough for Michael to get to a hospital. Vess looked down at his hand that was holding his chest-wound closed. If he helped Michael then he would bleed to death. He could save himself or he could save Michael, but he couldn’t do both.

Vess stared at Michael’s face that was twisted in pain and saw he was quickly paling, and he knew he only had **one** choice. Removing his hand from his wound, Vess crawled over to Michael and began removing his belt. He wrapped it around the severed leg and then fastened it as tight he could. Vess could feel the blood pouring out of his chest, but he ignored it as he began removing his own belt. He repeated the procedure with Michael’s arm and then reached for the desk that was still smoldering. Grabbing his pencil case with a cloth, he saw it was still red hot from the flames. Barely able to keep his eyes open, Vess pressed the metal to Michael’s leg who immediately screamed until his voice was raw. Vess did the same for the arm and then he fell face down on the floor, pressing a hand to his wound to extend what little life he had left.

“Go, Michael,” Vess ordered, “Drag yourself out of here.”

Michael was crying hard and the pain was worse than anything he thought imaginable. He silently shook his head.

“GO!” Vess ordered firmly, “I’m not going to last much longer.”

“I-I’m not leaving you!” Michael hissed out.

“Don’t be so fucking stupid, Michael, get out of here!”

Michael shook his head. “I die where you die, Numa. I love you,” he whispered.

Vess didn’t have the energy to fight any more and he glanced towards the door. Standing in the doorway was Plague Doctor simply watching the entire interaction.

“Save him,” Vess begged, “Save Michael. Please, drag him out of here.”

Plague Doctor cocked his head and slowly entered the room.

“No!” Michael screeched, “Leave me! I want to die! Don't touch me!”

Plague Doctor reached down and began pulling Michael into his arms.

“NO!” Michael bellowed furiously, “No!”

Plague Doctor ignored him and tossed Michael over his shoulder, the smaller boy not weighing much at all. Michael struggled weakly but there was nothing he could do about it. Plague Doctor looked down at Vess, gave him a nod and then turned to leave. 

“No, no, noooo!!” Michael wailed, “Numa! Numaaaa!”

Vess let out a deep sigh and slowly closed his eyes. Blood loss was actually a very easy way to go and he considered himself lucky. He would simply slip into a sleep he’d never wake from. It actually sounded nice. He felt so very very tired, and his limbs were like lead. He would sleep and it would be easy. A sudden sound made Vess open his eyes and he saw the fires from the hallway had spread into the room and it was quickly heading towards him, ethanol still splattered all over the floor. 

“Well, fuck,” Vess stated as his legs began to catch fire.

As Michael kicked and struggled against Plague Doctor, he suddenly heard Vess’ screams echoing up the hallway.

“NUMA!” Michael wailed, “NUMA!”

The screams followed him the entire way out of the complex. Plague Doctor headed for the Void helicopter where his sister was waiting worriedly. Michael had fainted, and Plague Doctor crawled into the helicopter, ignoring the questioning look his sister gave him.

“Dmitry?” she questioned.

Plague Doctor laid Michael down at their feet and then reached up to remove his mask.

[[It’s time for us to go home,]] Plague Doctor stated quietly, [[Take me to Volkov Manor. I need to speak with mother and father.]]

Matryoshka stared at him in shock and she simply nodded.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Carmen stared at the lab as the entire building collapsed in on itself as every explosive detonated. It was finally over. The Volkov lab was destroyed forever. Throwing an arm around Mime Bomb’s shoulders, she smiled around at all of her friends and family. They watched with satisfaction as Bellum was shackled and placed into an A.C.M.E van, and they felt nothing but pure satisfaction.

“Are we ready to go meet up with Chase?” she asked.

“Just about, Carm!” Ivy crowed out, pointing to Siren.

Crackle was carefully stitching up Siren’s stab wound under the twins’ intense scrutiny. Siren was unconscious, but all his vitals seemed fine, and Crackle was sure he’d be fine until they made it to the hospital.

Everyone was exhausted and extremely battered but they were all in good spirits. Almost everyone now had stitches, but they were extremely thankful none of their little family had died.

Once Crackle was done with the stitches, Roosevelt reached for his little brother. He held Siren tightly and glared at everyone around him, feeling intensely protective.

“Thank you for helping Siren,” Carmen told Team Crackle, “Siren is part of our team and we can take care of him from here.”

The twins instantly snarled at her and she was taken aback.

“No one touches him!” Roosevelt warned.

Carmen then remembered exactly who Siren was and a look of realization crossed her face. “Oh my god..” she exclaimed, “I never connected the dots before. I am unbelievably stupid…”

“What?” Neal demanded, “Who is this little guy?”

“He’s our little brother Delano!” Theodore announced proudly, “He’s alive! He was here in this lab!”

Team Crackle were instantly a flurry of excitement and everyone clamoured to see Siren. They’d heard so much about the mysterious Delano, and they were incredibly happy for the twins.

“He’s not part of Team Red anymore,” Roosevelt said firmly, “He belongs with us, so he’s part of our team now.”

“Well, I mean… if that’s what he wants,” Carmen said, “But he’ll always have a place within Team Red if he wants it.”

Neal let out a laugh. “The little guy is on **both** teams it seems.”

Crackle let out a noise of disapproval but he didn’t comment. “We’ll discuss this with him once he wakes,” he promised.

“Alright everyone, let’s get to Moscow before A.C.M.E decides to arrest us like Bellum…” Carmen said, motioning towards the bus.

Everyone piled on and as Zack started the ignition, they all gave one last glance to the burning lab. As they sped away from the lab forever, everyone felt they had the first big win against V.I.L.E.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Chief stood hand on hip as she watched the lab burn in front of her. Karam Quederi stood by her side, her expression completely agonized. There had been hundreds of arrests, and entire buses of prisoners were being taken away. Karam had inspected each and every person arrested, but there was no sign of her brother.

A.C.M.E had recovered more than enough proof that V.I.L.E existed and that they’d been up to monstrous things in the lab. They had dozens of Vess’ former patients, and all were willing to give their testimonies.

Karam stared into the flames and felt tears come to her eyes. The last of her family was burning to ashes. She was once again all alone in the world.

“Oh, Numa, what have you done?” she whispered.

Chief glanced over at her and the stern woman softened her expression a bit. “I’m sorry, agent Quederi but there don’t appear to be any more survivors. Your brother was seen entering his lab and didn’t make it out.”

Karam clenched her hands into fists and looked down at the ground. She’d felt **so** certain that she’d be able to help him. Her brother was really gone and she’d never see him again.

“And what about his partner Michael?” she questioned.

“Also missing and presumed dead,” Chief responded, “No vehicles left this compound other than Carmen Sandiego and her team. At least we apprehended the one in charge of this entire facility. So far she’s been uncooperative, but she’ll talk to us eventually.”

Karam slowly nodded and turned her gaze back to the flames. She doubted she’d ever be able to recover a body, and she wished she could have done something. 

“Chief?” Karam asked a bit hesitantly.

Chief glanced at her again. “Yes, agent Quederi?”

“I’d like to work with the patients from this lab that end up at the A.C.M.E psychiatric hospital.”

Chief furrowed her brow. “This is a concerning request,” she stated, “May I ask why?”

“My brother did so much evil in this world. I need to make up for it in any way I can. I want to help all the people he harmed and hopefully make a difference.”

Chief stared at her for a long moment and then turned her attention back to the burning lab.

“Granted.”

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

The Spider tapped her fingers thoughtfully on the arm of her chair, her long green nails scratching at the wood absentmindedly. She stared up at the ceiling silently, knowing it was time for her to finally make her move.

The Volkov Lab had fallen and Doctor Bellum and Doctor Vesalius were both lost to the enemy. Someone was pulling at the threads she had carefully weaved, and now they had her full attention. She couldn’t allow her plans to be disrupted, not this close to the end. Two decades of hard work had allowed her to create her masterpiece of a plan, and everything was finally ready. 

Letting out a deep sigh, she ran her fingers through her short green hair and then looked back to the folders on her desk. She stared at the four pictures in front of her, and knew it was now time to finally put her plans into motion.

The four Volkov cousins stared back at her from the photographs, and she looked from one to each of the others carefully. She had gone through the trouble of collecting all the Volkov cousins to one place and it hadn’t been easy. Sweden. Ireland. Wales. Argentina. Four children from four different countries, but she had found them all. She had brought them together through V.I.L.E and they were none the wiser.

There was a weak link in the Volkov clan and she was going to fully exploit it. Picking up Michael’s photo, she stared at the cocky smirk on the boy’s face and then tore it in half.

Michael was the key to everything.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**TBC**

**After an entire year of writing, Broken is now complete! :D Normally I never finish anything I start writing, so this is a first for me! I really hope you guys liked the story. The series isn’t finished however, and keep an eye out for arc 3! The focus on Mime Bomb is now going to shift to other characters for the next story arc. There will be a lot of focus on the oc characters from Broken, as well as some new characters. ;)**

**Part 3 of the series will be posted sometime in January. It will be called “The Light”. Make sure to keep an eye out for it if you’re interested.**

** Now I’d like to give a tremendous thank you to all the artists who submitted art for Broken. So many of you sent me your wonderful art and it truly made the story so much better! Big kudos to everyone who sent me their art! I really appreciate all your hard work!**

**These are the artists for the current chapter:**

**Violetfic** ** did the awesome pics:**

**1) Carmen and Crackle wearing guards’ uniforms**

**2) Mime Bomb being rescued by Zack and Ivy**

**3) MJ handing DD over to Mime Bomb**

**4) Neal’s shoulder being broken by one of Bellum’s robots**

**5) Bellum dragging herself out of the rubble**

**6) JeanTonio kiss**

**7) Chase reuniting with his daughter**

**8) Carmen grabbing Vess by the arm**

**9) Plague Doctor meeting MJ**

**10) Double Trouble reuniting with Siren**

**11) Siren stabbing Vess**

**12) Vess burning**

**Coulrosaurus** ** did the awesome pics:**

**1) Mime Bomb and Siren reuniting **

**2) Carmen and Crackle wearing guards’ uniforms (lines and coloured the pic)**

**Your friendly neighbourhood ** **MangoKat** ** did these pics:**

**1) Bellum introducing bastardbot**

**2) Siren spiraling**

**3) Siren being carried out of the burning building by Roose**

**.**

**Credit for the names of Otterman and Moose Boy go to Animedemon01**

**Comments make the author happy! ^_^**

**Please don't forget to let me know what you think!**

** **


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